Surfacing Ch. 13

"Why?" she demanded, softly. "What were you about to say, Phaelous?"

The mage didn't look at her, but reached through the warded bars to touch the surrogate's cheek. She didn't blink. "You remember coupling with me often, don't you?"

D'Shea had certainly started to remember more of it. And recalling last eve, she felt warmth in her face and her gut, even in this close, dank, cursed place. "I do. You are the only male I've met who has that 'wild magic' surge." She smirked a bit. "I think it spoiled me; I preferred waiting for a free moment to come here, more often than not."

Phaelous nodded. "And the Prime was generous. But I could not do those surges until much later, Varessa, only after the queen stopped...desiring me for some time, and I studied more. Shyntre was my fourth try. I matched the surge to your aura about perfectly. The first three were...less than they were required to be. Or so I was told."

D'Shea only heard a number echo hollowly in her mind: *Three?*

"By the time we got to that point," the Headmaster explained, "the Valsharess wouldn't waste the time or take the risk waiting on you, and I was to 'break' the new catch, where it would just be reabsorbed into your body, before you knew for certain that you were pregnant. I was to mask any suspicion in your mind, and I was to try again."

The Elder Sister stood over him, stock still; she felt a deep, hard cold enter her chest, part of it her breaking pride at hearing how much of a pawn she truly had been as those suspicions seemed to come back as he spoke.

All her ways of distracting herself, of being distracted, that she thought had been the way to achievement, and the will to where she wanted to go...

Ha. Only where the Valsharess wanted her to go. And in the end, it was to give Her a new Headmaster.

She dared not add to that any decided thought that Shyntre was somehow her fourth child. He was her firstborn, he always would be. She had one viable child who survived to be birthed. The greater atrocity was what had been done to her body, her will, to get him.

She felt nauseous, deplorably weak in the knees, but she stayed stubbornly standing, her face set like the stone around her, her arms crossed above her belt. She still wore her reds. That, at least, had always been hers.

"My penance," Phaelous reminded her, "for my part, Varessa, is the return of your full will. As I remember you being when you were Sirana's age. I've watched you for a long time."

Varessa's middle still trembled; she didn't have full control of herself yet. She had to ask something else, find out more, but not... talk about *this.*

"Tell me about the Consorts born here."

The mage nodded and did not make her wait. "From what Tarra and I have decoded in Wilsira's notes, the Consorts were originally a ploy to speed up natural change, and try to inject magical strength back into the weakening Nobles at the same time. If it worked, it would be expanded to the commoners. It seemed to be working, before the Purge."

D'Shea shook her head, looking around at everything except for the mute, dumb, pregnant Drow in her cell. "How was it supposed to work if the inspiration came from the Abyss? From Kerse's sire? I can't imagine the Valsharess getting that desperate."

"Perhaps She was, or perhaps Lolth suggested it," he murmured. "In any case, the original breakthrough was Wilsira discovering how to extract 'cleansed' magical essence through a series of runes. As a Priestess greatly skilled in calling on Abyssal power...she was siphoning it, purifying it, and bestowing it upon the Consorts soon after their conception. With their heightened fertility, most of that added, neutral power was hereditary and passed on to become whatever natural talent was already in the newborn Drow. As I said, it seemed to be working for our race, replenishing what we are mysteriously losing."

The sorceress narrowed her eyes in thought, shoving the angry thoughts to the side as she tried to see where her and her son had fit into Wilsira's plans, which seemed to have been somehow different—conflicting—with what the Valsharess had wanted. It was during her time in the Sanctuary that the taint first seeped into the Consorts...how? Had she done it, somehow? Even though Phaelous had said she was responsible for the protection runes in this place?

"Tell me..." she said slowly, deliberately, "exactly how the Consorts are made."

"Tarra hasn't told you yet?"

"Not in terms of actual records. As you have seen with your own eyes."

"Always left in the haze of religion, wasn't it?" he smiled wryly, taking a moment to recharge the water-draw bottle in the cell for the surrogate. "Don't you want to know who this is?"

D'Shea shook her head in the negative, and Phaelous ignored that.

"She is Bathila, a commoner that was abducted from the City. From Wilsira's notes, she is supposedly a removed cousin to Elder Rausery, but that relation was why she was targeted."

Of all the names D'Shea had not expected to come up in this conversation, that was one of them.

"Elder Rausery?" she repeated, not even certain what she was asking for the moment.

"Indeed. Impressive physical strength, rarely-wavering constitution, with clean healing and high, practical intelligence. Plucked off the streets by the Prime herself after she was discovered around a tender seventy years old to be building an underground trade system of her own, barely touched by the Valsharess's Hand."

D'Shea might have been more irritated at his telling her things she already knew of the Elder's strengths and origins...except that the sorceress hadn't known about the supposedly burgeoning black market. That was just before she was born.

As she mulled that over, the mage glanced up at her. "You remember any talk of Rausery having a daughter of her own within the Sisterhood, when she was young?"

D'Shea shifted slightly. "Well...it was before my time."

"But not long before." Phaelous stood up from the cell and finally faced her. "At one time, the Sisterhood could keep their daughters, train them, and even have some say in what happened with their sons. I was alive then; I remember more blood bonds between the Sisters, it was clear in their appearance.

"Wilsira changed it. She was convinced it was a power imbalance, since the Priestesses could not breed beyond their Draegloth. Many others in power began to agree, and the Prime had become more complacent than the firebrand she had been when she was more your current age."

D'Shea lifted a brow at that, but Phaelous continued on.

"Rausery's newborn, a common-blood daughter, was among the first given to the Priestesses, as Shyntre would be many years later, though Rausery was not expected to spend her time and birth in the Sanctuary. That was another restriction placed on the Sisterhood later."

D'Shea stared deeply at his eyes, almost afraid to read what was there. "She's long dead now. Rausery's daughter."

He nodded. "Tahna is dead. Elder Rausery knew that. What she did not know is that her then one-hundred-fifty-year-old daughter bore six Consorts in a mere fifteen years, before finally giving up on her life in the Sanctuary. An extraordinary constitution and strength of will, given the physical strain and isolation enforced on her."

Phaelous's creeping, morbid humor emphasized his point, and D'Shea finally did shudder, her eyes drifting to the side. She trembled inside, seeing in her mind's eye a strong daughter who should have been in the Sisterhood... being down here instead, in one of these cells. Her eyes landed on Bathila, who was not even aware that they were there.

Six pregnancies, six births? In fifteen years. It should have taken no less than fifty, and that was pushing one's health. No natural mother had ever endured that, it wasn't how the Elves repopulated.

If not for Phaelous's intelligence and magical focus, that could have been D'Shea as well. Three times before Shyntre was conceived and allowed to grow...?

*No. Don't think about it.*

Phaelous continued quietly. "Varessa. ...you should know this as well. The youngest of Tahna's brood is the only survivor of the Consorts now, and he's living in your quarters. Awaiting further experimentation by Tarra and yourself."

"Auslan," she whispered aloud. "...Rausery's grandson?"

Phaelous shrugged slightly. "He's still mostly of Juliran's make. She was his Priestess, the one who graced him with much of his appearance and magical inheritance. As far as the Priestesses are concerned, Juliran was his mother."

D'Shea frowned, and the wizard nodded his head in agreement.

"I know, my Elder. Juliran didn't give birth to him or add greatly to his health and body; she was incapable of bringing him into existence. Tahna the Commoner grew him and gave him life. That's the curious thing about the Consorts...they are the products of two mothers. Three parents, if you count the seed of the sire, though from what I could tell, Wilsira stopped using seed milked from outside the Sanctuary once they got a healthy first brood of Consorts. Then they were self-sustaining."

At D'Shea's look of disgust, the wizard chuckled and added, "From the charts, Wilsira was required to keep track of which Consort seed was going with which egg of a Priestess. She only crossed the same blood line a few times, to no immediate negative consequences, but the Valsharess soon forbid it to continue. The Priestesses had to 'breed' across from each other, and bring in new Priestesses regularly to offer more pairings. Wilsira was not allowed breed with herself, though by now I suspect most knew that she wanted to."

D'Shea's eyes stung again. Lolth damn the goddess's own Priestesses!

And she would *not* cry in front of Phaelous again. Yet how much agony and torture did she want to pay back upon the Sanctuary, and the Palace? So much that her chest had begun burning, as it had before she'd wept, and she wanted to create the largest, most volatile spell and set it off dead-center in the middle of the Sanctuary.

With what, exactly, was Tarra planning to replace this...this "method," anyway? D'Shea herself wouldn't be able to describe it if asked; not fully.

The ambitious, younger Priestess was keeping this pregnant Drow down here, and she had claimed to need Auslan's name and his cooperation to discover the next step. She did not care if Shyntre was the one bearing that price. Of course not. The Sisterhood's strength and their wombs had always been there to be used, to prop up the Priestesses where they were weakest.

"What do you remember from being here, Varessa?" Phaelous asked, again.

"If you know this," she asked, for a second time, "will you not be disposed of that much more quickly?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps it will make no difference."

"I still do not remember what happened to me here, old mage," she said flatly. "Take me back to your Tower and show me what I need to know to hide what you've done for a little longer."

He nodded obediently. "As you wish, Elder."

She continued to speak, ignoring his soft sigh. "I must return to our son soon. Rausery will bring him to the Tower at least once to finish the newest Surface archive he is working on for her."

Phaelous looked rather thoughtful at this; this information appeared to be new to him. "Very well. Thank you for the warning, Varessa."

*****

"Elder D'Shea is back, Elder."

"About damned time. She retreat into her quarters yet?"

"Not yet, Elder. I passed along a message that you'd meet her in the strategy room."

"Good girl, Lead. I'll wait here, then. Here, take this to Agalia."

The Elder kept a perfectly straight face in front of Qivni's barely suppressed irritation at being called "good girl," and she passed the sensor tabs for two down teams to check the perimeter at random points—just the usual, really.

A chuckle could have been seen in Rausery's shaking shoulders once she was alone, though.

D'Shea didn't make her wait, and Rausery got the feeling that her peer had probably been coming here, anyway. Only whether it was before or after checking on her boys was where Qivni had made the difference.

There was no ward until after D'Shea entered; then no one but the Prime could disturb them.

"You look worked over, D'Shea. No sleep last eve?"

"Not enough."

D'Shea must have been tired, either physically or mentally, because she sat down in one of the chairs around the circular table without looking at Rausery up and down first.

Something was different.

Rausery considered the sorceress with the obvious Noble features, trying to decide what it was that D'Shea was doing—or not doing—that was setting off her instincts.

"Shyntre still available this cycle?"

"Of course," D'Shea said easily, almost cordially, as her eyes drifted over the map on the table. "I'll see him fed first and bring him to you, if you like."

Rausery nearly found herself tapping her stone stylus. "How did dinner go?"

Her peer smiled—a bit wryly, perhaps, but she was pleased all the same. "Well as can be expected." Then her copper eyes came up from the map to meet hers. "What's the latest update from Jaunda?"

She shook her head. "Nothing since the last one. Team's due back soon, though. This is the farthest they've been out. We'll see if they got lucky this time."

"I want to hear the next report directly."

Rausery shrugged neutrally. "Always your right. You weren't interested before."

"I was preoccupied. I need to catch up."

The other Elder snickered and shook her head in disbelief. "The politician needs to catch up to the ground-pounders?"

D'Shea didn't respond to that but she didn't look away or get all "aloof sorceress" on her. "Be sure to inform me when she comes back. I shall join you."

"She's still your Lead, D'Shea. I'll tell her to report to you first."

Her peer shook her head. "I'd rather you be present. You have been much farther outside the City than I have been. I would have your insight."

Rausery quirked a white brow. Well, this would be interesting. Leads rarely reported to two Elders at once; it was intelligence control. Or competitive jealousy.

And why now?

"Fine. I'd ask what's on your mind, Varessa, but I know it is wasted breath."

The sorceress smiled a bit without showing her teeth, and Rausery frowned back.

"Still playing games, eh?"

Oddly, D'Shea stopped smiling at that. She looked down at her right hand, flexed it inside its leather glove. "Are you?"

Rausery almost snorted. "I move the pieces around to best serve the queen, same as you. I guess it's a game."

"That it is."

Far too much was going on inside that too-intelligent head of hers; Rausery could see it in her eyes. She sighed and leaned back, tilting her head and narrowing her gaze at the other Elder. "Alright, I'm going to ask."

"So ask."

An answering smirk. "First invite? I'll mark the day."

D'Shea reacted slightly to the odd vernacular but otherwise just waited.

"Why did you bring Shyntre here, D'Shea? He's under a lot of pressure, and you risk more than just me and Qivni figuring out that he knows the Consort from before now."

The sorceress frowned slightly, but otherwise did a fine job of acting aplomb. "Have you told the Prime?"

"Nope. Might cause pointless drama."

D'Shea seemed to relax just that tiny bit. "Only you could get away with a call like that." She paused, again glancing at the map. "Why did I bring him? You and the Tower archives require his services, for one."

"The reason given the queen. Yeah, I know. What else?"

"He would benefit from spending time with us if he is to make a successful transition to Palace Consort."

"Oh? In what way?" Rausery asked curiously.

"Whatever advice or training you see the need to give him," D'Shea opened her hand upward briefly, looking directly at her. "Given what is expected of him right now."

Uncanny. How did the sorceress do it? Or had Shyntre told her?

Rausery shrugged. "Done. And the Consort?"

"Auslan."

"What about him? I know you're keeping him safe for Lelinahdara for now, but when are you going to do something with him? And what does Shyntre have to do with it now?"

D'Shea focused on her face a little too long for there not to be something she wasn't saying. "Auslan is having fits related to his attack in solitary. I wish to see if Shyntre can provide a service to me in stabilizing him with some male companionship, as he had in the Sanctuary. Something none of us can provide. You know the mysteries of the male mind."

Rausery simply stared at the sorceress as if she'd grown a second head.

"Alright," the elder said finally, slowly, turning that over in her head. "So you're not neglecting Thena and her team, and you're not neglecting the beauty, either. Can't say that I can complain. Always said you needed to get your hands in it more often, D'Shea."

Then it finally struck her to ask: "And 'Auslan' needs to be stable...for what reason?"

D'Shea smiled at her, probably because she was far ahead of her. "I think he's something new for the queen, and the Sisterhood."

Rausery narrowed deep crimson eyes. "And the Priestesses?"

D'Shea shrugged lightly. "What about them?"

She blinked. That was a switch. "Huh."

Her peer smiled wider. "He's something you might like yourself, if you really *are* playing games like the rest of us, Rausery."

At that, she stood up abruptly, having chosen her moment to leave, nice and dramatic.

Rausery rolled her eyes briefly and scribbled something with her stylus. "Games are ways to waste the time away," she called at the sorceress's back. "And don't forget you said you'd bring Shyntre."

D'Shea nodded without looking back. "He'll be with you soon, Elder."

******

Varessa didn't return to her room immediately, but stopped to follow-up on the tasks she'd given Corpora Thena and her three charges the previous cycle, finding them done adequately, if not perfectly. None of them spoke or moved until she nodded and considered these finished. Then she gave her next series of tasks which would not only keep them busy for half the cycle, but would improve the Cloister's functions.

"The jade?" D'Shea asked Panagan before allowing them to break formation.

The archer reached into a pouch and withdrew a rather well-made arrowhead probably crafted over the last few weeks, which would be perfect for a hand crossbow. D'Shea could sense the warmth of a weak enchantment between her fingers, and she focused on the spellcraft for a few moments.

"Muscular seizure," she said. "Nice choice. How long since you placed it?"

Panagan seemed hesitant to show any pride in front of her Sisters, though she should. She had earned it.

"Only a few cycles, Elder."

"It's weakening too soon for the store-spells, then. But it would work in the field under pressure, you've got that much down." She handed the piece of jade back. "Either release this one and begin again, or let it drain out and I will demonstrate when I have time what you must correct for the effect to hold almost indefinitely until you use it."

She could tell from the first look; Panagan would wait for her to be shown again and do nothing on the jade until then. Gaelan would have practiced, even if D'Shea had to step in later. A bit of a disappointing difference between them. But then, there had been a reason D'Shea had thought the Red Sister better suited to Rausery's leadership at the start.

Phaelous's words about their magic getting weaker without more and various fertility rituals haunted her thoughts as she gave several more orders on her way back to her quarters.

Hope for the future, however, was almost tangible as she stepped inside to close and ward the door behind her; it felt so strong that it almost suffocated her. She had to place her hand on the door to steady herself and concentrate on the familiar routine of giving herself quiet and privacy before she could return her attention to the two auras in the room.