Surfacing Ch. 13

*Sweet Spider Goddess...*

The room was spotless, the same as it usually was, the scent of water and soap having removed any hint as to what might have happened last eve. The two males sat on the edge of her bed, clearly at a loss what to do with their hands as they both watched her nervously, and with the barest tinge of guilt.

She almost laughed in delight. The connection could not be clearer: their auras were partially fused, and more powerful together than they had been separately. Had she known for what to look before now... Oh, but her son had to know her ward's real name; she would bet her title on it.

It could work. Especially now, it could work, and she did not need the Headmaster's direct help. Phaelous had trumped the queen's compulsions, and the boys had trumped the Priestesses' ultimate control. D'Shea should feel threatened by that—if they were this intelligent and this determined, what else might they do? ...and yet she felt more proud for having the opportunity. Eager to use the unexpected talent in her unexpected freedom. Her mate and her blood had opened this door for her.

D'Shea would have to be careful to keep these two apart around other mages, which shouldn't be hard as long as Auslan stayed here. But...oh, it could work!

She had eight more cycles to convince her son to try, before she was required to give him back, and she decided right then that Tarra couldn't have the Consort any time soon, if at all. The Sanctuary owed the Sisterhood a lot of children; D'Shea would start with a Priestess's son, Rausery's grandson—and she didn't care if the Priestesses would deny the Sisterhood's claim of blood. They had lost their right to the Sisterhood's offspring, and it would never be reinstated if she had anything to say about it.

"You looked refreshed, Auslan." She found herself smiling, excited and uplifted, and it clearly worried him. "Were your dreams quiet ones?"

Auslan opened his mouth to answer because he had to, glanced at Shyntre, and finally said, "...they were pleasant, Elder."

Pleasant.

"And you, my son? Did you rest?"

The young wizard smirked a bit. "Like the dead."

Auslan gave him an odd look, and D'Shea couldn't be sure whether it was a shared joke, or a solitary one. It did seem a bit prophetic for what his parents had just been discussing, though. Where could Shyntre go, what would be left behind for him, if his powerful, treasonous parents were discovered too soon?

Well. If Phaelous's divination proved correct, then that spider had at most only seven more months to live by its enchantment, and it could come far sooner than that. Not a lot of time to worry about where Shyntre would be when she might have Illithids on her hands. Phaelous could be wrong, but what else did she have to work with right now?

The sorceress could seek more on her own, starting with these two before her. She wanted to begin negotiations for their cooperation, to expand on the idea she had planted last eve in their heads...but it felt too soon. Her son had his guard up so strong it was spilling over onto Auslan.

"I'm here to take you to get some food before reporting to Elder Rausery for the cycle," she said.

He relaxed. Just a bit. "And where will I sleep this eve, Elder?"

"That is open to discussion."

"Between you and Elder Rausery?" he asked with skepticism.

D'Shea smiled. "Yes. But we'll take advice into consideration."

Auslan would clearly like to have him return but he said nothing, and D'Shea genuinely didn't know how duties would turn out in several marks, anyway. Sometimes they could get a little chaotic. She could plan for one thing and then have to change it, so she would rather wait for more detail to come to her, as it always did.

The boys shared a last, coded look as Shyntre prepared to leave, and D'Shea did them both a favor by allowing no lingering near the door. The two were out and Auslan was still within, safe and protected, as soon as she could manage it.

D'Shea did not press Shyntre to speak as they moved back to the mess hall to get some warm food. He glanced warily at some of the other Sisters present, but they ignored him in favor of giving D'Shea her ranking gesture of acknowledgment. For their own good, they did not blatantly stare at their Elder's only son, even if some may have already known him before and been tempted to remind him. Any whispering or signing would have happened only after they had left again with their trays.

She received confirmation from Qivni that Rausery had left the strategy room to oversee some combat and stealth practices, so she decided to use the private strategy room to eat before delivering her son.

Mostly private. They had gotten most of the way through a silent meal when the Prime let herself in. D'Shea had a split-moment of warning as the ward was lowered, and meditated on a few words to control her heart and body heat to perfection. It was an old habit. She stood up to bow to the Prime, gesturing for Shyntre to do the same.

His physiological reaction was perfectly normal and a marvelous distraction from herself. He was terrified, but he bowed and kept his eyes down after he'd straightened back up.

"Varessa." The only golden-haired Red Sister approached her with a placid face, perhaps even apathetic. She noted Shyntre with a glance but then ignored him.

"Yes, my Prime."

"The Valsharess asks how went Her Consort's first duties?"

Shyntre's heart pounded harder, and it was almost distracting to her. His thumb worried a little at the silver ring on his finger.

"Satisfactory, from what Elder Rausery said," she answered as she ever had to the Prime.

"And his behavior within the Cloister?"

"Exemplary."

"Has he been asked to serve any of the Sisters?"

"No, my Prime. He is untouched by the Sisters, as promised."

"When will he be taken to the Tower, and who will be his escort?"

"That has been to be determined," D'Shea answered coolly. "And Elder Rausery will likely make that selection."

The Prime nodded once. "The Valsharess has instructed that Shyntre will not interact with his former Headmaster while he is there."

D'Shea offered an interested, curious, but obedient look. "As She wishes, my Prime. That is a change of procedure, isn't it?"

"Shyntre is no longer of that Tower," the Prime stated flatly. "His loyalties will not be confused with past bonds."

"I understand, Prime." She bowed, let a beat pass without sound. "Are there any other orders from the queen?"

"Not at this time." The Prime's cold-fire eyes narrowed just a bit in her fine-lined face. "Although I would know why you left the Cloister for all of last eve, Varessa, and where you went."

The Elder nodded. "My quarters are safest for the two males, my Prime, but it was crowded. I went to visit Phaelous in his quarters, and decided to rest there."

D'Shea knew her superior well enough by now to be able to see it in her face; the Prime had already known that and was testing her subordinate. It had been quite a while since she'd so obviously done that. At hearing the proper answer—indeed, the honest confession— from her subordinate's lips eased her suspicions a bit.

It shouldn't have; that was why the Prime was not as good as she was gaining information.

"Old feelings resurfacing, Elder?" the Prime asked with a rigid tilt to her head, her gloved hands settled on her belt.

D'Shea nodded once. "Yes, my Prime. Old memories, suppressed by Wilsira. Tarra needs them to help us correct the imbalance. I believe they will serve the queen well."

The Prime relaxed a bit more. "Very well, then. Continue to visit the old mage if it helps. You'll report to me anything you learn from him, or that you tell Tarra."

The Elder had already dissected the orders and deeper within her, she found it interesting that, unlike before, she felt nothing. No urge or strain to find a loophole, when the Prime ordered her to report anything she learned from Phaelous. Not until it was gone did D'Shea realize it had ever been there. She, of course, would not report everything she learned from him, unless she simply wanted to be placed into Auranka's tender care this very moment.

As for telling Tarra, report anything told her... but not Phaelous. Such an obvious oversight, as the male was the one most likely to hear it first. But then, how long had it even been since the Prime knew any male with any passion whatsoever? Perhaps the withered warrior had stopped talking to males entirely, long ago, and it did not occur to her that D'Shea might actually tell Phaelous far more than she would tell her liaison-ally. Just last eve, that would have been true, but now a lot had changed.

"As you wish, my Prime."

D'Shea signaled her son to silence even after the Prime had left, and she finished her food even if Shyntre seemed to have lost his appetite and merely pushed it around with his utensil. They waited for Rausery to finish up.

When the other Elder finally did arrive, it was no small relief to them both. D'Shea had other things to do, and Shyntre was more than willing to go with his sponsor.

"When will he go to the Tower, Rausery?" D'Shea asked.

Rausery shrugged. "Later. Lots of notes yet to transcribe, it could take two or three cycles with interruptions. Might as well do it at once, hm?"

She nodded in agreement, liking that plan. "And his escort?"

"Me." Rausery watched her for any sign of dissent. There was none.

D'Shea said, "The Prime relayed an order from the Valsharess that he is not to interact with Phaelous at all in his time there."

The other Elder—not nearly as unbending as the Prime could be—narrowed her eyes as she turned that over. "Acknowledged. Anything else?"

D'Shea smiled. "That is all. I would check in with his progress toward the end of the cycle."

Rausery nodded, still watching her thoughtfully but keeping her council in a room the Prime had only recently left. "Drop on by."

With that, D'Shea passed her son to her peer's care, and left to get some more warm food to bring to Auslan.

******

"Before we get started," Rausery began, touching her privacy runes as Shyntre prepared his writing and preservation supplies and the Elder tugged out her well-used, ratty leather manuscript, "a few questions about last eve."

"Of course, Elder."

"Right. And we can find out later how much D'Shea expected you to say to me."

The wizard gave her a skeptical look but didn't outright question her certainty.

"Did you suggest anything to your mother about the interrogation training I mentioned?"

Shyntre blinked, but shook his head. "No, Elder."

"Nothing explicit. She still may have read you."

The wizard looked a bit uncertain all of a sudden; clearly he hadn't expected that. "We never talked about what was happening with the Nobles at the Palace, or my training."

"Okay." Rausery put up her belt and cloak. "What did you talk about?"

The Elder was surprised to see that Shyntre was hesitant to tell her for a moment, and she felt an aggressive heat build suddenly. Doubt? Was his loyalty actually shifting away from her?

Then she forced it down; that wasn't her lean at all. No; knowing him, it was more likely that something he cared about was under threat, as it often was in his life, as he had very little that he dared to care about. It was obvious to her who that had to be.

She did understand him better than D'Shea, after all.

"D'Shea going to do something unpleasant to Auslan if you tell me?" she asked plainly.

"Ah...no," he admitted. "I don't believe she will hurt him for that reason. He's valuable to her."

Good to know.

"Then what is it?"

Shyntre swallowed. "The...Prime. She visited us in the strategy room."

"Ah." Rausery took her seat across from her own desk, looking at the young male's hands tremble from too much adrenalin and no outlet as he lit a heatless candle. "You worry how much I will tell her?"

Shyntre nodded.

The Elder started to smile. "So D'Shea is up to something."

As if that wasn't a given. But now there was something concerning her son and the Consort that Varessa wasn't letting the Prime in on yet.

The Elder also recalled how D'Shea had even given her a big, deliberate hint in their conversation just a few marks ago. She wasn't talking to the Priestess Tarra about it, either.

About damned time.

"Both of us have some leeway to determine what other information must be collected before we make a report, Shyntre," she said, which wasn't always true, but would uphold his understanding well enough. "I could wait quite a while on saying anything if I agreed that D'Shea was managing it right for the Sisterhood. I don't have to get involved if I don't see a threat. D'Shea's the contact with the Sanctuary, after all."

Shyntre absorbed this but still sat watching her with those gold-flinted mage's eyes. After a moment where they didn't move or speak, Rausery leaned forward and put her weight on one arm on her desk.

"Talk to me, boy. Tell me what you discussed at dinner. That is the order."

The mage took several breaths, perhaps sorting his thoughts as his eyes swept over the parchment. She could hear his heart; he really was scared.

"I'm...I—" The wizard had an unusual reaction; a hitch in the gut and the throat that usually preceded a closely-guarded secret. "I am name-bonded to that Consort, Elder."

She quirked a brow slightly. "What does that mean?"

"It means our magic is connected. If he should die...I don't know what will happen to me, or my magic. You...saw what happened to Wilsira when her Draegloth died. It's kind of like that. We bolster each other just being alive."

Rausery's eyebrows went pretty high on her forehead. Not at all what she was expecting to hear.

"And your mother knows this," she said flatly.

"She does now," he admitted. "She did not say it, but I could read her face. She was glad to confirm it."

"That was the reason for the dinner last night."

Shyntre nodded, looking at her as if he expected her to change her attitude suddenly and start hitting him closed-fisted, or something. Rausery didn't see the point, or the affront. Males could be quite like females at times, she already knew that better than any sheltered, haughty Noble. All anyone had to do was spend some time with almost nothing to one's name on the City streets.

"Alright," she said. "What else? Just that?"

The wizard slowly shook his head. "No, Elder. She wants...um...what she really wants is Sirana's progress on the Surface. But I don't know what good it would do."

The Elder grunted. "Sure wouldn't do any good I can see, and she isn't gonna get that anyway. Only a report after the fact, if the novice returns."

"Well..." Shyntre backpedalled a little. "Maybe not so much progress as...contact."

This caught the Elder's interest. How often had she wished for exactly that when she had been on the Surface, or lately as she considered the three virgins up top and their miniscule chances for impossible tasks? Contact, support, something other than completely marooned in a strange, distant place.

"Auslan's value to her is...possible contact with the Surface," Rausery repeated slowly, unsure she'd understood as she said it aloud. "With Sirana?"

The young wizard seemed he might pass out from hyperventilation. "Th-the Prime and the Valsharess can't know yet..."

Rausery chuckled and tilted her head forward. "Breathe slow, Shyntre. And no Drider shit, that would get D'Shea gutted faster than a gnome by a Hook Horror."

Shyntre blinked and stared at her. He did not speak for several moments though he did slow his breathing enough to suit her.

"What?"

"I agree with you, Shyntre. This definitely needs more information before we can act. It's too soon to know, isn't it?"

She grinned. She heard him swallow, and his heart slowed just a little bit. She gave him time to get a grip on himself.

"So. You would pump up the beauty's power, and he would make the contact? How?"

Shyntre shook his head. "We never got that far. I don't know."

"You confessed his connection to you—what's the Consort's link to my Red Sister?"

"Magically speaking...that's complicated, Elder."

"So simplify it for me, mage."

The wizard rubbed his face. "Mm. A baby with divine magic like his. I think."

The Elder's expression hardened somewhat as she absorbed what that had to mean. "Sirana was pregnant by the Consort when we left?"

Shyntre nodded.

"How the fuck did that happen?"

"When he healed her, after Kerse almost killed her, Elder."

Rausery scowled harder. "He had to fuck her to heal her?"

Shyntre was fiddling with his writing instrument. "Actually, yes. He had to cleanse her of Abyssal taint, first, or no healing would work. His particular magic is fertility magic, sex is how he focuses it."

"His cock's a purifier?"

The wizard actually flushed. "In...specific circumstances."

The Elder remembered Jael's report to her about Sirana's condition after Kerse had raped her; there had been blood and lacerations everywhere, especially where it would have counted for sex with a magic male. Interesting to think the Consort hadn't gotten all squeamish and could still perform under pressure like that. Must have hurt like blazing fire for Sirana at first. Rausery could admit she was a bit surprised that Auslan had the guts. Maybe he wasn't as useless as she'd assumed.

And Sirana had said not a thing about it that whole time training on the Surface. Had D'Shea known? If she had, then the novice was definitely still loyal to her Elder.

Rausery felt herself sigh in irritation, then she chuckled, low and brief. "Damned cunt. She hid it well." She chewed the inside of her cheek a moment, thinking over her last conversation with D'Shea. "Auslan's been 'unstable' lately. What does that mean exactly?"

"It means he's been having a lot of troubling dreams, Elder. Some of them of the Surface, and some of them about Sirana."

"Ah. Got to hand it to your mother...I can never keep up with her on magic things. So, you know any details of those dreams?"

He glanced at the Valsharess's silver ring. "Just one."

Rausery had caught the glance. "Okay. Talk."

Shyntre explained briefly about the Valsharess's words as he had been made to wear the ring, then compared it to what Auslan had told him about the large male on the Surface holding Sirana's wrist and—

"Wait. Hold it right there," Rausery said gruffly. "Say that again."

Shyntre blinked but obeyed. It wasn't the first time she asked him to repeat a detail when they spoke like this. "Instead of this silver one, it was a gold ring with a firebird symbol on it."

The Elder was staring at him, and he looked as though he had something tingling go up his spine as he suppressed a shiver. She said nothing.

"What?"

"That didn't really happen, did it?" Rausery finally asked.

"I don't know. Auslan seemed certain it was symbolism."

"Fuck me with a Drider leg," she murmured, looking to the side as imagery that had been very familiar to her for centuries replayed in her head.

"What is it, Elder? Do y—"

"Shut up."

She shook her head as she felt that familiar pain in her head, and her throat, touching gloved fingers to her forehead. Shyntre champed his mouth shut and expressed no weakness at her brusqueness.

"One question, Shyntre. Your thoughts on maybe going along with D'Shea on this? Maybe confirming if Sirana's still alive and who she's met?"

He had some serious doubts, but soon enough he nodded. "She might be able to do it, but only with Auslan and me helping. And...if the Valsharess learns—"

"Yeah. Trust me, unnecessary drama." Rausery smirked. "So, would you, then?

"If...you order me, Elder. I will."

"Consider the order on stand-by, but that's good to know. Enough talk for now. Start scribbling."