Ch. 6, pt. 1: Politics

SOLAUFEIN

 'Wielder.' Enserric's metallic voice roused Solaufein from his reverie of falling into the Anauroch - a common enough subject for his resting mind ever since his death there - which fled from his awareness like sand hissing through the sandstone ruin's cracks, earning a long and tired moan out of the dark elf. At least he had woken before he remembered the rats trying to eat his eyes. Death by slow crushing was the farthest from ideal way to go. 'We've reached your little doomed town.'

 Slowly, one wine-red eye opened after the other. The warrior patted his cushion - Binne's backside - and she awoke with a disturbed snort. "Lith My'athar," he explained when she turned to glare at him for disrupting her slumber. Appeased, she nodded, yawned, and stood to offer him a hand. He took it and slowly stretched the discomfort and exhaustion out of his limbs. It had been unceasing fighting for his life since Undermountain, inter-mixed with moments of humor and existential dread at the geas that was slowly chipping away at his sanity each time he thought of his life on the surface. Something behind his brow throbbed each time he so much as remembered the stars, or mountains, or the sea; it was strange thanks to Halaster that he felt closer to his old self than he ever had before. He wondered in amusement if Binne felt the same pain in her backside when remembering her homeland, or if she was simply used to it at this point.

 Cavallas' boat gently pulled into Lith My'athar's harbor with a soundless grind that Solaufein felt through the vibrations in his boots. He stood and came back to his faculties by inches. A distant white-haired figure on the docks at first sent him into an alert, but he recognized Nathyrra's wary stance from afar and felt relieved at the sight of her. "Who gets to tell the Seer we left her golem army with our bard?" Binne wondered aloud.

 "I will," Solaufein volunteered. "You catch up on rest," he offered, knowing she needed it far more than him. Sleep seemed to be inordinately vital to the cambion, and he had carefully noted that she rarely rested well as they traveled. She let out a small, relieved sigh before nodding, and they waited for Cavallas to finish docking.

 "You should talk to Rizolvir," Valen spoke up, drawing Solaufein's attention. He met the General's azure eyes in curiosity. "About new armor," he explained, gesturing to Solaufein's leathers. He plucked at his leathers fondly and considered the tantalizing possibility of hawking their loot and commissioning a new piece reinforced with mithral, but he already had a task in mind for the forge master that took precedence - the commissioning of a new helm and weapon for his a'temra. Their latest island adventure had cemented the necessity of acquiring a longer weapon for Binne.

 As soon as Cavallas docked, Nathyrra approached in her usual cautious manner. "It is good you are all in one piece," she commented blithely, eying their states and then heavily frowned. "But where is Deekin?" He was a little touched at her concern for his friend; truly, Nathyrra was a unique female to be so concerned over the state of one kobold.

 "Back with the golems," Valen explained. "On the Maker's Isle. We managed to get a small army for the Seer - although it was mostly thanks to Binne."

 "Pshaw," the cambion scoffed with a blush. Solaufein was impressed that the General had upgraded to using her name and giving her credit; not two days ago he'd been growling in her presence. "'Twas nothing I did."

 "You credit yourself too little," Solaufein stated. He turned to Nathyrra, drawing the wizardess' attention. "I have much to report to the Seer."

 She nodded. "Cavallas?" she called out, drawing the strange boatman's eye. He turned his shadowed hooded head to regard her. "Shlu'ta dos mrigg udossa gaer?" She asked politely. When Cavallas nodded, a light lit up behind her countenance. "Excellent!" She gushed. "I have never met a construct before. What are they like?"

 "Uncannily intelligent," said Valen. "These are unlike any modrons I've ever encountered. They're completely sentient."

 "And entirely too political," added Binne. "They vote and deliberate, and everything. Honestly, it's a nuisance, lest you're into that sorta thing. Be sure you don't miss Deekin on your way back, he insisted on staying with them, something about recording their history. They've been through quite a bit, in just under five hundred years."

 "Fascinating," Nathyrra breathed in undisguised excitement.

 "A . . . lot has happened in the last few cycles," Solaufein explained when Nathyrra sent him a questioning glance. Binne trounced off the docks toward the Temple with determination, probably looking forward to her much-needed rest, while the General remained behind hovering near Solaufein.

 When he was given a questioning gaze, the General suggested, "we should see the Seer as soon as possible, to give her our reports."

 "Will you remain my bodyguard?" Solaufein asked, amused. "Or have I exhausted your services?"

 "There's still the illithid and beholders to contend with," the General reminded him, "as well as whatever else is lurking in that cavern."

 'Knowing your luck, it will be a hungry dragon,' Enserric soundlessly ruminated. Solaufein sent him a mental image of his last encounter with a dragon - the fat white Tymofarrar too bored and lazy to kill anyone, and it seemed to tickle Enserric as the sword started chuckling aloud.

 "I've never heard a sword laugh like that before," Valen commented, disturbed. "And I never want to again. In any case, I'll guard you as long as the Seer commands me to."

 Nathyrra soon busied herself bothering Cavallas for the details of the excursion, hoping he'd guide more drow boats through the dark river to their destination to bring the constructs back. Valen and Solaufein found themselves trailing after Binne's form toward the spidery temple, for his part Solaufein feeling more exhausted with every step now that rest was nearly in sight. How the tiefling was still standing was a little beyond the elf, but Solaufein figured that had more to do with the mysterious Blood Wars; Solaufein had been thrust back into the adventuring lifestyle only recently, after a few months of nondescript traveling up and down the Sword Coast in myriad attempts to have the strange Reaper's relic examined by professionals. It had been several years since had been to war, and he was not eager to return to it. The tiefling had never left war.

 The black stone foyer was empty when they entered, however. Scoutmaster Cazna was near, and Valen barked out a greeting. She redirected them to the small library where they'd held their first war meeting, where the Seer was apparently waiting for them with tea. Tall built-in bookcases limned with spidery mithral filigree lined the long room's walls, with a few central tables filled since the last meeting with papers and books. Part of Solaufein felt inherent trepidation at setting foot in the temple, as such entry had been forbidden for nearly all of his life - standing in that library of his own volition a scant twenty years ago would have been completely unthinkable. For a moment, he could easily hear Phaere's voice from the past lashing at him for stepping outside of his bounds.

 "Vendui, Malla Seer," Solaufein bowed respectfully in her presence, flustering the matron for a moment. She waited near a pile of literature and looseleaf pages, immersed in studies that confounded his eyes with imperceptible hand-scrawl.

 "No need for such formalities," she instructed, so he stood. Her sky-blue eyes smiled with the upturn of her lips, and something in him warmed at the sight of it. "I'm pleased you're all intact. I sense you have good news for me."

 He considered the nature of the news he had to deliver. Some of it was strange, but most of it was probably 'good.' "We defeated a few preliminary forces, led by the Red Sisters," Valen reported obsequiously as Solaufein debated internally on how to say what he needed to say. "Seems the Valsharess was investigating the isles, same as we."

 "We have recovered a strange and possibly cursed scrying mirror, as well as a small golem army," Solaufein summarized abruptly. He wasn't sure how many details Malla Seer desired, but his brain wasn't cooperating and he had no desire to go into a long-winded explanation. He patted down his person before he realized that the mirror - along with most of his gear - was still with Deekin on the golem isle. "It will have to wait until Deekin returns," he said apologetically. "I forgot that I placed the mirror in his bag of holding . . . Nathyrra is traveling to the isle to oversee the transport of him, and the golems with him."

 "You seem spent," the Seer criticized and placed a gentle, glowing hand on his pauldron. His energy levels lifted with the minor blessing, but it did nothing to help the bone-deep exhaustion.

 "It's been . . . A lot has happened," Valen added delicately. Solaufein gave the unruffled tiefling an envious glance - how the man touted about such energy was really beyond him. Perhaps it had something to do with the type of demon in his blood . . .

 "Rest easy, Solaufein," the Seer offered generously in Ilythiiri. As always, it pleased his ear to hear her speak his mother tongue - he'd never met a female quite like her and knew he probably never would again. She seemed too rare for the world. That fact alone made her worth protecting, and he could understand for a moment Valen's insistence upon following her every word. He wanted to obey the command too, though suspected it was more out of an indoctrinated desire to appease charismatic females. "Your rooms have been prepared in your absence, and we may speak more upon waking. Have no fear while you are in these walls. You are safe, by my word."

 He thought about it for a moment and hesitated but relented and bowed again. "Alulove," he uttered in parting, and left her to the library along with the weapon master who continued the report in his absence.

 Solaufein got turned around for a moment before finding his way back to the room he'd been assigned. Though he suspected that they had prepared a second one for Binne, he nonetheless was pleased to find her sprawled upon his bed in a deep sleep, lightly snoring, her armor tossed willy-nilly in haste. He kicked aside the bloodstained adamantine and slowly tore off his leathers in a pile and curled himself around her warm body contentedly. He'd never known a bed-partner who emanated such warmth, but it seemed common in the younger races. It pleased him, and he had started to find it much easier to slip into deep and peaceful reverie when she was near.

 Deep in v'dri, his mind tended down familiar paths into his past. Once more he found himself outside the battlements of Saradush looking out on a red horizon that spilled bloody light on a sunset battlefield, littered with the bodies of the dead and damned. He felt the familiar weight of his old sword in his hands - a gift, from his love. She was there amongst the carnage, standing amongst the swaths that she had cut with her gleaming silver blade that thrummed with energy in the orange light. She'd lost her long midnight braid in the fight against Yaga-Shura, the fire giant, and stood proudly over his fallen rust-colored corpse despite the grime that coated her and slicked back her short black locks with the giant's dying arterial spray.

 Her silver eyes locked onto Solaufein's own as he approached, shading his eyes from the fading sun with one hand. He had to stop for a moment as the wind whipped about them - massive wing beats from overhead alerted him to the presence of a great red dragon. Solaufein tilted his head back and watched as the great beast emitted a gout of red flame and swooped in lowering circles until he landed beside Aphra, his size such that the fallen warriors he landed on were merely squished beneath his mighty claws. The great red beast towered, colossal, over them all and emitted a roar so loud and deep it could be felt through Solaufein's feet on the battleground. It was a victorious war-cry.

 He turned around as he heard his name called and the light bent around him and froze as he suddenly stood in an endless icy field, the wind battering at his back and chilling him to the bone. He felt as though he stood in winter outside of Hilltop again, lost in the blizzard that had nearly claimed his life. There were no mountains, however, or trees. Only a boundless field of ice. He wandered alone through the icy fields until he saw a flame in the distance and hurried his tired and half-frozen limbs toward it. What seemed a flicker erupted as he closed the distance into a bonfire that warmed him . . . Though a figure near it caught his eye as it bent over in grief, weeping. The horns that curved around its head gave the figure away upon approaching - it was Binne, deep in grief over something. Before he could approach and ask what bothered her, Solaufein was thrust out of the reverie into waking.

 He blinked as his eyes, mind, and body adjusted abruptly to the present moment. It took him an embarrassingly long minute to realize that Binne was looming before him in concern, because for a moment he thought she appeared as someone else - someone similar with shorter horns perhaps, and whiter hair. He reached up to touch her face, feeling the need to assure himself that this was not merely another component of the v'dri. She was warm and true as always, with the same dark hair and russet skin. "Are you alright?" She asked in a voice heavily laced with concern. "You were tossin' and turnin' fierce. I tried to shake you, but you wouldn't wake."

 "I am fine," he assured her, absently tucking her shoulder-length hair behind her ear in his caress. "You?"

 She grinned. "Oh, I slept like a dragon."

 He laughed, because it was an interesting choice of word given the subject of his v'dri, and she often snored like one too.

 They'd awoken in the early hours of the next cycle to a rare peace and quiet and chose to enjoy that for a few moments more without speaking - entangled in half-sleep around each other. He nearly found himself drifting off again until a knock at their door forced him to confront reality. He felt still, but less tired, but still cursed his exhaustion under his breath as he answered the door.

 Deekin was on the other side, who immediately shielded his eyes from Solaufein's nudity with hands thrown over his eyes and a yelp. "Ack! Boss! Big peoples is supposed to wear pants! Deekin not wants to see that!"

 From behind him, Binne roared with laughter. Solaufein merely rolled his eyes and went about searching for trousers amid the fallen clothes around the room as Deekin stumbled in after him, bumping into furniture in his self-imposed blindness. "I am dressed," Solaufein announced, annoyed. "Are you happy?"

 "Happier, yes," Deekin affirmed.

 "I'm not," Binne announced. "Should I be?"

 "We have training today, so at some point, yes," said Solaufein.

 She perked up and immediately began ransacking the floor for clothing. "Training? So it's to be a day of arse-kicking, then?"

 "Amongst other things."

 "Well, I could certainly use it!"

 Solaufein looked down to Deekin who had finally stopped shielding his eyes and was instead rubbing the sleep out of them. "Deekin just came to says that he is backs from golem island with other golems," he explained. "Also, er, Boss tells Deekin not to go to the kitchen but, uh—Deekin be pretty hungry and was, erm, wondering—"

 "I will escort you," he offered, "and thank you for listening. I would hate to see you on a dhaerow platter."

 Deekin gulped. "So, drows really do be eatings kobold? Deekin always assume Boss be makings bad joke abouts that."

 "Unfortunately," he confirmed, "it is considered a delicacy."

 "Why?" Binne wondered, honestly, as she pulled on a tunic. Her tail curled up in confusion. "It's not as if they have much meat on their bones."

 "Many things about my society do not require logic to understand," he struggled to explain. "It is . . . About the preparation of the food. It is done with, what is word—purposefully—it is done with purposeful cruelty."

 Both of his companions frowned at this, but there was naught to be done. He'd long ago given up trying to explain dhaerow ways to outsiders. Without understanding the intricacies of Lloth's religion, there was no understanding of their ways. Lloth was a part of everything that they did, in every aspect of their lives, down to the way food was prepared - as painfully and as fresh as possible when it came to meat - to the balance of hierarchy of the Houses - where only the strongest and cleverest were on top and capable of surviving abbanelith.

 The kitchen was past the library with several attendants milling about; it was a simple enough matter to get someone's attention and have a plate of whatever was on hand prepared for them. Solaufein took security in watching the preparation with careful eyes. The Eilistraeens did not seem to mind or judge him for his caution - it was an ingrained habit, to only eat what he himself had prepared or witnessed, to avoid potential poisoning.

 The General found them toward the end of their shared breakfast with strange news. "There are outsiders at the gates, claiming to know you," Valen Shadowbreath announced without preamble.

 "And a lovely morning to you too, Valen," Binne said around a mouthful of pastry.

 "It is a . . . Delicate matter that may escalate, if you cannot vouch for them," he continued as if she had said nothing.

 Solaufein considered this quickly. "Rivvil?" He questioned.

 "A human, and one of the short ones, I forget what you call them," Valen explained.

 "Kobold? Dwarf? Gnome? Halfling? Goblin?" Deekin supplied, thinking of all the 'short ones' he could. "Please say it not be Grovel agains."

 "I'm not sure," Valen answered uneasily. "Definitely not a kobold or goblin. Doesn't wear shoes, which I found odd."

 "Halfling," Binne and Deekin said at the same time.

 There was only a small number of individuals that could have survived the trip into the Underdark, chasing after him - and only a few that were in Undermountain who would know to send a force in their direction. He suspected Durnan's work, or the work of the Lords of Waterdeep.

 "I imagine some rivvin would cause problems with the local Spider-thumpers," Binne stated.

 "To say the least," agreed Valen.

 "Take us to them, then," Solaufein requested.

 Valen looked the group up and down and seemed aggrieved by something. "In armor, please," he pleaded. "Don't make my job any harder than it has to be."

 Solaufein couldn't help the slight eye-roll that this warranted. Most cities, he knew, had a code of conduct that no assassinations could happen out in the open; though he had not yet had the chance to familiarize himself with Lith My'athar's unspoken rules, so he made a mental note to ask Nathyrra in the future.

 "Aw, I haven't had the chance to clean mine yet," Binne sighed, sounding a little sad.

 "The bloodstains make you seem more intimidating," Solaufein offered to try and cheer her up.

Solaufein's brow furrowed in concentration as he appraised the rivvin - a human female he recognized from the surface with a double-bladed sword strapped to her back, and a mouthy halfling clad in black armor at her side. "You are . . . Sharwyn," he guessed. Some rivvin names twisted on the tongue, such as Deekin's, but hers had sounded distinctly elven to his ears and stuck out in his memory. "And—I forget your name," he admitted to the halfling.

 The halfling puffed up. "Wha—I'm Tomi Undergallows!" He announced, pointing to himself. "Now, how do you go an' forget the people you resurrected in a death-dungeon?"

 "I resurrected many," Solaufein explained with a shrug.

 "'Tis true," Sharwyn conceded in a diplomatic tone, "take no offense, Tomi. We are here to aid you Solaufein and have heard about this Valsharess."

 Binne was staring between the two of them with wide, unbelieving eyes. "You got killed on the first level, but somehow made it all the way down here? How in the Hells did that happen? We had a guide, and a handy teleport!"

 Sharwyn flung a bit of her auburn hair over her shoulder that had fallen forward in a shrug. "It is the same with us. I volunteered to travel when the Blackstaff came to the Yawning Portal and asked for volunteers for a small mission. We thought our fellows Linu and Daelan might have caused more of a stir - an elf and a half-orc - than a human and a halfling. Perhaps we misjudged. The archmage had a message that he wished to transport to you." She turned to Solaufein and pulled a small packet wrapped in brown paper with twine out of a shoulder-bag.

 Solaufein barely glanced down before handing it over to Binne. "Read it," he requested.

 She unwrapped it and pulled out a folded letter, and a small stone that fell out of it as soon as she opened it. On reflex she reached for it and caught it in one hand. As soon as it contacted her she cried out in pain; the stone emitted a bright flash of light before disappearing beneath the skin of her palm. Solaufein took her injured hand and examined it, but it was empty - it was as if it had melted into her hand and left no trace behind.

 Valen's flail was the first thing to respond, almost of its own will flying into his left hand. "What treachery is this?" He demanded angrily.

 Tomi was the first to take a step back, while all Sharwyn did was widen her eyes in surprise. "Oi, no one told me about any melting runes!" The halfling shot out. "I just thought there'd be treasure and distressed damsels! Look, even I admit I've read Volo's chapters on the Underdark an' all those Drizzt novellas, and I'm sure it's not all it's tossed up to be, but you can't blame a halfling for being curious! I'm small and sneaky, not treacherous!"

 "What a ringing self-endorsement, Tomi," the bard sassed. Sharwyn's expression lit up in recognition. "I've seen this before!" She realized. "I know I have. What does the letter say, if I may ask?"

 Binne did not seem to be hurt but confused. She grunted at Valen, who lowered his flail. Slowly she unfolded the letter and perused it. "It's addressed to me," She noted in surprise. ". . . A Word? That's what the rune is called - erm, oh. It was supposed to do that. Warning would have been nice, Arunsun, ya arsehole! So he sent you two down here to help with the war effort?" She asked, after she had glanced at it. "He could've sent an army," she criticized. "That might've been more helpful!"

 Sharwyn shrugged and adjusted her pack on her shoulder. "I imagine the Blackstaff is occupied with the Lords of Waterdeep and their army in defending the city. It is an ongoing battle that he believes can be circumvented if a key fight is won. There was some divination involved, I'm sure, but the bottom line for him seems to be that the drow queen's assault on this particular city must be averted. We've come as volunteers to bolster the defense however we can and deliver the message. Tomi is a skilled shadowdancer, and my songs may inspire or dishearten entire crowds."

 Binne's eyes narrowed. "Can you stop illithid from sucking our brains out, or deflect beholder rays?" She asked.

 Tomi frowned and stepped forward, still eying the flail clenched in Valen's hand. "Er, no," he admitted, "but I used to have a cloak that could do that."

 Valen finally put his flail away. "We will see what the Seer has to say about them," he decided.

 "Seer?" Sharwyn perked up. "Is this your leader? I'm sorry, and you are?"

 "This is General Valen Shadowbreath," Solaufein interjected with a quick introduction. "The Seer is a dhaerow matron of Eilistraee's priesthood. You will like her. Not all in this city will be welcoming to rivvin as she."

 Deekin nodded and added, "Best avoids everyone that's not a moon-worshiper or they mights serve you up ons a platter."

 "Aw you don't want roast halfling!" Tomi said. "We're too gamey."

 "Tell me about it," Binne muttered. Then, at the perturbed/amused looks this warranted, she folded up the letter in her hands and added, "I mean, uh . . . We should take them to the Seer."

 The surfacers endured as many ugly looks as they did intrigued and took in their surroundings with wide eyes. The city in the dark was luminous in a way, with tall glowing mushrooms and delicately carved structures lit by colorful faefire, such that no one had trouble seeing in the visible spectrum. People dressed in vibrantly colorful spider silks stopped in the streets and in their interactions to watch the armored company as they passed, though Solaufein knew that it was not the rivvin that drew the disgust from his kinsman, but him for defying custom and walking freely with them.

 "Is that . . . A Lolth temple?" Sharwyn breathed as they approached the foreboding, arachnoid structure.

 "Hm-hmm," Binne confirmed beside her with a hum, as she continued to peruse the letter with a confused knit in her brow.

 "This way," Valen directed, holding open the main door for them.

 The Seer was in the library once more that morning, surrounded by looseleaf and tea, the only change from the previous evening being that Nathyrra was seated next to her engaged in the same activity. It struck Solaufein suddenly as he remembered Aphra and the red mage pouring over tomes at the Temple of Oghma in Athkatla, hunting for hidden mentions of ancient scrolls. He swam in nostalgia and bowed instinctively in greeting to the females.

 "Ah! I see you've brought me a few guests," the Seer greeted, and strode around her table to get a proper look at them. Uncertainly, Sharwyn and Tomi bowed. "No need for that here," she said.

 "You're the, er, Seer then?" Tomi greeted back, though the end of it curled up in a question. Both the surfacers seemed thrown by her unexpected friendliness.

 "I am. This is Nathyrra," she introduced, "and I see you've already met our General Valen, and Solaufein."

 "We had met before," Sharwyn corrected. "I am Sharwyn of Neverwinter, milady, and this is Tomi Undergallows. We've come to assist in the war effort however we can. We're at your disposal."

 The Seer inclined her head. "In my culture, it is considered a weakness to place yourself at someone's utter disposal," she gently chided. "Lest they literally dispose of you. But please, be welcome here. I know it may not seem so, given where you stand, but you are safe within these walls. I and my fellow Eilistraeens have taken up residence here since the silence of the goddess Lloth."

 "Silence?" Sharwyn was confused.

 "Her prayers go unanswered," the Seer confirmed, "and her priestesses lack any power now. For the first time since our Descent, my people are free of her yoke. Let us speak freely - I sense something has troubled you."

 "Aye," Binne spoke up, and for the first time tore her eyes away from Blackstaff's letter. She turned to Sharwyn with a rare serious expression. She handed the letter over to the Seer, who perused it quickly, and handed it over to Nathyrra once she was finished. While she read, Binne asked of Sharwyn, "You say you've seen this before - a rune like this, called a Word of Power? What's it about?"

 Sharwyn seemed surprised by this. "You do not remember?"

 "Remember what?"

 The bard nodded. "Let me try to explain. I knew when we met at the Yawning Portal that we had known each other before, but my memory was . . . Unclear as to why. Do you ever get that feeling, that you have known someone perhaps in another life?"

 Binne's eyes rolled. "All the time."

 Sharwyn nodded. "Well, it was like that for me, meeting you."

 "We have met," the cambion reminded her.

 Sharwyn spoke, "Yes, but I understand why now. We have met before, traveled together in the War, when we were both stationed at Beorunna's Well. The Hero . . . was tasked by Aarin Gend to recover runes like this, called the Words of Power used by the cult behind the Wailing Death."

 Though his knowledge of the war was limited due to his presence on only one front, it surprised Solaufein to recall that they had both fought in the same conflict and yet had never crossed paths until now. Binne's frown was puzzled. Nathyrra had finished reading the letter and placed it on the table in front of her, smoothing it out with her fingers. Binne spoke, "I vaguely remember that. I mostly got stuck with dump escort missions, but there was something to do with the druids that I can scarcely recall. Gargle dimmed me brain."

 Tomi chuckled. "Aye, that's the way it is for me too," he added. "Plenty o' things about the war I'd rather have not remembered meself."

 Sharwyn shook her head. "It wasn't alcohol, I fear. There was an ancient vault. It was a strange adventure we were involved in, but it was completely impenetrable to entry. A flaw had to be instituted into its design before it could be opened; an impossible task, as the vault was constructed ten thousand years ago. However, one of the Words that was recovered allowed individuals to travel back to a specific point in time - any time at all - and return within an hour."

 Binne blinked several times. In the silence, Deekin's pen started to scratch on paper as he recorded what transpired. "What?"

 "That's impossible," Valen blurted.

 "Possible with the right magical catalyst, according to this Archmage's letter," Nathyrra added. "These runes must be very powerful artifacts . . . I wonder how this Blackstaff acquired one such."

 The bard shrugged. "I was told to deliver the message but know little beyond that. I know that was how the vault was opened. As I said, a strange adventure. It was explained to me after that traveling through time in such a way can alter one's memories. As it did in our case, for example. Though I remember it better now and seeing the rune again has helped my memory."

 "This is true?" Solaufein looked to his companion in surprise.

 Binne sighed. "I believe you, because it sounds too incredible not to be true, but I cannae scarcely recall what happened. I remember the Well, mind, and Bishop well enough - and I think it's coming back to me . . ."

 She shrugged again. "Perhaps it will, in time. I remember it now only after seeing the Word in your hand. I believe Khelben Blackstaff has entrusted you with something amazing. He has given you the ability to travel to a point of time in the past and fix any one thing to your liking before returning. A sort of universal key into any door you wish, for one use only."

 Binne whistled. "Tis a mighty thing he has trusted me with, then. I wouldn't trust me with such a thing."

 "You do yourself too little credit once more," Solaufein chided. "You were his apprentice, and you have previous experience with such matters."

 "One of dozens such apprentices," she reminded him, "and he sent me down here in the first place to figure out what happened to Halaster, which I didn't exactly accomplish. Not without help."

 "We discovered where he was and freed him together," Nathyrra reminded her.

 Binne was not convinced. "It feels like a weighty responsibility for me, still. A one-use-only artifact like this—"

 "Must be used wisely, if at all," Valen cut in gruffly. "I do not trust it."

 "Oh, you don't trust in anything," Binne assessed with an eye-roll.

 "It is a gift in our hour of need," the Seer announced, silencing them all. "You will know, if and when it is time to use such a boon. For now, our numbers grow and our people thrive despite imminent conflict. It is a blessed day that has brought you two to us. How does the surface fare?"

 Tomi was the first to respond in his usual manner. "Like shit - uh, no offense. I mean there's quite an offense being mounted, still beholders and drow poppin' up like daisies out of the sewers, but nothing pouring out of Undermountain anymore leastwise."

 "You win some, you lose some," Binne said. "So things haven't really changed much, then?"

 "That's what I always say. Nah, s'why I volunteered to go with Shar - I'm not needed much up there like the others, but at least down here I can do some good back-stabbing."

 There followed a small debate between the General, Nathyrra, and the Seer on what to do with the rivvin, but it was ultimately unanimously decided that they would be safest in the temple away from the prying eyes of Mae'vir and the House's allies. They were given the quarters that had been prepared for Binne, which none of them minded. Deekin, who had been mysteriously silent during the entire encounter, expressed a desire to 'get it downs while it all be fresh' while the surfacers left to get accustomed to their new surroundings, escorted by Valen who firmly didn't trust them and was making it abundantly clear. Binne was enlisted by Deekin to relate the details about the war that she could still remember, along with Sharwyn, and Nathyrra had business to attend to with the golems that confounded Solaufein, and so he and the Seer were left alone in the library for the first time.

 "Walk with me," the Seer suggested. "I wish to show you something." He could not resist and offered her his arm in accompaniment.

 She led him out of the main doors and behind the temple to a small and peaceful mushroom garden, with a gentle stream of water that ran through it toward the Dark River. It had been cultivated by the previous owners of the temple, that much was clear, but the reason for it was missing. Solaufein's mental image of Lloth's priesthood did not match up with the gentle garden's keeping.

 "It surprised me too," the Seer said as she read his expression, switching to Ilythiiri now that they were alone. "And yet . . . Here it is. I find Eilistraee's grace more abundant in this quiet place, than I do anywhere else in Lith My'athar."

 She let go of his arm and knelt, arranging her white silken skirts around her black knees as she sat down amongst the phosphorescence that lit her features ethereally. "Ask your questions, Solaufein," she suggested, because on some level she knew about the questions that he held back from her even if he himself wasn't fully aware of them, "and do not worry about interrupting my prayers."

 He sat down beside her with less grace and kept a wary eye out for potential assassins. Yet, his ears betrayed nothing but the babbling of the brook. It went against his nature to be at peace in his homeland, but the quiet and stillness crept into him and relaxed him against his better judgment. ". . . How much do you know of me?" He found himself asking.

 "I know our Lady sent you to me," she answered quietly. "I know she plays a long game that she has no choice but to play, due to the chaos sowed by Lloth's absence. I know your name, and your face, for they came to me in the dream. I know that there is a pain in you that has never healed, and I know you have many questions for me. Go ahead and ask them, Solaufein. I do not mind."

 He paused contemplatively. A thousand questions stirred, but only one poured forth: "Who are you?"

 She seemed surprised. "You wish to know about me?" He nodded. "My name is Ourana. I . . . Am fond of the color blue, but most fond of silver, for it reflects our lady's moonlight perfectly." She smiled beatifically. "I have a weakness for a good vintage of morimatra."

 "Do not we all?" He smiled. "What else? Where are you from?"

 It was a moment before she answered, and her eyes searched the darkness as if it held her memories. "I was once of . . . The name does not matter. My house was dissolved. I ascended to Matron before it did, but only for a very short time. I only saw the rise of Sinvyl from afar before she called herself Valsharess, but in a way I feel as though she and I are connected. We both followed very different paths, and I often wonder what it would be like should our fortunes have been reversed."

 "Your accent is centralized, Menzoberranzan, I think," he assessed, recalling Viconia DeVir.

 "Yes, I once called it my home," she confirmed, and shifted in her seat to face him better. "In a way, I miss it's beauty and structure. The glimmer of light when Narbondel reached its zenith, the streets lined with cavernous homes whose architecture defies the senses . . . Now Lith My'athar has a peculiar way of making me homesick for a place I have never before missed."

 He looked back to the city, and sympathized. "I feel it as well," he confirmed. "I know your meaning."

 "I think we all feel this way, those of us not born under the stars," she said. A frown crossed her face that did not seem to belong there. "To a few of my kin, this is their first adventure into our homeland. I have often wondered how strange it must be for them to experience this place, and how alien to them it must seem. I do not miss my old life, but I miss the quiet hum of the pools, and the assuring spires lit in fae fire." Her expression grew wistful. "I miss my home on the surface just as much. We have an enclave outside of Silverymoon where I have a garden enclosed by white pillars that opens to the sky. I had never known peace until I saw Her on the surface for the first time. I imagine you must have felt something similar."

 He laid down next to her and placed his arms beneath his head, feeling more relaxed than he had in a long time. "I do not know," he admitted freely. "Peace is not a gift I have earned. I did not know any other of Eilistraee's followers on the surface before I came here, though I had heard of them." He distantly recalled Drogan's small Academy and the numerous, incomprehensible tomes that the dwarf had piled around his home in massive stacks of bookshelves. The scholar had been confounded by Solaufein's inability to read, and eventually gave up and simply read to him to accommodate him. He'd been stunned to hear of other Eilistraeens that had made their mark on the world, such that history had seen fit to record them. This was knowledge never afforded to males of Ust'Natha. It pleased and saddened him to know that they were less well-known than the proportion of his people that still lived under the thumb of the vicious Lloth.

 The Seer smiled, abating his turbulent thoughts. "Where else would we be? We love to dance under her moonlight and sing her songs. She does not hear them as well in the Underdark, but she is found to be here still, always with her people." She gestured to the quiet garden all around them, as if this was where the goddess dwelt. Solaufein frowned, less sure of it than she was. He had only ever felt Eilistraee as the Seer spoke of her when he rested under the light of the kind full moon.

 "I have been unable to place your accent," the Seer suddenly said, interrupting his thoughts and changing the subject. "Imloth suggested it might be from Ched Nasad. I admit to curiosity - was he correct?"

 He was a little amused that this was something her prescient sight had not automatically gifted her with the knowledge of. That she was curious at all about him pleased him. "Ched Nasad is a week's ride from Ust'Natha, the place of my birth," he corrected. "An outpost, smaller than Lith My'athar near a surface entrance fraught with elvish activity. The forces of Tethyr would often battle with our Great Houses."

 The Seer's expression fell and grew deeply saddened as understanding dawned upon her features. "The place of First Descent . . . Of our Sundering. You were born there?"

 Stories, legends, folk tales - there were none who lived that yet remembered the truth of Ust'Natha's origins, where the first dark elves were said to have descended into the Underdark. It had been a glorious legacy to uphold, in a way. "Yes," Solaufein confirmed. "Ust'Natha is no more. What few houses did not flee to other cities and find refuge were destroyed alongside House Despana, first house of the city. I escaped its destruction."

 "Despana was your House?"

 "Only in that I was its weapon master. I led the male fighter's society of the city and trained its forces in battle." He found it easy to speak of his past with her, despite having never spoken of it with anyone before. Even Aphra had been too tactful to ask of what she had seen and said only once on the subject that 'some scars ran too deep.' Ourana had a way about her that encouraged the heart to open against its better judgment.

 She paused but a moment before leaning back to catch his eyes. "May I ask how you came to leave it? I imagine your conversion must have influenced it."

 The story spilled out of him with ease, despite the pain in his past that had previously kept him from uttering it. "I hid my beliefs for many years before leaving. I did not believe I could leave without resulting in great death to innocent people. I felt the need to protect those in my city, even if at times we were undeserving. We were warned of the impending destruction by a rivvil under a glamour, a seamless illusion concocted by a nearby silver dragon. The silver lady's eggs had been taken from her nest by Despana's matron for use in a summoning ritual. The ritual was disrupted by the rivvil and her allies. Many of Ust'Natha managed to escape the dragon's subsequent wrath. Others did not wish to leave their life behind and died there. I had left my people in my heart many years before that, so when the chance to leave the Underdark crossed my way, I took it without hesitation. She offered me a way out, to see the moon for the first time, to burn under the sun, to feel the wind at my back, to wonder with her at the stars. I have not regretted it since."

 Malla Ourana nodded. "I understand. Then this is the source of your pain, this city you have left behind. I have heard of Ust'Natha's silence from my grove. It trembled through the earth. It happened in a blink of the eye to our kind. Tethyr announced a new Queen, and far in the south of Amn where Ust'Natha still remains silent, the Bhaalspawn and their kind did tread. Where they walked, the world bled."

 "You see much," he admitted.

 She smiled. "Hence my title," and she laughed. "I notice things and stitch them together with intuition. I did not suspect Ust'Natha's fall to have involved Bhaal's warring children, until now."

 He sat back up next to her. "She was one of them, the infiltrator. I knew her as Aphra of Candlekeep. I followed her to Saradush, alongside a sister of hers and eventually a brother, with a cantankerous druid, a tiefling actor, a deranged ranger from Rashemen, a wingless avariel, and the Chosen of Shar. This was years before I went to Undrentide or met Deekin."

 She laughed again, and the sound of it delighted him. "I see you've always kept eclectic company. The Scourge of the Sword Coast, they call her in Silverymoon. A shame how stories deform in their tellings over time." She sighed sadly. "A warrior of her surpassing ability sure has gained enemies with her tale; I suspect many will try to topple her legend, as wizards do with Elminster. What was she really like?"

 He glanced at her askance and found himself shying away from her gaze for the first time. "She is . . . A difficult subject."

 "Indulge my curiosity, Solaufein," the Seer urged. "I have little but the impending doom to keep me occupied, and you must admit your tale is interesting."

 "Aphra . . ." He began but found his words failing him. How to describe someone so vital? Who had been so necessary to his being? Who was a world wrapped into themselves? "She is studious."

 Ourana seemed mildly disappointed by this word. "Studious?" She tasted it, as if it were unfamiliar.

 He struggled to make her understand, but he so little understood the woman himself that the act of explanation was difficult. He began haltingly. "Aphra studies the world. As Valen studies battle. She devoured knowledge and distilled meaning, but . . . lacked wisdom. She feared nothing at all except what peculiarities lay in her mortal reveries. She slept so rarely, terrified of it. She seemed . . . very tired to me when we parted. Eventually whenever sleep would claim her, she would stay unconscious for nearly half a day, drifting in between the present and the past. She was so young when I first met her, convinced she would never see old age. She is burdened by the weight of her father's destiny always, and she lives her life accordingly, as if each day will become her last. She is . . . Very mortal." And that was when his explanation failed.

 The Seer took a moment to process this before answering in his silence. "We seem to move so slowly to the younger races. I have often pondered if they think of how we feel, watching everything around us so rapidly decay. I was more curious about her appearance, however." She laughed again, lightly. "You see, they have wanted posters of her still up and down the Coast, which I think must do her some great injustice as they portray her as a great and monstrous horned figure."

 He found himself telling her things of his own volition that he had told no one, not even Drogan. "The bounty was crafted so that she might walk freely without disguise. It is easier to change a name than it is a face. I met her first in her guise as a dhaerow named Veldrin, a dragon-crafted glamour that I thought to be fair. She seemed strange to me, pale eyes, long loose hair, and somewhat tall for a female. She irritated me at first with her informal manner, but I appreciated this about her in time. By the dawn's sunlight, when we escaped to the surface, I saw that her hair had turned to shadow and her skin to bronze - but her eyes were slitted as a dragon's and as pale as the moon."

 Though he remembered then in that moment that he had escaped the Underdark under the cover of night, under the light of the half-moon that assaulted his eyes like daggers. When he had finally been able to see without pain, he saw Veldrin limned in her true form in the silver of Eilistraee's light, and he had wept like a child, overwhelmed.

 "You admire her," the Seer realized.

 It was rare for elven kind to be so attached to mortals, but Solaufein had always been unconventional by even dark elven standards, keeping company with kobolds, cambions, and dragons. "Openly and completely," he confirmed. "She forgave me."

 "How long since you left her company?" The Seer wondered.

 He struggled to recall. "Seven, eight years. Long for the mortal races, but near for me. I saw things there in the god of murder's temple that I care not to revisit. Aphra left for Kara-Tur many years ago with her brother. I am sure she has traveled the world, as she wanted to."

 "It does not sound as if you parted on ill terms, then."

 He shook his head. "No," he said softly. "We were close for a time, but mortals are quick. My affection for her will never dim, but her absence does not pain me. I know she is where she wishes to be. I think she was . . . Or felt she had diminished after what happened in the war. I only hope she has recovered, and that we may meet in more peaceful times. If we are lucky enough to know peace."

 "I heard a love waver in your voice, when I asked you to describe her," she noted.

 He stared at the glowing blue and green of the mushrooms in thought of that strange rivvil word, 'love.' The Seer switched to the Common tongue when she spoke the word, as there was no word in their language for such a concept. "In the way you love Eilistraee, I love her," he finally spoke. "My love for our goddess does not inspire me to sing; I choose to honor her by my sword. I feel no need to dance naked under her light. But for Aphra, I might have done such things, had she but asked them of me. Thankfully, she never did, and the world has never been subjected to the sight of my dancing."

 She laughed much louder at this, and Ourana's eyes sparkled in delight. "Oh, but dancing might bring you joy!"

 He scoffed. "And then I must give up my sulking? I think not."

 "It sounds as if you have been through much in such short time," she assessed finally. "I wonder at the source of your pain, Solaufein, but I will not pry. It is your business."

 The Seer's head bent in prayer as she clasped her hands before her lap, and he lapsed into silence. After a while, he found the courage to speak again: "The name of my pain is Phaere. She is long dead, so there is no healing to be done. It is an old wound and does not grieve me, who I am . . . Is because of it. It has shaped me." His time with Drogan and adventures with Deekin had done much to distance him from the pain, but he found that it did still hurt to speak her name aloud in the Seer's presence. It was not grief, but something lesser that had grown in the spaces that the grief had left behind - an old wound, an aged ache that had grown frayed at its edges.

 She did not lift her head as she spoke: "If you would but ask our Lady for solace, I am sure she will grant you it. Sometimes, however, it is not solace that we need."

 "I was built for war, not solace," he told her.

 She turned to him and there was a hardness in her gaze that had not been there before. "I am a Sword Dancer of Eilistraee first, and Seer second. She may have granted me visions, but I have spent years studying her arts of both dance and swordplay. Eilistraee has Chosen you for a greater purpose than mine, however. I know your pain, Solaufein, and thank you for sharing its name with me. You have honored me today. Come, let us return to the temple, lest Valen tear the place apart in worry."

 "It has been my honor, Malla Ourana," he said and stood to offer her his hand. She took it gingerly and together they walked back to the temple, arm in arm.