Chapter 6: Mekkane

Mekkane was of several large caverns with the walls broken down, forming one irregular cavern. Everything about the city seemed irregular, from the wide tunnel that sloped down to it which the two of you now walked on, to the aggressively uneven ceiling.

One, there were no guards apparent as the two of you sauntered into the city, to all the world a fairly successful mercenary and his 'pet'. Two, races of all kinds hurried about their business in the city, which reeked of rubbish, spices, and smoke from lamps. Three, the quarter of the city the two of you had entered in appeared to be the market - strange for it to be on the outside of the city, but apparently the market was, literally, surrounding the city - the city was in rings.

The outer ring was the market, the ring inside that the offices, then the houses and miscellaneous. Most strange...usually cities were not planned like that.

Most of those passing the two of you merely gave you slightly apprehensive glances, and ignored Winter. She wandered rather happily around the stalls, admiring the wide variety of items sold, until you began to wonder whether she had forgotten about the main reason as to why the two of you had entered Mekkane in the first place.

You were a large nigouar, and could mostly look at what the stalls held - pottery of amazing craftsmanship, sold by a gnarled goblin with bad teeth and worse breath, hunks of bloody meat at a butcher's, and cooked food, nearly every fifth stall here. Winter bought some sort of fruity wine in a flask, which she managed to slip you some (cupped in her hand), sausages of which you ate quite a few (keeping in nigouar character) and some bread and melted cheese, which she chewed at thoughtfully.

Passing a store of exotic pets, where Winter looked wistfully at a snow fox, caught from the Surface World. It barked at you and tried to flatten itself into the part of its cage furthest from you - you bared your teeth in a laugh that came out like a growl, and it squealed in terror. Hurriedly you shut your mouth, and the shopkeeper, a harguk or non-duergar dwarf, backed away slightly from you.

"Malla sargtlin," the harguk said in passable drow, "Your pet is well trained, I hope?" Sargtlin being drow for 'drow warrior', with 'Malla' a term of honor.

"Shebali is not a pet, but abbil," Winter said coolly.

"Friend? Ah," the harguk said quickly. "Would you be interested in any of my goods?"

The merchant was losing the initiative, and Winter took pity on him. "No," she said, if not unkindly, and stalked off. You followed before the rest of the creatures decided to panic.

You wondered about your new name as you padded beside her.

"Shebali, or rogue," Winter winked down at you. "What people believe nigouar should be, no?"

You curled your lip up in a weak smile.

The two of you wandered aimlessly through Mekkane, the noise level beginning to get on the nerves of both of you, then Winter stopped abruptly outside a shabby looking, disreputable tavern which was strangely large for its type of building, and squinted at the sign - Sithyrr, the Hand Crossbow. You wondered vaguely why drow or dwarf taverns normally ended up being called weapons, then froze as Winter boldly entered. Without much choice, you slunk in after her, noting belatedly what Winter had noticed - the sounds of weapons clashing within.

The interior of the tavern was dim-lit with dark lanterns. There was a bar to the far left, and many round tables and rickety chairs at erratic positions. All attention was on a large cage of metal where a deceptively slender, tall male drow holding two swords was dueling with a duergar with the customary large axe. The duergar was getting the worst of it, even if he was competent with his barbaric weapon - the male drow was too fast for him.

Winter chuckled to herself and murmured something about for a moment thinking it to be Zaknafein, then watched as the drow finally knocked the duergar unconscious. The cage was opened and the duergar dragged out, and the drow male crossed his swords defiantly.

"Any others wish to challenge me?" he asked, in the rough tongue known commonly as tu'rilthiir, half drow, half many other languages, fast becoming a leading common language of the Underdark, quiet voice somehow reaching out over the crowd, and he calmly flicked the blood from his blades. "No? Then I win the prize..."

"What is this prize?" To your horror, Winter was speaking in a studied, amused manner designed to provoke.

The drow male peered at her, then inclined his head at a table next to the cage. On it were several small bags, open, the contents adamantite coins, more coins than you had seen in one place before.

Winter smiled whimsically. "I believe I may deign to try."

She walked up the shallow steps and entered the cage, drawing her swords. The door clicked shut behind her, and you had to sit at the foot of the steps and watch. No one bothered you, which was unsurprising.

The male drow did not recognize Winter for a female - he simply bowed slightly as he would to a fellow male competitor. "Your name, sargtlin?"

"No need for it," Winter returned the bow, then attacked without warning. The male managed to put up his swords in time, and even than the clash of metal drove him back for a moment before Winter danced away. Irr'liancrea had been disguised as a twin of the Name blade...wild of hair, eyes and armor, Winter seemed like a member of the Wandering Tribes herself.

They attacked and pushed each other back and forth, and you wondered why some people chose to call sword fighting a dance - it was just a fight, with opponents trying their best to kill each other, and your heart was in your mouth, and you wondered how people could find entertainment out of watching this savagery...

There was a break in the battle, and the male crossed his swords and lunged forward, hands curving out, a scissors-like move, which seemed too close to Winter to handle...

Metal on metal, light reflecting off adamantite...

One of Winter's blades - the Name blade - caught the two swords a few inches from her face, and her other blade...

The blunt edge of the changed Irr'liancrea slammed forcefully into the male's ribs, driving him backwards, then further back as Winter whirled and kicked his face with a classic roundhouse kick.

You would have frowned if you could - Winter could have killed the male if she had used the sharp edge...

The male had apparently realized this too, because he glanced at Winter warily, then straightened. "Why?"

"I do not want to kill you," Winter raised an eyebrow. "Why for?"

The male looked so comically nonplussed that you laughed, a coughing sound that everyone, thankfully, ignored, even if the entire tavern was now hushed.

The male seemed to take it as a quirk of Winter's, and then he attacked again, a flurry of stabs, not caring to see if one managed to mark Winter before launching the next one, a furious assault that Winter, her back to you, seemed to be trying her best to parry. She finally managed to catch both his blades in hers, and shoved him bodily backwards.

With morbid fascination, you watched as blood drops formed irregular small circles under her. At least one of the stabs had hit its target, then.

Winter chuckled, slightly strained in pain. "A special move? I have not seen its like."

The male grinned. "It should have killed you."

"How amazingly blunt." Winter raised her right hand up to her (shoulder?) gingerly, then moved into another stance, turned to the side, right leg in front of the left leg, swords parallel to the ground, right hand crossed over the left with the hilt near her ear, left hilt near her waist. "Maybe you can counter this."

The male had obviously not seen this unorthodox move before, either, and he held up his swords before him, a traditional 'ready' stance.

Winter lunged forward, right sword arching up, left sword down, and the male was too confused to try and attack through the obvious opening, so he went for her swords, also arching his swords wide.

Winter went for his opening. She abruptly spun around in mid-charge such that her back faced him, still moving, she hit his wrists with her elbows, causing him to drop his swords, then spun again, tightly, right sword's sharp edge against his throat.

They paused there for a moment, then Winter stepped backwards. "Pick up your swords," she said cheerfully.

"What?" the male looked stunned, and rightfully so.

"We are continuing, aren't we?" Winter grinned, enjoying herself even though blood began to stain her cloak as well. "Your go."

Warily, he did so, then while still crouched down he abruptly stretched forward, the large step by his right leg bringing him into striking distance.

Winter bit out a curse and whirled, stamping with one foot and managing to catch his left wrist between boot and ground, but with his right hand he stabbed upwards...

Too close to parry without causing it to slash away and still injure her...

She dropped the Name blade and her hand flashed forward. Time seemed to stand still, the two figure frozen in the cage, then you realized that somehow, the male's blade had not impaled her on it.

You trotted around the cage, and saw with a certain degree of awe that Winter had caught the blade delicately between the third and fourth fingers on her right hand, managing to stop it from plunging into her heart.

"Still wish to continue?" Winter inquired calmly.

"Dos phuul alur taga ussa," the male said wryly, the pure, musical drow tongue sounding strange in the earthy environment. You are better than me.

Winter inclined her head graciously. "So who won?"

The male winced as her boot pressure increased. "Dos, malla sargtlin!"

Winter inclined her head again, then turned her back on the male. Strangely, he did not indulge in a backstab, but stood up gingerly and watched her go with an odd expression on his face that seemed...calculating?

Winter got to the table and shoved all the bags except one into her satchel. The last she tossed back into the cage under the male's nose. "For being a good fighter," she smiled, then ducked quickly out of the tavern. Behind her, whispers started amongst the audience.

You shot a last look at the male, then padded out after her.

Outside, Winter was cursing under her breath, as she wandered into a side street which was considerably better smelling than the tavern. Fingers made the customary patterns for a healing spell over her wound in the shoulder which looked rather deep, and the wound obligingly closed up. Winter smelled of blood and metal, and she grinned down at you.

"That was fun," she murmured.

Your mouth gaped open. What had it achieved, some fight in a dingy tavern? Not to mention the absolutely weird attitude of that male drow...

Winter wandered down the street quickly, and you had to lope to catch up. "Perhaps you should know that the Sithyrr is a Bregan D'aerthe-run establishment," she chuckled.

You let out a questioning cough.

"I've shielded us from eavesdroppers," Winter shrugged. "Don't worry. I am quite aware of the fact that we are being followed. In any case, I have a side quest to complete here."

Side quest?

"Last time we stopped to rest, the voices?" Winter reminded you gently. Ah yes, the tiny glowing green ball and the flurry of voices behind it, rough, gentle, querulous, amused...

"They informed me a quest had come up a few days ago for Mekkane, and I was the closest qualified to do it," Winter said distractedly. "Somewhere in the resident quarter. Among complaints. Apparently Zaknafein has disappeared somewhere with a gold elf and a moon elf, there has been a new and unlikely accident involving a basketball, a chicken and a set square which caused the Zeta-section of the Loremaster guild to catch fire...those sort of incidents. Hmph."

You decided not to ask.

As the two of you entered the hub circle which was (roughly) the center of the city, you realized that the richer the houses seemed, the closer they were to the center, which was a ugly tower of some ivory-colored rock, unadorned, crude, and boring. Winter stopped outside one of the rich houses, and looked around.

The houses were without gardens, and were full of adornments. Most of them stood on their own, some had walls joined together, all of them were clean, pretty, and quiet. Very strangely quiet.

"Most of the rich should be in the commercial district," Winter commented, "Except for a few. Now, stay here, please."

You sat down on the clean cobbles beside a pillar, as Winter peered at the three-storey, blue-stoned miniature mansion before her, and then disappeared into the small street down it.

You shook yourself and settled down for a long wait. You could smell whoever was following the two of you down the street, well hidden except for their scent - drow, the both of them. Male drow...Bregan D'aerthe? And you wondered if Bregan D'aerthe knew that Winter and yourself were here in disguise...or were they just curious as to why a lone sargtlin and a nigouar were wandering around in the residential area.

More likely they wanted to recruit Winter, you decided. If that was a 'testing ground' for potential recruits, that tavern...well, Winter had certainly attracted their attention.

You fell asleep once, while waiting, then woke with a start out of a nightmare which you thankfully could not remember, and hoped that Winter was fine. She would be, wouldn't she?

You were beginning to panic when she strolled calmly out of the side street, male guise still perfectly in place, the only difference being a bit more blood on her chain mail.

What had she done?

"That was not too hard," Winter chuckled, and by the change in direction of her voice - she didn't seem to be speaking to you - you knew that the shield against silence was off. So she was speaking to the followers? Why?

"Worried, Shebali? You of all should know that a noamuth velg'larn always gets his mark. Come now." She snapped her fingers, and you thought about this new layer of disguise she had put on the two of you - a Wandering assassin?

That was a covert branch by Vel'Xundussa Magthere, the famous Royal Drow Security Institute...you only knew about them because Petriarch also hired out his inn to the occasional one. Vel'Xundussa Magthere usually only produced Veldriss and Veldruk, Shadow Mistresses and Masters, but occasionally a select few could be noamuth velg'larn, those that owed no fealty to the institute and worked only for money.

Maybe Winter was enjoying herself too much, you realized sourly. She couldn't really have been trained in Vel'Xundussa Magthere.

"How do you know?" Winter was speaking to you again now, which meant the shield was back up.

She...

"Graduate," Winter smiled. "Not first class, of course, but good enough. All nobles of House Ra'Kest can choose either to learn in the institutes in Irinelaeran or get a House-sponsored scholarship to outside institutes. I chose Vel'Xundussa Magthere, to my Matron's dismay...but training for high priestess could always be delayed. To her surprise I did graduate."

"Has been a long time since I used the title. How fun. Maybe I should exhibit my ilinsar as well. This should impress those two. Except the amulet is in my rooms at Sanctuary..."

Excessive, you thought, disapprovingly.

"Oh very well," Winter sniffed. "Now for that tower."

Tower?

The two of you walked half-around the tower, seeing no door, then Winter smiled, in satisfaction, and walked through the stone. You blinked, but automatically followed...

A faint fog of white, and you were inside. The interior of the tower seemed to be a large, winding stone staircase towards some room at the top. Winter grumbled, then started up.

After a long grueling climb, the two of you surfaced into the top room - a room made even more cramped by the clutter in it. There was a single, badly cut window, a mass of cloth in a corner that looked like a bed, a table and a chair, and the rest of the room was filled with shelves so full of books some had overflowed onto the stone ground.

What you thought was a badly torn cloak hung on the chair unfolded itself.

A winged drow?

A rather large male drow, normal except for the huge dragon wings from his shoulders and the slender, scaly tail that snaked out from under his dull green robes. The embroidery was long faded, and the belt torn and patched, and the boot leather scratched, but the drow seemed to command the room with his presence.

The scales were black, their shine like finest obsidian, the wings supple and the clawed tip, when folded, arching higher than the drow's head, and the taloned ends nearly brushing the floor.

Gold eyes of a dragon, slitted like a reptile's, stared down at Winter. "Have a ssseat, my dear," he said in a sibilant, hissing baritone.

"Don't use that voice on me," Winter chided the creature, sitting down on a stack of books. "You know it gets on my nerves."

"Nelgetha ussa," The voice became smooth drow. "Forgive me. What brings you back here after so many years?"

"Information," Winter leant back. "Assistance."

"Do you never visit another socially?" the creature sat back on its...his chair. You sat down next to Winter, warily. "But I see you become more and more interesting each time you visit. A nigouar which is not nigouar, and a Name blade, and male guise? Bravo, Winter. What will you be next time? Disguised as a drider? An exotic dancer?"

"Stop rambling, tagnik'zur," Winter chided. "Now, I need you to send a message back to Sanctuary."

"Ah, I see that you have used the more polite name which I have, which means you do need my help seriously. Very well. Message on...?"

Winter tossed a slightly bloody medallion to the creature. It was a long silver chain on a single adamantite sphere, perfect, but otherwise plain.

The creature peered at the sphere, then shrugged, and began to trace a shape in the air with one finger, of which, you realized morbidly, the nail was long and pointed. The line he traced began to glow red, then the space within cleared to show a considerably brighter place, of a desk behind which a human, sat. He raised an eyebrow at all of you, then smiled at Winter.

They spoke in the tongue which Winter used to cast her spells, then she took the medallion back from the creature and tossed it through the portal. The human caught it clumsily, then noted something down in the large book before him, then nodded and waved.

The creature clenched its fist theatrically and the portal disappeared.

"Thanks," Winter smiled.

"Very neatly done," he replied. "Now, as to information...that flamboyant display in the Sithyrr has served your purpose. Those two are probably still tailing you, though it may seem rather suspicious if you were to continue to speak so loudly before them. Keep in character, Winter. Noamuth velg'larn do not give away secrets so carelessly."

"Sorry," Winter snickered.

How had it...he known so much?

"Tagnik'zur has many secrets," Winter said without turning her head.

He chuckled. "It is an amusement to one who will live forever. Dragons, eh?"

"Can I trust Qarrin and Mikaras?" Winter grinned.

"Can you trust me?" he countered.

"I need to meditate on that," Winter chuckled.

"L'alurl abbil zhah dosstan, my dear." He smiled, quoting, "The best trusted friend is yourself. Aluve'Winter, and good luck."