|
"I... did... not... do... it! I... swear... it!" Vrinma struggled to plead as a rabid, half-bald Drisinil tightly gripped her throat.
"Liar!" Drisinil screamed, then flung her young sister into the nearest rock wall. "You dare lay a hand on me! Prepare for a slow death you little whore!" Drisinil backhanded the terrified youth across the face, then drew a dagger with her other hand.
"Listen to her Drisinil. If you will calm yourself enough to lie detect you will know that she did not do it!" Genevee shouted from the side. Drisinil instantly spun around and flung an invisible wall of force at Genevee, knocking her backwards over her own work bench and onto the floor.
"Stay out of this you fat faerie or you are next!" Drisinil screamed.
"She is right! It was someone else," Vrinma whimpered, cringed against the wall.
"Someone else?" Drisinil screamed, then planted a fist hard into Vrinma's stomach. Vrinma's torso whipped forward, but Drisinil promptly grabbed the young girl by the back of the hair and pulled her back up again, now pressing the dagger into Vrinma's breast. "Well someone else is about to have her Lloth damned heart cut from her pretty little-" Drisinil's expression suddenly contorted and became one of total confusion, as her air supply had mysteriously been cut off.
"Release her!" bellowed a familiar authoritarian voice from far behind. The dagger fell from Drisinil's hand and Vrinma managed to wriggle free of her other arm. However, Drisinil did not fight her. Instead she stumbled around to see her Matron Mother, flanked by Dureen, Tanj'ee, and two guards approaching from the far side of the library. Hesken-P'aj held a clenched fist in front of her and an expression on her ancient face that Drisinil had not seen directed at her in centuries - an expression of sheer disgust.
"Ma...tron... I..." Drisinil attempted to gasp for air as her Matron slowly approached, however Hesken-P'aj's magical grip around her windpipe was solid. Beating at her own chest, Drsinil soon fell to her knees as dizziness and panic swept over her. And the more she panicked and thrashed about, the more vicious her mother's snarl became. In desperation Drisinil threw herself at the feet of her angry matron and beat the stone floor with her fists repeatedly. Then suddenly her lungs filled with air again.
"This is a new look for you," Hesken-P'aj remarked, to the collective laughter of her flanking daughters. Drisinil, was unable to respond as she writhed on the ground, strenuously trying to regain her breath. "I take it that you think that my youngest daughter was responsible."
"Yes! That little wench did this to me," Drisinil gasped as she began to push herself up again. Hesken-P'aj cast a stern look at Dureen, at her side. A wave of excitement quickly flushed over her second born daughter.
"Oh, with pleasure Matron," Dureen whipspered.
"I have every right to punish her as I see-" Drisinil's tirade was extinguished by the boot of her sister crushed down on the top of her back, shoving her face into the floor again.
"You will not move until I say otherwise," Hesken-P'aj tersely ordered. "Because you are my eldest daughter and heir, I will assume that the Spider Queen shall tell me if she desires your death for defiling her name." Dureen resisted the urge to kick her hated sister in the head and backed away, reclaiming her former position. Hesken-P'aj then looked over to Vrinma, who was still cringed against the stone wall, but no longer shaking with fear. "Vrinma, approach me," Hesken-P'aj ordered. Feeling more confident than she had in years, the disheveled and battered young princess approached the old matriarch and knelt before her. "It has been too long since we last spoke," Hesken-P'aj warmly spoke, clasping the young girl's left ear.
"Yes Matron, it has," Vrinma meekly replied. Hesken-P'aj let go of her and took a step back, assuming her usual posture.
"Is there any truth to her accusation?" the barked.
Vrinma instantly enlightened to the fact that this a moment to grasp, a moment to kill for. Totally cognizant of her innocence of this misdeed, Vrinma measured her words carefully, confidently. "Mother, other than the first day, I have never been welcomed by any of my sisters," Vrinma spoke, focussing her gaze on the Matron. "But that one," she snarled, whipping towards and pointing at Drisinil, "has spared no effort to break me of my will to live! She has enslaved me, beat me, she did this to me," she abruptly pulled back the hair she had so carefully styled, exposing the large bald spot. Hesken-P'aj's eyes shot wide open upon the sight. "I hate her, and wish her dead! But I swear on my soul that I had no part in her…assault," Vrinma spat, in a tone that she quickly regretted. Hesken-P'aj, however, seemed not to hear the last sentence. For she abruptly turned around and marched over to Drisinil.
"Still adding to that despicable collection of yours I see," Tanj'ee cursed from above. "May mother kill you slowly, you filthy piece of-" Tanj'ee cut herself off at the waved hand of her mother.
"I ordered you never to do this. Did you really think that I would not find out? And not only that, but you would disfigure her as she enters the academy!" Hesken-P'aj shouted.
Drisinil raised her chin far enough to protest into her mother's boots. "You gave her to me to raise. She-"
"That was obviously a mistake," Hesken-P'aj interrupted. "Now what did she do to earn such a punishment."
"Mother she-"
"I failed to discipline her son for a breach of etiquette. She did not like my explanation and decided to make me as ugly as she," Vrinma interrupted.
"Vrinma you do not cut me off," Drisinil screamed. Vrinma sniffed at her sister, whose temper no longer carried any weight to her.
"She is your elder, Vrinma," Hesken-P'aj blandly spoke. "What was Jarl'ell's crime?"
Vrinma delighted in practically having been given license to denigrate her hated sister. "Oh it was a horrible one. He looked at me, and asked me a question. A dumb one at that," Vrinma sneered. Hesken-P'aj seemed unmoved. "I do not question the methods with which we raise our males. But at the time I was so tired from recopying genealogies, I had no energy with to teach him a lesson. I just wanted to be rid of him."
Hesken-P'aj's face suddenly soured. "Genealogies," she grimaced. "Who were you recopying genealogies for?" By now Genevee, with a terrified Jarl'ell in tow, had joined the group of priestesses standing about her eldest sister, lying face down on the floor.
"Vrinma," Drisinil warned, then received a boot to the side from Dureen.
"Shut up, witch! I have waited years for this" Dureen harshly whispered. Hesken-P'aj chose to ignore the exchange.
"For you," Vrinma innocently answered. "Drisinil told me you had requested your own reference."
Hesken-P'aj bent as far down as she dared and shouted at her beleaguered daughter. "I never ordered any damned genealogies!"
"Yes, you did," Drisinil protested. "You had told me how you tire of sending for them constantly."
"Get up," Hesken-P'aj bitterly spat. The other priestesses each stepped back as their elder sister clumsily stood up. "I suppose that I did say that. It was not a demand for my own copies. But now that you mention it, that would be quite nice. And I would hate to see Vrinma's work so far go to waste," Hesken-P'aj coyly noted. "You will finish them where she left off."
"What," Drisinil gasped, to a chorus of delighted laughter of her sisters. However, their laughter was silenced when Hesken-P'aj abruptly slapped Drisinil across the face.
"Not another word!" the Matron shouted. "Now, Vrinma," she turned again to her youngest daughter. "There is a little known priestess named Malice Do'Urden. What do you know of her?"
Vrinma perked up at the mention of the name. "Yes. Malice Do'Urden, of Daermon N'a'shezbaernon, the eleventh ranking house. She graduated Arach Tinilith with highest honors two and a half centuries ago. She renowned at the creation of..." Vrinma's face further brightened "of magical curative salves!"
Hesken-P'aj's rare motherly smile matched Vrinma's excitement. "She is also very ambitious and opportunistic; and would undoubtedly jump at the chance to ingratiate herself to me," Hesken-P'aj said with a smirk.
"I would be forever thankful, my matron," Vrinma joyously proclaimed.
Hesken-P'aj became gruff again. "We cannot have you going to the Academy looking like a victim."
Drisinil mustered all the self-control she had to remain poised. "Mother, if I may," she asked, with feigned politeness. Hesken-P'aj looked at her contemptuously. "Am I to... receive..." Drisinil humbly attempted to ask. Hesken-P'aj smiled wickedly.
"Perhaps if your sister is feeling generous and forgiving she may share whatever portion she has left over. I will leave that to her," the Matron responded, to Vrinma's obvious amusement.
"But mother, she did this to me, her elder!" Drisinil cried.
"I did not!" Vrinma screamed. All within the room, even Hesken-P'aj, were taken aback by the young girl's newfound attitude. Vrinma stepped aside of her mother and stared directly at Drisinil, eyes ablaze with defiance. "Though I wish that I had! Blame me if you like. I really do not care what you believe!"
"She tells the truth," called Genevee, who had been silent up until now.
"Auntie, please," Jarl'ell begged in a whisper.
"Hush," she anxiously ordered, slapping the back of his head. She then shoved him aside and marched straight over to the three estranged priestesses, standing directly in the path of Drisinil and Hesken-P'aj. "It was me. I did it," Genevee claimed.
"You lie!" Drisinil spat.
"Remember that day ninety five years ago? I remember it well! I tripped over a book that you planted and spilled the meal you had me serve you. For that you cut a braid from me!" Genevee snarled.
"I did not plant that-"
"You did! No one, not even me at fifteen, leaves books on the ground on accident! I cut off your damned hair; I should have cut your throat instead!" Genevee shouted. Dumbfounded at this small scale coup occurring around her, Drisinil blindly looked to her matron for some kind of support. Before Hesken-P'aj could give any kind of response, a deep male voice filled the room from afar.
"She lies," bellowed a tall figure standing in the entrance. A low hanging brooch shielded the face of the wizard. However, the moment he grabbed the attention of the entire room he pulled the brooch back and proudly strode towards the group.
"Jrevek," Drisinil coldly uttered.
"It was I who did it," the wizard angrily claimed. Amused by yet another false claimant, Hesken-P'aj stepped back and decided to let this spectacle play itself out. "I drugged you, gated to your room, and thought about all those beatings, whippings, haircuts, that you somehow justified" Jrevek fumed, nearly frothing at the mouth. "I shaved that empty skull of yours!" He then turned to Matron Hesken-P'aj, who was intrigued by what appeared to be at least partial truth. "I take full responsibility for this and will proudly accept whatever punishment you deem fit. I did, after all, assault a noble female of this house."
"If I thought you actually intended me to accept such a blatant lie there would be punishment indeed," Hesken-P'aj calmly noted.
"Mother, I beg you to stop this!" Drisinil cried.
"Look at yourself, Drisinil," Hesken-P'aj sternly rebuked. "Your control over them was based on my support of you. With that gone, they have no loyalty or fear of you at all. What if I were to die today? You would be murdered within hours!"
Staring into her ancient mother's angry gaze, for the first time in decades Drisinil was speechless. Then, without warning, a hand yanked her shoulder around, where she found herself staring at a Dureen, flanked by her younger sister Tanj'ee. And Dureen's exceptionally attractive face wore an expression of visceral hatred. "I did it!" she cursed.
"And I assisted," Tanj'ee immediately added.
"We were fighting over... what was it?"
"A hairbrush," Tanj'ee clarified.
"A hairbrush!" Dureen screamed into Drisinil's face, spittle flying. Drisinil was suddenly terrified of her siblings for the first time.
"You certainly solved that argument for us, dear sister! At Arach Tinilith an attack like that would get even me dismissed," Tanj'ee shouted from the side
"I was to accompany Zep'herim Baenre to an illiyitri!" Dureen exploded as she cracked a fist across Drisinil's jaw. Drisinil stumbled back in fear for her life. Dureen, rabid with anger, was actually bearing down on her and she suddenly realized just how muscular her younger sister was.
"Enough" Hesken-P'aj barked. Dureen quickly came to her senses and realized the extent of her colossal insubordination. "I am still here, Dureen," the matron angrily shouted, positioning herself between the two.
"I regret my... my outburst, matron," Dureen gruffly spoke, staring at her trembling, still clenched fist. "But if I am to be punished, it will have been worth this moment," she continued, backing away again.
"So it would seem," the matron replied.
"Mother, I beg you. Please kill her," Dureen pleaded bitterly, pointing at her horrified older sister. "I don't care about becoming Matron. Give it to Tan'jee, she would be better at it than I. Just spare us the tyranny of her!"
"Dureen that will be all!" Hesken-P'aj shouted.
"Dureen," Tanj'ee spoke, gently tugging on her arm. She whipped around to face her sister, whose expression completely devoid of her typical haughtiness. "Our Matron had her reasons for allowing us to continue like this. We have made our point. Let us not overstate it."
We share a purpose here. Do not ruin this, Tanj'ee discreetly signed as she let go of her sister's sleeve.
"Yes, of course," Dureen quietly responded, sharing the obvious fear Tanj'ee exhibited that their mother might have detected that message. "Thank you, Tanj'ee."
Hesken-P'aj then turned once again to face her defeated daughter, who was trembling helplessly. "It would seem that they all wish to claim the deed as their own. That speaks volumes about your leadership capabilities," Hesken-P'aj tersely remarked. "Though truly there is only one among us brave and stupid enough to actually carry out such an act. Jarl'ell, come forth!"
A collective gasp erupted as Jarl'ell, who up until now had remained inconspicuous in the background, slowly approached the matron. You?!" Drisinil gasped.
"This was a serious offence, young male. Drisinil is a high priestess, as well as your mother. Children have been sacrificed for less. Explain!" Hesken-P'aj sternly ordered. Drisinil appeared to be in shock.
"She should not have done that to Vrinma," Jarl'ell boldly answered, flashing a quick glance at his youngest aunt. "And if I am to die for it, then at least I will be free of her," he sadly spoke, motioning to Drisinil.
"I will see to that!" Drisinil screeched.
"Shut up!" Hesken-P'aj shouted, then grabbed Drisinil's snake whip from her side. "I cannot let this go unpunished." Jarl'ell gulped, closed his eyes, and braced himself for the dreaded and all too familiar bruises and bites. Instead, he was met with a single hand slap to the face. "Look, at me boy," he heard the matron say. When he opened his eyes again the matron's arms were both down at her side. "You will work among the goblin slaves in the kitchen for three cycles of Narbondel. There you will see how privileged you really are. See to it, Genevee."
"Yes, Matron," Genevee answered.
"That's it?!" Drisinil gasped.
"Guards!" Hesken-P'aj announced. The two heavily armed guards who had retreated to the entrance of the library immediately began marching over to them.
"You obviously needed a lesson in humility. I think it rather poetic that you receive it from your own," Hesken-P'aj explained, holding the whip. "Take her to the dungeon. If she becomes at all uncooperative, kill her," Hesken-P'aj ordered the guards. The two soldiers masked their total shock as best they could. Drisinil's jaw, however, fell open like a dwarven treasure chest. Hesken-P'aj smiled evilly at her astounded daughter. "Raising the dead is not a trivial endeavor, but I have done it before." Drisinil, no longer doubting the sincerity of her mother, fell in line with the guards as they led her out, traumatized and staring blankly.
There was an awkward silence in the library for a moment after Drisinil had left. Hesken-P'aj finally broke it. "This little reunion is over, we all have work to do."
"How long will she be locked away," Genevee asked.
"That is not for you to concern yourself with, but know this," Hesken-P'aj announced to the room. "Drisinil, my firstborn surviving daughter, is still to succeed me. When and if she is released, you will give her the proper respect and will not speak of this incident. Dureen," she ordered, addressing her second born.
"Matron," Dureen passively replied. Hesken-P'aj suddenly took on a pained expression.
"I will be along shortly, I... I have a headache."
"Do you need assistance," Dureen rushed to respond.
"No," the matron snapped as she turned to exit. Drevek and Genevee nodded as their matron slowly trudged passed them, obviously experiencing her advanced age again now that the excitement had passed.
"Jarl'ell," Dureen addressed the young prince and apparent hero of the day. Jarl'ell cautiously approached his tall, capricious aunt, all the while staring at the ground dutifully. To his surprise, she actually knelt down to his level and seductively caressed the side of his face.
"You must come visit me while your mother is away. You have become my favorite nephew," she warmly spoke, smiling widely. Unused to such friendly treatment from his admittedly pretty but volatile aunt, Jarl'ell hesitantly smiled back.
"I will, if you wish it," he replied, thinking it unwise to remind her that he was her only nephew.
"Jarl'ell," Tanj'ee called aloud, standing next to the still kneeling Dureen, who continued to coo him as he looked up towards his rarely seen and even more feared aunt. "Give me one of your mother's braids and I swear you will graduate the top of your academy class," Tanj'ee put bluntly, apparently unable to sound friendly even when trying.
"I do not have any of it. I gave it all to..." Jarl'ell remorsefully gestured towards the lone wizard in the library with them. Tanj'ee immediately turned to Jrevek and growled. Drevek flashed her a cocky smile
"Some spell components are nearly impossible to come by," Jrevek casually explained.
Dureen frowned and stood up again as Tanj'ee immediately assumed her malevolent Mistress Symryvvin persona. "You would be wise to reconsider-"
"This is not the academy. Save your blustering for somebody that you can intimidate," Drevek loudly snapped. "The enchantments that hair will allow me to create will greatly benefit all of our efforts. What would you do, decorate your scepter with it?"
Tanj'ee threw her scepter aside and lunged towards her wizard brother. "I could have your tongue for such insolence, though our matron might frown on it."
"Tanj'ee let him keep it," Dureen interrupted from behind. Tanj'ee stopped and spun around.
"You take his side?! You actually believe him?!" Tanj'ee shouted angrily.
"Of course! Our brother is quite trustworthy; I am certain he has only the best interests of our house in mind," Dureen jovially replied, to Drevek's swaggering approval. Tanj'ee was completely incensed. However, before she could argue further Dureen continued. "He would never be so foolish as to use it to track the priestesses of this house, which Hesken-P'aj will certainly expect." Drevek's smirk disappeared as Dureen's voice took on an increasingly strenuous tone. "In fact I am sure that our brother has every intention of disclosing this minor treasure to Zraketh and the others. Though I will be only happy to point it out to them should it slip his mind," Dureen jeered. Tanj'ee's fury rapidly transformed into a similar delighted cockiness as it was now Drevek who was enraged, and quite helpless.
"One braid, the smaller," he bitterly conceded.
"The larger!" Tanj'ee snapped. "And do not even think of altering it in any way!" Dureen, nearly matching her sister's height and build more than ever appeared as Tanj'ee's twin, despite their contrasting dress and their well known mutual hatred. At that moment, Drevek fully realized his miscalculation. Whatever the level of that hatred is insignificant compared to the deeply ingrained enmity between the priestess and wizard, that is the female and male, factions within the house. A face off that he, or any of his brothers, would never win.
"Very well," Jrevek quietly responded before bowing insincerely and exiting. As soon as the wizard was gone Tanj'ee turned her attention to her youngest sister.
"Vrinma," Tanj'ee barked. "We have much to talk about. I will meet with you in the chapel in one hour." Vrinma recognized the delay as an intentional opportunity to clean herself up from Drisinil's beating. Masking any hint of gratitude, Vrinma replied.
"I look forward to it."
Tanj'ee nodded, then abruptly turned and strode towards the exit, retrieving her scepter in the most dignified way possible. I must learn not to throw this, she thought as she left the room. Dureen promptly turned to follow.
"We should talk,"> she called out. A startled, yet strangely calm Tanj'ee waited for her sister to catch up before both exited the room together.
Dumbfounded by the sight of these two sisters actually exiting a room together, Genevee spoke down at her nephew. "Lloth occasionally ordains priests. You might consider that calling. Getting those two to talk is nothing short of miraculous."
"Your action nearly got me killed," Vrinma said tersely. Confused, yet confident, Jarl'ell shrugged as he replied.
"Yet you live." Vrinma moved in towards him. Jarl'ell instinctively cringed. However, he was surprised to find himself tightly embraced by his aunt, punctuated by a kiss on the cheek.
"I shall not forget this," she kindly spoke into his ear before quickly releasing the youth and exiting the library, brimming with pride.
Warm feelings Jarl'ell had never felt before welled up within him, confusing him more than anything. Up until then physical contact with other drow had been in the form of being prodded along at best, but most often punishment. He was vaguely aware that Vrinma would be going away for a long time. He now realized that he was going to miss her. "Auntie Vrinma," Jarl'ell whispered to himself, replaying that strange embrace over and over again in his mind. Genevee's shrill voice jolted him back to the present.
"Had it been any other priestess you would be dead right now," Genevee snapped. Having learned much about the pecking order in the last few hours, Jarl'ell looked up to his aunt submissively and responded.
"As it should be." Genevee stared down hard at her young nephew. His sad, innocent gaze slowly lowered to his feat.
"You are learning. Good. Remember that as you wash dishes with the slaves. Come on," Genevee grabbed Jarl'ell by the back of the neck and herded him towards the exit. Jarl'ell used every ounce of self control to restrain his laughter. Genevee was not the mind reader of her sisters, and was as sharp as marble.
***
The three days in the kitchen went by rather quickly for Jarl'ell. Terrified of Jarl'ell's mother, the orc overseer gave him only the easiest cleaning duties and ordered every other slave to stay out of the drow prince's way. Once his "punishment" was completed, Dureen promptly commandeered him for her own while Drisinil was still locked away, performing whatever penance Hesken-P'aj had in store for her. Determined to exert as much influence as she could over the boy, Dureen pampered him with light chores in formerly off-limits areas of the house as well as dozens of unflattering stories of Drisinil's past, all the while keeping him from Genevee and Vrinma. Jarl'ell greatly enjoyed this refreshing break from his mother's brutal treatment. And he certainly did not miss his thuggish aunt Genevee. Nevertheless he was sorry not to have been able to see Vrinma again, other than briefly when the family commemorated her leaving for the academy (a gathering where Drisinil had been conspicuously absent).
While Dureen had assured him that his Matron's punishment would be final, he looked to Drisinil's return with dread. On that day, he had been studying in his quarters when he suddenly detected movement nearby. He looked up to see his mother standing in the doorway. However, it was his mother as he had never seen her before. Her hair was thick and full, ornately braided and hanging down well below her neck whereas before it had been thin, stringy and shoulder-length. And she wore a modest evening gown rather than the stark priestess robes he had only ever seen her in. Her face was softer, her frown much less pronounced, making her look a century younger. She was also carrying a large dagger.
"Mother!" Jarl'ell cried as he jumped to his feat. Drisinil's remained expressionless as she loomed in towards his bench. Jarl'ell was instantly paralyzed with fear, seeing his executioner approach. By the time she reached him tears were flowing from his eyes and he was trembling violently. Ignoring his fear she set the dagger on his bench, next to the large tome he should not have had in his room.
"Calm your fears, son. Matron Hesken-P'aj has set your punishment. I will not add to it," Drisinil spoke calmly. Relief and surprise swept over the young drow. Never before had she referred to him as 'son'. He then glanced down at the dagger and recognized it as the one Drevek had loaned him, except that it glowed far less. "A gift from Drevek. Though, I had him remove much of the enchantment. It had been sharp enough to slice off my head if you had been less careful. I think Drevek was disappointed." She was speaking to him as if he were somehow a peer. Another first. "He says you show potential, and wishes to continue your tutelage. I agree with him."
Jarl'ell was uncertain how to take all this in. "Your hair... you look lovely, mother," was all he could think to say.
Drisinil hid her gratitude at the flattery, however it was difficult. More than four hundred years old, for the first time in her life she actually did not despise the sight of her own reflection in the mirror. "Vrinma used very little of the hair growth salve, and she wisely chose to share it. The hair that magically grew was much thicker than my own. It made little sense to leave it all so mismatched. I even let Dureen shave off the other side." Drisinil chuckled at the recent memory of the look on Dureen's face when she had asked her to do so. She had never seen that one so confused. "I suppose I have you to thank for it."
Jarl'ell was more than confused now. He was worried. This was the kindest she had ever been to him, but now was a prime opportunity to say the wrong thing and set her off. Before he could think of a response she had glanced down at what he had been studying. "Lil colbauth del Lloth. One of our most sacred texts. Care to explain what it is doing here?" Drisinil asked, her voice sounding a bit cross. Fear again swept over Jarl'ell as he attempted to explain.
"I... It was... Dureen had me..."
"I asked for an explanation, not a confession," Drisinil clarified calmly. Jarl'ell paused a moment to regain his composure.
"Dureen told me to learn it. She told me to read it in here, in private, away from Genevee and Vrinma," Jarl'ell cautiously explained.
Drisinil frowned. "She has kept you to herself, I see. Well your days under her care are over."
"Yes mother," Jarl'ell responded, hiding his disappointment. Drisinil took note of how much of the text he had read.
"Are you comprehending it?" she asked.
"I think so." Jarl'ell answered eagerly.
"Tell me how you view our laws regarding house advancement." Drisinil put to him. Jarl'ell seemed confused by the mere fact that she asked an opinion of him, any opinion of him, let alone something so fundamental to their society. "Go ahead, tell me. There is no wrong answer so long as it is truthful."
"I think they make sense. There is no innocence if each house attains rank through the destruction of others. If one house attacks another, it is nobody's business except those two houses. If after an attack there were not at least one defeated house, and not more than one victor house, there would be confusion," Jarl'ell boldly reasoned. "There should never be confusion where house rank is concerned."
Drisinil was completely taken aback by the razor sharp logic of that reasoning. She had studied that text exhaustively in her youth and knew it to be filled with flowery "failure is an affront to Lloth" and "And Lloth decreed" and such type language. The fact that a male child could sift to the truth of the law so quickly was astonishing. He is very promising. I will waste no more years of this child's life, she thought to herself. "A very pragmatic analysis, and nearly accurate. But the truth is that it is our business when any house attacks another, as well as anything else that takes place within this cavern." Jarl'ell appeared puzzled. Drisinil went on.
"Someday you will learn the how long ago, Lloth charged our house with the task of keeping the history of our city, as well as removing ourselves from it. So long as we are faithful to this task we will forever occupy the rather low noble rank of eighteen, but with subtle influence over every soul in this city, and I dare count our first Matron Baenre among them for I have heard our own Matron make this claim." Drisinil reached out and gently ran a finger across Jarl'ell's forehead and behind each ear, parting his shoulder length hair and neatly tucking it as she spoke. He trembled a bit, but was otherwise completely mesmerized. "That order exists within our house as well. In any other house, the death of a matron is usually followed by one or more of her daughters until a successor wins out. I am fortunately exempt from that... or at least I thought." Drisinil turned around and shuddered with disgust. After shaking away the thoughts of self hatred which she was only beginning to learn to dismiss, she turned again to face her son, who remained firmly standing at attention.
"But your action showed me how much I had overestimated my sisters' loyalty to that order and their tolerance of me. It took your act of suicidal defiance to make me see that." An edge had crept back into her voice. Jarl'ell started to answer, but quickly recognized that his response was not solicited. "That action, though you surely did not mean it to, most likely save my life and possibly the future of our house." Jarl'ell could not believe what he was hearing. He was receiving praise for an act that he thought he was about to die for only moments ago. Looking to the side, Drisinil then reached up and stroked the lower locks of her own hair. "And because of it I am no longer so ugly," she quietly admitted.
"You were never ugly, mother," Jarl'ell quickly defended. Drisinil looked back at him quite sternly.
"You are lying. Do not ever lie to me," she growled.
"I am sorry, mother. You were," Jarl'ell hastily replied. Drisinil's eyes flew wide open as Jarl'ell realized what he had just said to his mother's face. Panicking and nearly falling over, he began stuttering. "That came out wrong... I did not mean-" He cut short his hurried attempt to clarify himself when Drisinil began laughing hysterically.
"You must measure your words a little more closely if you wish to keep your tongue," Drisinil pointed out once she had regained her composure. Calmed again, Jarl'ell began to smile slowly. How he so much preferred his mother this way! "I have decided that you will no longer serve the house as a page prince. From this point forward your time will be spent training, in the arena, with Drevek, and in the library. You enter the academy in a mere eight years, which I promise you will go by faster than you think." Jarl'ell's face lit up with joy at the proclamation. But before he could get too excited Drisinil leaned into him and grabbed him by the shoulders.
"But I warn you. Do not mistake my forgiveness of this misdeed as license to carry out more. Lloth has no use for mischievous little boys that get caught, and neither do I. If you know what is good for you, you will not brag of it or even speak of it to anyone. Understand?" Drisinil's sharp rebuke instantly reminded the boy of who he was dealing with. Jarl'ell stiffened again and looked at Drisinil straight in the eyes.
"Yes, mother."
"Good," Drisinil dispassionately replied. But as she relaxed her grip on his shoulders her scowl transformed into a sly smile. "However," she kindly added as she drew her hands up his neck to where she gently encased both sides of his face with her long fingers. "A mischievous little boy who does not get caught and who loves and obeys his mother as he should…" Jarl'ell shivered as Drisinil's fingers lovingly glided about his cheeks and forehead. "…would be very valuable to me, and would be rewarded." Drisinil's wide smile and enticing voice lacked the malicious cruelty that had dominated her demeanor before. Jarl'ell's nervousness ceased as he began to understand the motivation behind his mother's blatant coddling. He could not help but grin. The unabashed wickedness that had scared him stiff for so many years had a very different effect on him when applied to his benefit. "I see you understand," she spoke as she gently dragged a fingertip down the length of his nose. "Do not give my sisters cause to be suspicious. While scrying, they need only think your name and whatever you are up to will be displayed to them like a tapestry," she warned, finally releasing him.
"I believe I know what my role is," Jarl'ell quietly but confidently answered.
Drisinil hid her immense pride as she backed away from him, reassuming the posture of a high priestess of Lloth. "I want you to continue to study the Lil colbauth. It is important to me that you understand it. If you have questions, ask them."
"Thank you, mother," Jarl'ell replied to her back as she neared the entrance of his quarters.
"And see that it is safely returned to the library. That book is older than your Grandmother. If any pages were damaged, I do not need to tell you where she would demand the replacement parchment be obtained from," Drisinil warned before slipping through the doorway.
As he sat back down again Jarl'ell suddenly felt belittled as he contemplated the unnerving thought of his own hide being utilized for literature. However, the more he replayed the entire encounter with his mother, as well as his recent dealings with his other aunts, those feelings of inferiority melted away. For he had occasionally seen Zraketh or his other uncles in the library reading this same text or others like it. "They cannot remove this book, but I can," he happily reasoned. With the marginal exception of Jrevek, his uncles all hated him, treated him like a pest. Yet Vrinma, Dureen, and now Drisinil all appeared to embrace him. "They will really hate me now!" he giddily spoke aloud of his uncles as he began studying the sacred clerical text, determine to exploit this inroad into the family hierarchy he had unknowingly initiated.
|