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Matron Baenre sat on her floating disk overseeing the official removal of House Del'Axle. The rest of the ruling matron mothers were there, including the newest member of the recently promoted eighth house. They had decided that it was a clean elimination and that no trace of evidence remained. While they all praised the perfection of the deed, they all also knew which house had supposedly done it.
No one could believe that the thirteenth house could have taken out the fourth. No one was supposed to know any of the details, but Triel had let a few things slip just to make sure they continued to talk about the strength of Do'Urden and not wonder if they had had any help. The juiciest detail she spread was how many priestesses Zaknafein had killed: twelve, and four of them high priestesses. She wanted to make sure this got around because it would no doubt elevate the Do'Urden fighter to one of the most respected males in the city. Anything to humble Dantrag.
Matron Baenre looked on as the orc slaves cleared away all of the broken remains of what had been the fourth house. House Do'Urden had made sure to remove all the bodies before hand. As the rubble was swept into the Clawrift, a shout from one group of orcs rang out clearly. Baenre quickly floated over to see what the commotion was.
Methil had used his races extraplanar abilities to sink into the stone during the Del'Axle's destruction. Now that it could feel the presence of several matron mothers near by, the mind flayer thought it might be a good time to resurface. It was met by a hoard of orcs. Half of them fled, but the other half raised their pick axes and charged.
Methil sent out wave after wave of psionic blasts that wiped out his attackers. They all stood dumbfounded and drooling, their minds totally fried. Methil then knocked them down with a wave of his hand, hitting them with a kinetic burst of energy. Once they were removed, the mind flayer met eyes with Matron Baenre.
Baenre saw the ease with which the mind flayer disposed of the orcs, and cast her own spell to bring the illithid into submission. Methil felt the tremendous energy right away and fought hard against it, but it was almost too much. No mind flayer had never faced this kind of opponent, and the illithids back in the cavern that were paying attention took careful note of this. Eventually, Methil tipped the scales back to an even level, pushing back the matron mother's will.
In actuality, Baenre had simply let up on her spell, convinced that she could overpower this creature if need be. What are you doing here? Baenre asked, projecting her thoughts mentally.
I was part of the destroyed house. I served Matron Reinela. I now whish to find another house in which I may be of service.
Baenre was not fooled so easily. She knew no member of a race as powerful as the illithids were would eagerly seek out a new master once their old one had been destroyed, and Baenre doubted house Del'Axle had the power to keep a mind flayer against its will. You are studying us.
Methil bowed humbly. I would be honored to serve one as wise as you.
Baenre smiled. You shall have your wish.
***
Zak sat on the edge of his cot with a sword in his hand. It was three days since the destruction of House Del'Axle and the troubled drow had spent most of each night like this. He could not see much reason to continue living. All it would take was a quick motion with his wrist and his fine blade would be sheathed in his heart. It would be quick and it would be final. The only thing he had left to live for was spite. And that emotion was not very enriching.
House Do'Urden had lost most of their soldiers during the fight with the Del'Axles. They had recovered some of them through defections made by the losing side, but it had not made them stronger in that area. They did obtain almost two dozen priestesses which went a long way toward healing the damage done by the poorly executed fight, but their house would suffer for a while.
Zak looked at his sword and shook his head. He would live to see Narbondel's light one more time at least. He decided it would be his penance. It was his punishment for not being strong enough to stand up to the lies of his race directly. He would continue to walk the tight rope of survival, enacting his private vendetta against the Spider Queen when he could, and appeasing the females around him when he must.
Zak rose to put his sword away and froze. Something was not right within the house. He was not sure if it was a noise, a magical presence, or something else entirely, but something was not right. Instead of putting away his weapon, he belted it and its twin to his waist and moved silently out of his small room.
Zak had been given residence within the main Do'Urden structure usually reserved for nobles. House Do'Urden did not have many nobles so there was room. Zak crept carefully up the steps toward the main audience chamber and opened the doors slowly. It was very dark in here. The magical blue glow that Matron Vartha usually maintained was gone, and it took Zak several moments for his eyes to adjust.
Matron Vartha stood in the middle of the room, and Jarl stood next to her. Zak's weapons leaped into his hands. "Step away from her!"
Jarl nodded humbly and stepped away, quickly sheathing his hidden sword. Without Jarl to support her, Vartha toppled over, a massive blood stain covering her back. The murderer looked down at the dead matron mother, back up at Zak, and shrugged.
"You have come to eliminate my house in the dead of night?" Zak accused. "Now who has become Dantrag?"
Jarl shook his head and stepped closer to Zak, removing his hooded cloak. "My grief is with Vartha and Vartha alone. I hold no animosity toward your house."
Zak could see why. Jarl was covered with burns all down the right side of his body, the side that had been facing Vartha when she had blasted him through the Del'Axle wall and into the abyss. How Jarl had managed to remain conscious during the ordeal, much less alive was a mystery to Zak. He also noticed something else very different about the drow that stood before him.
"Nice hair."
Jarl grimaced as he brought his hand up to rub his bald head. "Well, yellow wasn't exactly my color." All of the Del'Axles that house Do'Urden had taken in and a few unlucky Baenre's (including Jarl) had kept their yellow hair, for Matron Vartha's spell had not been temporary. It was reversible, however, and several priestesses had gone to work to return the captured drow's hair color to white.
"Yellow is not your color?" Zak asked, looking at Jarl's modified piwafwi. "Are you sure?"
Jarl had removed any indication from the cloak that it had once marked him as a noble of the fourth house in the city. He had kept the garment because of its magical ability, but he had put his own colorful design into it. Yellow, red, blue, orange, violet, and several other colors streaked down the length of the cloak like a-
"You look like a rainbow," Zak said, remembering the name for the fabulous arc of colorful light they had seen on the surface.
"I remember you said that something as beautiful as a rainbow did not deserve to exist in our homeland. I wish to prove you wrong."
"You are going to be a rainbow in the dark?" Zak asked, skepticism heavy in his voice. The reason why there were no rainbows in the underdark went way beyond the fact they did not have rain. That was minor. The real reason was that they had no light. The literal and symbolic meaning of this hit Zak hard.
"Join me," Jarl said, almost desperate. "Together there is no telling what we could do."
"You want to bring light to the city of Menzoberranzan?"
"Well," Jarl grinned. "As much as they can take."
"Jarl Del'Axle, the 'Giver of Light and Life,'" Zak said mockingly.
Jarl bowed low. "At your service, though I no longer belong to any house, so you can drop the surname."
"Jarl Axle?" Zak questioned.
"Yes," Jarlaxle responded, hearing the name out loud for the first time. "It has a bit of a ring to it."
"Don't you think it is a bit obvious?" Zak asked. "I mean won't Matron Baenre realize who you are?"
Jarlaxle shook his head. "She has already forgotten about me. She has bigger fish to fry now. Besides, I can put on a disguise." He pulled out his ruby red headband and put it on, pulling one half so it was angled on his head, covering up one eye.
"You look ridiculous."
Jarlaxle took off the headband and looked at it. He liked the mind blocking ability and had already found out it did not work unless he wore it on his head. "I'll have to fashion it into a proper eye patch then. And I'll need to get a hat. A big one."
Zak laughed despite himself. He slowly put away his weapons, realizing that there was no longer a threat to his house. Jarlaxle was a survivor, and he understood that it involved more than just breathing.
"Come with me," he asked again.
Zak longed to. He really did, but he knew that he could not. Jarlaxle was a rogue now. He had no house and he had nothing to protect him other than his own cunning. Though that was substantial, it was not comforting to think about. Zak already knew the answer Jarlaxle would give if he invited him to join House Do'Urden. He could see that Jarlaxle was going to enjoy life on his own.
Zak shook his head. "What would we do? Sneak around killing matron mothers and high priestesses? I believe we would get caught."
"Have you no sense of adventure or daring? Where is the drow that wanted to run into the mountains when we were on the surface?"
"That drow has had some sense knocked into him," Zak responded. "A drow is not meant to live alone. No member of any race is. I hate Lloth. You know that, and I know that. I despise everything about drow society and their wretched customs, but within my house I am protected. Because of my house I have been given the ability to kill four high priestesses. I applaud you for your desire to bring light to this dark world, but I choose to do so within the protection and security of my house."
Jarlaxle nodded, understanding and respecting Zak's decision. "Then this is good bye, dear Zaknafein. Whether we me meet again, or not, you shall definitely hear of me. And I have no doubt that I shall hear of you."
Jarlaxle bowed low again, dropping his good arm in front of him, wishing he had something to wave (he really needed to get a hat). He then pivoted sharply on the stone floor, his boots making a loud clicking, and ran off as silent as a whisper, leaping out of a window.
Zak had a smile on his face as he turned about, totally forgetting that his matron mother lay dead on the floor. That reality was acutely reminded to him as he saw Malice - Matron Malice - standing behind him. How long had she been there? How much had she heard?
Zak knew she could hide herself from sight and had little doubt that she had been there the whole time. She had even probably watched Jarlaxle kill Vartha, not lifting a hand to stop it. Malice smiled at Zak's shocked expression. She casually glanced over his shoulder toward the fallen high priestess. "Such a pity."
Zak did not know what to think. He held no love for Vartha and celebrated her death as he would any high priestess of Lloth, but he began to wonder if he had not been safer with her at the head of the house rather than Malice. Zak cast a glance back at the window, wondering if it was too late to take Jarlaxle up on his offer.
"You made the right decision to stay within this house," she said, catching his glance toward the window and understanding its meaning. "We shall be needing your skills in the years to come. Many shall wonder how we were able to take out the fourth house all by ourselves. You will be their answer. They can never question us openly, for to speak of such a thing when it has been carried out to perfection is a grave breach of protocol. No, they will not question us openly, but they will wish to test our strength."
Malice walked about as she continued. "If you truly desire to kill the servants of Lloth, then you made the right choice by staying with your house, for I feel you will get many opportunities in the very near future." Malice looked hard at Zak to see his reaction to her statement. Zak remained stoic. "Oh don't think what you just said to your bald friend went unheard. And don't think it was news to me either. I have had my eyes on you ever since I discovered how ignorant your bitch of a mother was."
Zak stiffened at this, and Malice smiled all the more. "I hear the curses you spit at me as we share a bed and you think I am asleep. I know the reason you did not want to kill the Del'Axle children. I know what you think of our Spider Queen." Malice had thought about arranging a test for Zak where he would be force to kill an unarmed drow. She would have disguised a kobold as a drow elf and force Zak to do battle against it. There was little time or need for it now. There were too many actual drow to kill.
"Normally one such as yourself, if ever there has been one, would find himself strapped to an altar. Perhaps that time will someday come, but I can not deny your skill or your passion for killing high priestesses. That will be too useful to waste now."
Malice looked hard at Zak now. "I will be keeping a close eye on you in the years to come. If you ever bring disfavor on my house I shall kill you so slowly that you might die of old age before the process is completed."
Zak tried to take the threat without flinching, but it was difficult. "As for our house, Vartha is not a big loss. Besides, I am already with child."
Zak's expression changed at this. Was he going to be a father? He remembered fondly the days that he and his mother spent together. Perhaps a child of his would be different. Perhaps his moral disposition would be passed on along with his seed.
Malice saw this change in her prized soldier and was confused at first. Then she understood. "The child is not yours," she said coldly. "That would indeed be a prize, but apparently your seed is not as efficient as your blades."
Zak was confused. Not his? But that meant that Malice was sleeping with someone else. At first Zak was jealous, but that passed very quickly. That was one task that he did not look forward to in the future. If Malice had found someone else within the house that suited her better, Zak was happy.
"Stiu Alnan was injured in the battle and he is getting old. You will replace him as weapon master of this house very soon. First you will spend time as a master at the Academy, the invitation has already come. You will represent our house well and will return as weapon master. You will then see if you can't turn the useless Del'Axle fighters into meaningful soldiers."
Malice had said enough for now, and she turned to leave Zak alone in the room. Zak stood and thought about his suddenly changed life. He thought about pulling out his sword again, but he did not. Instead, he cast one more look at the window though which Jarlaxle had left, shrugged his shoulders, and returned to his room. He had a difficult life ahead of him, and he needed to get some sleep.
The End
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