Keep Thy Enemies Close

[McIan]

It was almost too easy, Jexmir mused as he returned to Umbra to collect from his room at the Inn his few possessions. He was moving into what was called by its creator and owner, Damian Racsen, the “Crystal Palace.” Damian, formerly Scaramandine the Elder, and he had spoken there. Jexmir’s sole reason and purpose was to exact revenge upon Damian for killing his fellow Drow mages. Now he would be working for him… in pretense.

“What is it you do, exactly,” Damian had asked him. “I have no need for enforcers and spies, and little for skilled workers. What sets you apart?”

Jexmir smiled. “Liaison. I know much of the inner workings of our kind, especially of those who recently invaded your domain to seize you and force you to testify in their court proceedings.”

Damian scowled. The memory of those events that led to him nearly dying at their hands was still a sore spot in his mind. He drummed his fingers on the arm rest of the chair he sat upon. “I really do not need to know anything else about them. I have no intention of disturbing their plots and schemes.”

Jexmir looked about at the greenish crystalline walls. The former stone ones, thick as they were, were all gone, all replaced by crystal mined from the fields abundant with them on Malas. He extended upraised palms. “This is beautiful and beautifully done, but can it keep out Drow?”

“I put all my knowledge of fashioning and manipulating crystalline material into it. An army of dragons could not force its way through these walls. They are enchanted as well. I spared no expense nor time reinforcing them with magic-repelling wards and traps. Why then would I be worried about a few Drow?” Damian smugly replied.

“I believe you. But I know they know what you have done here. I also know they are seeking a means to penetrate such defenses.”

“Why would they want to do that? I pose no threat to them anymore.”

Jexmir smiled. “They admire it and wish to copy it to use for themselves. Drow Houses compete as you know. A place defended by such walls would give a decided advantage. You are the author of this. They will be seeking a way in, forcefully or otherwise, likely intending to capture you again for the knowledge. I can be your eyes and ears in their city and keep you apprised of how they progress… and… perhaps, sabotage their plans.”

Damian nodded. “Why do you wish to do this? Why do you care? How do I know you are not working for them?”

“I see you are fast learning the mindset of our kind. I will answer each of your questions. I do this because I hate them. They threw me out of the Academy, Sorcere. I did not fit in because I was too smart for them. I care because I hope to see them defeated. Lastly, you will have to accept the risk that I am working for them, or give me a truth potion. But I assure you they do not even know that I am here with you.”

“A likely story. I will give you that truth potion. If you are lying, I will kill you. This is your last chance to leave peaceably if you are. There is the door,” he said, pointing to it. “Go now, and live.”

Jexmir remained. “I am not lying. Test me.”

True to his word, Damian procured a truth potion, one strong enough that even dark elves could not resist. Its effects were only momentary, but one or two questions posed the right way could determine the veracity of an admission. If he lied, the potion would nauseate and gag him nearly into unconsciousness. If he spoke truth, it did nothing. Jexmir drank it.

“Are you here at the direction and behest of other Drow?” Damian asked him.

“No.” Jexmir stated confidently.

“Are you here to learn the secrets of my castle, or another way inside?”

“No.”

“Do you intend to work me harm?”

“No.”

The effects dissipated. Damian was satisfied. “Get your things. You may quarter in the room upstairs. Throw someone else out if you need to. Welcome to my home,” he said, smiling.

Retrieving his belongings from Umbra, he returned to the castle and was allowed inside.

Ah. Selecting proper words is important in these things. You see, I have no intention to harm you, master Damian. Far from it. I merely intend to study you, learn from you, and then kill you.

 

[McIan]

Turning the Tables

The summons came at last. The woman, whose name was never spoken by anyone except by him to her face, served faithfully as the Elder’s keenest spy, scout, liaison, and assassin, arrived at the appointed place of meeting: the top floor of the building known as Castlemare, the Elder’s prison ward. Sitting on a velvet-seated throne made of polished bone, he sat, flanked by enormous twin revolving worlds of Sosaria under the gaze of twin gargoyle statues. Three stone chairs made of obsidian faced him, centered upon arcane circles of varying colors, each designated for one of his highest advisors and enforcers. She stood before him, head bowed low, her face covered by the deep cowling of the charcoal gray shroud of Umbra she wore.

“Greetings. It is good to see you again,” he saluted. “You may be seated.”

She returned the greeting and shortly sat down in her chair. She kept her eyes averted from him.

“What have you to report?” he asked.

She told him of his son, Scar’s, wife who came one night recently, banging on the front door pleading for him to come and aid his son; that his son appeared, that there was a brief, possibly heated, exchange, and they parted company. Shortly thereafter a man she described in detail appeared momentarily and then entered Scar’s home, staying for some time.

“Yes, I was told of this by one of the guards. I was away on business. You described Chanticleer Reich, the governor of Trinsic,” he explained. “He is a do-gooder whose ways are not entirely unlike my own,” he ventured. “Apparently my son was in some kind of trouble and she called him to help. It appears all is well now, except there may be some friction between my son and his wife.”

The woman nodded, waiting patiently.

“I have a new task for you.”

She expressed eagerness to attend it.

“There is someone new to my home, a dark elf, named Jexmir, if that is really his name. He claims to be an outcast from his mage school, Sorcere, and is seeking revenge on them. He has warned me that they seek to discover the secrets to my skill and knowledge of crystalline craftwork; that which I used to rebuild my castle to protect it from any future intrusions. He said he could be my eyes and ears in that city, perhaps even sabotaging their plans,” he stated, hesitating momentarily to allow her to process the information.

“He is lying. He thinks me a fool so I let him believe it. Find out who he is and what are his intentions. Find my friend in Targrancimon, the Drow city where I nearly died. You know of him: Dharzhal T’Ar. Question him about this man. Do not threaten him, however. Of all the dark elves I know, he is the only one who can be trusted to keep faith with me, having any integrity at all. Learn what you can about him and bring that information to me. Afterwards, follow this Jexmir to keep watch on him. Be careful. He is very skilled in the stealth ways of the Drow, and he is very cagey. He will expect to be watched and followed, so fear not any discovery; only do not let him follow you.”

The woman nodded and affirmed her devotion to him and the mission.

“Leave at once for the city. Be careful inside it. When you find Dharzhal, give him this orb of speaking and tell him it is for use with him alone. He knows I will not lie to him and will take it. I have its companion. We will be able to communicate directly from then on,” he said, extending his left hand which held a fist-sized pearl-colored sphere within which swirled a bluish mist.

She rose from her seat and took it with both hands, keeping her gaze lowered.

“You may go now. You have yet to fail me. I know you will not now.”

 

[McIan]

The orb began to glow with a throbbing azure gleam. Damian was waiting nearby, seated, as he had for the last few hours, having calculated when it might be that his counterpart, using the other orb, might seek contact. He waved his hand over it quickly and awaited the voice he expected to hear.

“Aluve, master Damian,” came a voice, but no face appeared in the orb. “I who speak am Dharzhal T’Ar. Your courier made contact with me and I have done as I was bidden.”

“Aluve, prince Dharzhal. It is good to hear your voice again. I trust you do well?”

“I do. Things have calmed as much as can be expected in a Drow city. Sorcere has been repaired and refurbished. Progress toward full restoration is in the making.”

“Very good,” Damian remarked. “May I assume my servant indicated the necessity for our direct communication?”

“Yes. I can explain anything you want to know.”

“Tell me of Jexmir. He is now residing here, though he is not nearby.”

“Jexmir harbors you ill will for the incident. He will try to kill you if he can. Do not underestimate him. He has a prescience when it comes to personal danger. He will take many precautions.”

“I should kill him first then.”

“For my sake, please do not. Take him alive. Let me speak with him by this means. He is, like you, a friend of mine, an ally who saved me from certain death. I would not repay his kindness by seeing him destroyed.”

“I will do this for your sake only. I can capture him and hold him until that discussion can be arranged. However, if he tries to escape or kill me, I cannot say what will happen to him then. If he is as skilled as you say, he could be a dangerous adversary, and I have many enemies who might profit from his knowledge and expertise.”

“Understood. Let it be a last resort. I think I can redirect his anger and get him home, here, again.”

“There is another thing. He claimed that Drow in your city are conspiring to kidnap me again, to wrench my knowledge of Crystallography from me to use it for their own buildings. Is any of that true?”

“I cannot say one way or the other about that. I have heard nothing personally. However, if one Drow can imagine it, others can, and will. You would be wise to assume it is a future danger even if it is not a present one.”

“Agreed. I have thought the same thing. Thank you for your assistance. I will call upon you when I have him in custody, or have been forced to end his life. Let us hope it is the former.”

“Indeed. I will be ready. I fully believe I can convince him to return home.”

“I pray that you can. Fare thee well.”

“Vendui, Lord Damian.”

“Vendui, Prince Dharzhal.”

The conversation ended, the orb’s glow dissipated, returning to its image of hazy mist.

He motioned to Kelvearn, his new Drow counselor and apprentice, standing nearby, and gave him orders. “Take whomever you need and subdue our guest. Take him to Castlemare for incarceration. Guard him with your life. Do not kill nor torture him. I will ensure his docility as I did yours if I must.”

Kelvearn smiled, baring his twin white fangs. Bowing briefly, he went to fulfill his master’s wishes.