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Bemere and Kaylie worked their way to the bottom of the valley. There was a trumpeting from above them and Bemere looked up to see a large shape circling high above them.
“He’s laughing at me,” Kaylie said.
“Because you’re walking?”
The human woman snorted as the trumpeting laughter echoed again. “It’s a long .”
“I understand completely,” Bemere assured her.
The gryphon soared ahead of them, disappearing behind one of the ridges.
“Part of my reading lately has been the tales of the ancient serah,” Kaylie said. “May I ask which of the immortal lineages you belong to? If you are willing to discuss it, of course.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but the Plenilune don’t have any. Rather, our serah are elected by their peers. It’s not a very interesting , I’m afraid. When did you become a Cloud Ghost?”
“At the end of this past ShortSun. At first, I was a crofter’s daughter, then an unwilling recruit for my laird’s recent expedition. He’s the one they call Mad MacGregor.”
Bemere glanced at her. “I recently heard tales of an army…”
“If these tales ended very badly, that was probably us,” Kaylie said, her tone oddly cheerful. “But that’s not a very interesting , I’m afraid.”
Bemere’s laughter caught the attention of a pair of Plaflakhi. They had been studying the armor of one of the fallen but straightened up and moved to meet them. As they approached, Bemere saw that it was a male and female. They were close to twice her size, with bodies that looked far bulkier and muscular. Instead of the armored plates of the earlier warriors, these two were wearing only the padded gambesons worn under such armor. And instead of weapons, there were what looked like armored books on their belts.
“I see you, Cloud Ghost Witness,” the bluish skinned man rumbled.
“I see you, Champion of Law” Kaylie answered. “Shall I bare my neck?”
“While I would view it with appreciation, there is no need,” he chuckled with a sound like stones falling into a barrel. “We were there when you swore the Witness oath.
“You wear the patterns of an envoy,” the other Plaflakhi said to Bemere. “I would bid you a proper welcome, but your colors are unfamiliar.”
She bowed slightly to the imposing woman towering over her. “I am an envoy of the Selenic Court and the Eye of our Lady of Grace.”
Both giants studied her, fascinated.
“An actual Plenilune Fae,” the male said. “Your presence here is a surprise and is most welcome. If you’d allow us the honor, we will accompany you.”
“Thank you,” Kaylie said, relief in her voice. “Being an armed human woman is likely to be…complicated just now.”
There were more deep chuckles and the four of them walked toward the mouth of a cave. A stone archway had been carved into the rock and several more Plaflakhi were standing watch around the captured humans. Their packs of Lesser Spiderkin prowled between the clusters of prisoners and Bemere noticed that the female soldiers had been separated out into their own group.
“As you see, the dross can only bring greater glory to the shining gem,” the male said as they passed under the arch.
Kaylie gave him an odd look and the female Plaflakhi laughed.
“Donag and I are both quite taken with your flamecolor hair,” she told Kaylie. “I am named Gruni and we serve the mother as knowledge finders.”
“It is Gruni that is taken with the coppery perfection of your hair,” Donag said. “As I said, I admire the curve of your neck and shoulder.”
Bemere kept her face blank, but she hadn’t been expecting this kind of familiarity. Everything she’d read and heard of the Plaflakhi had painted them as somber denizens of the far deeps, cheerless and cold. But these two sounded almost…flirtatious.
The cave was a large chamber, roughly oblong. There were three tunnels leading in different directions and a group of prisoners was just disappearing down the largest passage as they entered. In the middle of the chamber, a plinth of the living rock had been carved smooth and a figure was sitting crosslegged on a large cushion, wax tablets scattered around him.
He looked up and Bemere was briefly surprised. First she had the thought that she’d somehow run into one of her own people, although she’d never met anyone with pale eyes like his. In return, his eyes first widened in surprise and then narrowed. He stood, and his hair, the same Ravenblack as her own, and captured in a multitude of ornamented braids, jingled faintly as fanned out over his shoulders. It revealed ears as pointed as her own, but he looked less Plenilune now, taller and thinner with skin far lighter than her own.
“And what is this?” He hissed. “A follower of the whore queen?”
“I am Plenilune,” Bemere said, realizing what he was.
“I am not surprised. Are there more of you Moon sluts coming, or were you the only camp follower?”
Beside her, Kaylie looked worried. Above them, the large pair of Plafakhi stared at enraged figure in amazement. Even a group of Plaflakhi warriors that was emerging from below stopped and gaped at the furious elf in astonishment as he shrieked and raved.
“Reader, have you gone mad?” Gruni asked. “Or are you blinded? That is the coat of a royal envoy!”
“Royal? Royal? They have no queen, just a succession of slatternly gashes. Yes, yes, I see the pattern but that is only a Plenilune spy. They are so in love with that human filth, ask it how many of them it spread its legs for! She can answer on her way to the cells!”
“I fear your diagnosis is correct, Gruni,” one of the warriors rumbled. “An unfortunate time for one of the Reader’s fits. You are taking the Witness and this envoy to the matriarch?”
“Indeed,” the Plaflakhi woman said.
“Donag, can you spare a moment to explain all of this excitement?”
“I’ll meet you back here,” Donag said to Gruni and she thumped his shoulder before leading them to large tunnel. Behind them, they could hear the angry elf sputtering. Kaylie stayed at Bemere’s side as they started down the gently sloping passage. Gruni led the way down in embarrassed silence.
Bemere looked around curiously as they descended lower. The floor, walls, and ceiling were a light grey, formed out of a seamless whole that had a slight sheen, resembling fired clay more than anything else. The ceiling arched high overhead, allowing the Plaflakhi to walk comfortably upright. It was brighter than she’d imagined it would be, and a slight breeze blew against their faces with hints of a scent she’d never encountered before, spicy and sweet.
“He is the Reader of Law, and an advisor for the old queen,” Gruni finally said. “I beg your forgiveness. His grief has made him rather erratic lately.”
“Please don’t worry over it,” Bemere said. “I’ve never met one of the Aphostic Fae before, I didn’t realize they were still so upset about the shared hi between our people.”
“War?” Kaylie asked.
Bemere chuckled. “Quite the opposite. The Selenic Grace of the time was discovered to be having an affair with her lord’s cousin, if I remember correctly. He had supporters in the court that protested the betrayal, protests turned to anger, and they abandoned the homelands soon after.”
“It was that much of a scandal?” Kaylie asked.
Bemere shrugged. “I don’t see why it would be. Neither her lord, nor his cousin, were part of the protests and as I remember, both remained in her court after the departure. Though, now that I am recalling the , it may have been a cousin of the Selenic Grace. Even among the fae, this is the distant past and would probably have been forgotten long ago, if the incident hadn’t been the creation of the Aphostic.”
“He has an oddly…passionate view of hi,” Kaylie said.
“Indeed. Imagine if you were angry about Halia Ghan’s choice of mistresses.”
“I don’t even know who Halia Ghan is,” Kaylie said and Gruni chuckled.
“You illustrate my point perfectly,” Bemere said. “He was the first ruler of what became the Grassland Empire.”
The tunnel ended, opening out into a larger space and Bemere gaped in wonder as she saw the Understone for the first time. They had emerged into an immense space carved out beneath the mountains. The stone glowed with a dim reddish light, revealing that the far side wall was at least a bowshot wide away. One either side, the gallery stretched further than she could see and in the dim red glow above them, splashes of brighter lights marked terraces and balconies carved into the walls. They stretched as far as she could see, almost like the night sky, somewhere far above.
Finally, Bemere noticed that Gruni and Kaylie had stopped and were waiting for her.
“Apologies,” she said, catching up. “That is an amazing sight.”
Gruni looked around as they walked. “It is my home and quite beautiful, but I will say that it is modest compared to the great burrows to our north.”
“If you are ever able, go to see the Night Father’s Portal,” Kaylie said.
“That is truly stupendous,” Gruni agreed.
There was movement on the walls around them and Bemere looked closer to see collections of Gnomes working at some task or another. As they walked along, there were whistles of greeting that Gruni answered with a deep thrumming sound. There was high pitched laughter in reply.
Beside them, a constant flow of wide wagons rolled along, pulled by Lesser Spiderkin, under the close eyes of gnomish teamsters. Through the long procession, Greater Spiderkin moved quickly around and through the rumbling carts, chittering back and forth with the Gnomish teamsters.
The Greater Spiderkin only superficially resembled their Lesser cousins. These were two or three times as large, and where the Lessers somewhat resembled a sixlegged wolf, the form of the Greater Spiderkin was closer to an actual spider. Their wide lower bodies were propelled by eight muscular limbs and where a true spider’s mouthparts would have been, a torso with head and shoulders, as well as two more arms, emerged. There were myths of centaurs, people who were half horse, half human and the Greater Spiderkin reminded her of those book pictures, albeit with more limbs and far more menacing.
They turned down another passage, leaving the busy throng behind them. In the sudden quiet, Bemere heard a faint susurration from all around her and looked around again.
“That’s the burrow’s Think,” Kaylie said. “All the sounds and voices from the rooms and passages all around us, mixed together as it echoes through all the passages.”
“That is the oddest thing about the bright lands,” Gruni said. “I cannot imagine life without the Think. How else can life be guided properly?”
They walked along until they reached a canal. A richly appointed barge was waiting for them, Aphostic elves were in the bow and stern, holding it in place with long poles. They stepped aboard and sat on low couches. The poles pushed the barge away from the pier and into the current. Once they had entered the flow, the bargemen had little to do, beyond occasionally nudging the craft one way or another to keep it on course.
After roughly half an hour, the barge was poled out of the current and came to rest against another dock with barely a thump. The arch in front of them was much grander than anything else Bemere had seen, figures and scenes carved into the stone from floor to peak and back down again.
Waiting for them was another Aphostic elf. Like the one in the entry portal, she could have been a cousin of Bemere’s, although the color of her eyes would have been considered uncanny in the homelands. Her enticing beauty was made even stronger by her clothing; a gauzy white bandeau skirt wrapped around her waist with a strip of the same translucent cloth wrapped around her breasts. She didn’t wear jewelry but had an intricate tattoo that curled around her left collarbone before disappearing under the gauze wrapped around her chest.
“Mistress Anniak, I’m glad we’re not too late,” the Plaflakhi woman said. “I am bringing you a surprise from the roof. Do please notice that she’s an envoy before you speak.”
“Am I now a barbarian?” The ravenhaired beauty teased. “I can read heraldry you know.”
Gruni’s voice stayed serious. “And you’ll remember our honored Witness, from the Cloud Ghosts?”
“I only cast the glyphs at the swearing ceremony, sweetest. What has gone wrong, that you are asking these things?”
“Then you weren’t aware that the Reader was at the Hawseward gate? He was the one to greet our Plenilune guest and his behavior was…alarming.”
“Great Father of Darkness,” the woman murmured. She turned to face Bemere and bowed gracefully, nearly touching her forehead to her knees. “Honored guest, I beg you, on behalf of my Lady, to allow me a chance to redress for whatever offense was offered. He serves as the Reader of Law and should not have been the one to greet you.”
“I wouldn’t dream of holding either of you responsible,” Bemere said, trying hard to keep a flirtatious tone out of her voice. Since the excitement of battle had been fading, her lust had been steadily building and the courtier made it sing even more strongly. Bemere dug her fingernails into her palms, struggling to push it back down so she could concentrate.
The woman straightened, smiling slightly. “You are most gracious, serah. Do you carry a sigil?”
Bemere offered the silver brooch from her collar and the other elf took it and examined it. Her eyebrows went up for a moment as she interacted with the latent magic within the identity jewel. Finally, she handed it back and then moved her hands as though she was braiding invisible cords. There was a brief warmth and a glowing glyph formed above Bemere’s head.
“Serah Bemere Abchenel, beloved of the Great Silver Lady, honored one of the Selenic Court, as both honored guest and the physical manifestation of her Selenic Grace, I grant you the right and benefice of our burrow, the protection of our gates, bound only by the respect of the joyfully welcomed guest.”
Bemere bowed slightly in return and the glyph broke into glowing embers that fell around her shoulders as they faded away.
“Gruni, you have my gratitude for escorting the serah. Are you joining us?”
“Not yet. Donag stayed above with the Reader.”
“Then I’ll see you this evening.”
“Yes, you will.” Gruni turned and bowed to Bemere and Kaylie. “Small friends, I enjoyed your company and wish you the festival’s blessing of golden times.”
Kylie and Bemere returned her bow and the Plaflakhi woman went back the direction they’d come.
“Serah Gwyenth was just arriving inside,” Anniak said to Kaylie. “Mistress Kaylie, she asked that you join her before I present Serah Bemere to the matriarch.”
“I’ll leave you in Mistress Anniak’s capable hands then,” Kaylie said. “This passage leads to the chambers?”
“The passage on your left will be a shorter path, Honored Witness. I’ll take the longer route with the serah and we will walk slowly.”
Kaylie nodded to Bemere before hurrying down the indicated hallway. Anniak motioned to Bemere and they continued down the ornate passage. As she followed the Aphostic elf, Bemere had to force her attention away from the graceful sway of the woman’s hips. It was both relief and regret when the passage widened enough to allow them to walk sidebyside. As she rehearsed the flowery words of greeting in her mind, there was a loud clatter and the sound of thumping feet ahead of them. Anniak stopped and stepped into one of the small alcoves carved into the stone.
“The guards are changing shifts,” she explained. “We’ll be out their way here.”
In the close confines of the alcove Bemere could smell the woman’s perfume and the spicy scent was maddening. She dug her nails into her palms again, forcing down the urge to take the other woman in her arms. As the noise of the marching clatter got louder, Bemere saw a group of Greater Spiderkin, bristling with armor and weapons march past their alcove. Trying to speak was impossible but the noise quickly faded away as they entered one of the passages. She looked back and saw that Anniak was looking closely at her. Bemere didn’t know if it was just her licentious, traitorous imagination, but it appeared that the Aphostic’s nipples had hardened under her chest wrap. With some effort, Bemere locked her gaze on the woman’s face.
“I believe we can proceed,” Anniak said, stepping back into the passage. “You have come at a joyous time as our matriarch will implant her chikkur soon, the ones you call Greater Spiderkin. Creating the seed of new life is a sacred task and our matriarch is closely surrounded by very protective courtiers. Therefore, when I present you, I ask that you stay beside me rather than going forward to make your manners as you might do normally.”
“I understand, thank you. And I regret that my intrusion has interrupted such an important event. If she is indisposed…”
Anniak smiled. “You are most gracious, but she is eager to speak with you.”
The Matriarchs’ Chamber was at the terminus of the passage. The carved surfaces became more pronounced, and for Bemere, it became uncomfortably suggestive somehow. The ruddy stone had been carved and polished so smooth that it nearly begged to be touched. The surface felt like warm silk under her fingertips. Rounded protrusions that encircled the tunnel had been carved at regular intervals. It gave the feeling of being inside the throat of a great animal. She felt her lower stomach warmly tense at the thought that it might represent a different, far more interesting passage. She caught herself dragging her fingertips over the silky stone and pulled her hand back.
Oh, for…how can architecture possibly be erotic? I will never travel when I’m in season again.
A circular ring of reddish light appeared at the end of the curving tunnel and Anniak led her into an oval chamber shaped into a low dome. Like the walls of the passageways, arches and ribs had been carved into the stone and the entire space shone, as though it were ceramic instead of the reddish stone. In the center, there was a large heap of cushions with a large figure seated in the middle. Spiderkin and Aphostic Fae were gathered around a large figure and she saw Gwyenth and Kaylie there. Bemere saw the High elf say something to the matriarch. Khivu’s courtiers looked curiously at her for a moment before their attention shifted back grooming their matriarch.
Khivu Ataphalis rose to feet, stretching luxuriously. She was larger than any of the other Spiderkin that Bemere had seen so far, almost as large as one of the Plaflakhi. The rear of her body called to mind a sleek hunting arachnid, rather than a one of the more bulbous web spinners. The forepart of her body resembled a bipedal person, from the hips up. The muscular torso was covered by a hauberk made up of fine silver links arranged in circular patterns. It ended at her elbows and Bemere saw that her skin was somewhat darker than the other Spiderkin she’d seen so far. Khivu’s face was dominated by her large eyes, almond shaped and completely black. Her hair was completely white and long, as evidenced by the thick braid hung over her shoulder. Bemere thought she was quite beautiful, if somewhat intimidating.
“Beloved mother, I come with a guest,” Anniak said. “Allow to present Her Grace, Adelobermerlyn Mayarind Abchenel, Eye of Her Selenic Grace, Serah and Champion of the Silver, Addenhai ‘na Terres of the Plenilune lands…”
As she waited for the ridiculous recitations of titles to end, Bemere had to admit that Anniak was better at this than Cal and Madeline’s herald had been. She shied away from the memories of their last night together and forced herself to pay attention.
“Welcome to my burrow, Your Grace,” Khivu Ataphalis said, bowing as gracefully as if it had been a dance.
Bemere bowed in return. “I am deeply honored by your hospitality, Khivu Ataphalis…”
Bemere went through the protracted process of offering the greetings of the Selene, the declarations of eternal goodwill and all the rest.
“I must admit that I do not know most your titles, beyond Serah and Addenhai. But that is enough to know it our deepest honor to meet one the great heroes of legend.”
Bemere bowed low again. “I am only privileged enough to call those companies distant kin, Matriarch. I am familiarly known as Bemere and beg you to do me the honor.”
“That is most kind,” Khivu said, settling back onto her cushions. “Unless you are weary, I would ask you to sit with me for a time. We are not accustomed to such luminaries, and I am not normally so formal. Please call me Khivu and find your comfort.”
Anniak appeared with a large cushion and placed it in front of the matriarch.
“This is my first glimpse of the Understone,” Bemere said. “Your home is spectacular.”
“You are very kind, Serah Bemere. This is the gift of the mothers before me and I will make my own small improvements for my eventual heir. Serah Gwyenth tells me that you observed today’s battle.”
“Yes, I encountered the militia on my journey from Gateman’s Notch and followed them here.”
“This is also what Witness Gwyenth has told me, “the matriarch nodded, settling back to her pile of cushions. The attendants around her returned to what they’d been doing before.
“I requested Witnesses from the High Elves because my interpretation of Law may anger some. I was not aware of the interest of the Moon Elves, no insult was intended.”
“In fact, my presence here is by chance alone…” Bemere went on to explain how she had found the escort and followed the expedition.
“…And I was forced to kill several of your lesser subjects,” she finished. “I deeply regret the harm that I have done.”
Khivu Ataphalis cast a complicated glyph and Bemere felt it form above her before fading away. “This thing is forgiven. We will grieve their loss, but they are creatures of hasty instinct instead of calm consideration, and they were there to do battle. They will be missed but replaced in time.”
Bemere bowed her head. “You are most gracious.”
“I am curious about your . I understand you to say that the imperial riders accompanied these soldiers, but they were not part of this army?”
“That’s correct. By agreement, imperial troops are hired by traveling armies as neutral peacekeepers between soldiers and citizenry. That is why they were beyond their own borders, and why they were very careful to remain inside of the land claimed by humans.”
“All the same, I find their presence worrisome. What action will they take now that their charges have been taken?”
“Once they hear of the defeat, the company will escort the followers, and whatever remains of the army back to the imperial garrison they set out from.”
“Are you certain?” Khivu asked doubtfully. “I’ve received dire warnings about the emperor’s expansionist intentions.”
“Truly? Allow me to set your mind at ease. I have spent much time in the south and know that Justinus Flavius, the current emperor, has forbid any expansion of his borders on pain of death. In fact, he’s been heard to bemoan the fact his predecessors expanded the empire to the current borders.”
“His borders are so vast? Is this why he was not aware that his vassals invaded my land?”
Bemere hid her surprise. “Matriarch, I admit, and apologize for, my ignorance. I am told they came from a city called Cyannous.”
“You have no ignorance to apologize for, that is correct. Is Cyannous not a city belonging to the Grassland Empire?”
Bemere’s eyes flicked to Gwyenth for a moment but the Golden fae was expressionless. Bemere wanted to sigh; her mother, had always warned her that curiosity would lead her nose into a hornet’s hole one day. The woman must have been feeling a mysterious vindication just then because she’d followed her curiosity, and now she had to correct a queen in her own throne room. A hornet’s nest if ever there was one.
“Khivu Ataphalis, I swear upon both Her Selenic Grace, and upon my Green Mother that the citystate of Cyannous is not a member of the Grassland Empire. The city is at least two days travel outside of the imperial borders.”
There was a subtle shift in the atmosphere of the room as the matriarch stirred, legs growing tense. The sense of idle relaxation in the chamber had been replaced with a pregnant tension.
“What’s this?” There was a definite note of steel underneath her velvet tone now.
“The northern border of the Grassland Empire is ten rods past the furthest edge of the Royal Canal,” Bemere said, choosing her words carefully. “It has been agreed on by all of the all of those who share that border. Unless something has changed drastically, Cyannous is at least two day’s travel beyond that point.”
“And how far away is this canal?”
“I have maps in my baggage but…” Bemere started to explain.
Khivu raised a hand to stop her. “An estimate would suffice. How many days did you travel between the imperial border and my gate?”
“On horseback, at least four days,” Bemere said. “On foot it would easily be double that.”
Khivu Ataphalis turned to look at Gwyenth for confirmation.
“I have never been that far south for myself, matriarch,” the High Elf said. “I can attest that their border is a good distance away however.”
Khivu looked back to Bemere and the tension left her legs. Around her, the quiet whispers of the Aphostic courtiers began again.
“Did anyone from Cyannous ever reveal the reason their army was coming north?”
“I was not there, but I am told that agents claimed the expedition was to recover or avenge a merchant caravan that was lost nearby.”
“Merchants?” Khivu spat. “These Humans are without honor and do not follow Law. I will tell you the fate of these monsters and produce a witness to the truth. Mistress Anniak, fetch one of them for us.”
Anniak bowed and disappeared through a doorway.
“They came here hunting for shiny trinkets and stones,” Khivu said bitterly. “My watchers and listeners reported them even before they entered my domain and I was counselled to attack immediately. However, I saw it simply as a new chapter in an old . Humans have tried to come across my border before. They were always defeated by the land and sun. But I was wrong, and I should have heeded the advice. Somehow the Humans found a hidden entrance to my burrow. We knew immediately but it took time to gather our forces together. In the meantime, the Human filth had bashed their way into my nursery chambers and found the nest of my younglings there.”
“Oh, no,” Bemere whispered.
“Ah, you do understand them. The socalled merchants brought only death to trade. They murdered every single one of my chikkur, what you would call Greater Spiderkin. They were small and helpless and could not have harmed those monsters.”
Bemere’s stomach twisted. “This…evil thing…I have no words…” she whispered.
“What words could there be? I found my slaughtered younglings in piles in the corners and niches of their nursery where these Humans had taught my children their last lesson, terror, and death. The Hurzgrafn and my guards were quick to capture the intruders, both those inside the burrow, as well as the ones who waited outside. Until a few days ago, I was considering how the Law would balance this horror. Then I received word that more of the Humans were coming. Now that they have been taken, I have decided my justice.”
Anniak came back into the chamber and bowed low. “Matriarch, your prisoner.”
“Bring it in,” Khivu called.
A hulking Spiderkin warrior appeared in the archway, pushing a Human man along who wore a tattered pair of pants and the remains of a shirt that he clutched around his pale body. The warrior shoved the man to his knees and the man bent low, pressing his face into the stone.
“There are questions you would do well to answer,” Anniak told the human.
He said something, his voice muffled against the floor. The Aphostic Fae sighed and nudged him with the toe of her shoe.
“Sit up, we have no patience for your mumbling.”
“I obey,” the man said, lifting his face from the ground. He sat back on his heels, keeping his arms clutched around him. “I swear to speak nothing but truth.”
Anniak bowed slightly to Bemere, gesturing for her to approach the man.
“What’s your name?” Bemere asked, keeping her tone neutral.
“My name is Aasvid Ronar. I am… I was a sellsword.”
Bemere raised her eyebrow. From the subservient behavior, the whining tone in his voice, she was surprised that the man had ever managed to face danger.
“You were enlisted where?”
“One of the Tulliver’s companies, Lady. The Hornets.”
“I know of your master and I doubt he would allow any company of his to go adventuring, especially beyond the Human lands. So how did you come to be here?”
“It began when we was hired by the Lords’ Privy Council.”
“And who is that?” Bemere asked, her voice growing colder.
“Them merchants what rule the city,” Ronar said, keeping his eyes on the floor.
“And why did they seek a contract?”
“First we was told it were an easy bandit chase, up in the Slope Counties. The imperials would be there to guide us once we came to the Counties. Only there wasn’t nobody waiting. That’s when they told the sergeants there weren’t no legion hired, we was to disguise ourselves as traders.”
“And even though they’d made a false contract, your sergeants agreed to continue on?”
“They told us there was a lot of coin in it, maybe even some godartifacts up in the hills. They was gonna pay us extra to be keeping our lips tight.”
Bemere stepped closer to the man, resisting the urge to plant the toe of her boot in his ribs. “And you stayed with them, knowing you were breaking Soldier’s Law?”
He glared at her, finally showing a little spirt. “And what would you have done in my place, your Elfish Ladyship?”
“Every soldier has the right to walk away from a broken contract.”
“And them that does is gonna have a short life, walking out into the Grassland alone. More than a couple go off and the sergeants will take you for inciting mutiny. They pull their guts out in front of the whole company, I seen it done.”
“Tell me how you found your way in here.”
“There was a Pointy… begging pardon. There was an elf scout what knew about a hidden entrance. He took us there.”
“What was his name?”
The man shrugged. “Went around in a hooded cloak. Never spoke to me but I saw he was Forest Fae.”
“Was he captured?”
The man shook his head. “He weren’t with us when we broke in.”
“Why did you massacre the younglings?”
He bowed his head, hiding his face from her glare. “I know now, it woulda been better to go die clean, out in the long grass, but none of us knew that yet. We was confused, there weren’t no gold to be found. When they broke down that door, someone screamed out that we should kill everything and then…well, it was like a madness come over all of us then. I didn’t even know what we done till them gnomish told me. I ain’t never been that type before.”
Bemere was surprised when he pressed his face to the stone floor and began to weep quietly.
“Serah Bemere?” Anniak asked quietly.
She nodded. “I’ve heard enough.”
Anniak gestured to the large guard and the former mercenary was pulled to his feet. He was half carried from the chamber, head still down and crying. His tears left splatters of moisture that slowly disappeared into the stone.
“I’ve never seen that reaction from a prisoner before,” Bemere said quietly.
“We have not harmed them,” Anniak said. “However, three of them went mad when they were shown the result of their barbarism and many of them react in similarly when they are reminded of the murders.”
Bemere frowned, feeling something wrong with her words but Khivu was waiting.
“You see the truth of it here, Bemere. While you are free to leave at any time, I wonder if you would consider witnessing the justice the law has set forth? I would like the truth of it to be spread far and wide, if only for our own defense.”
Bemere noticed that Gwyenth looked like she was about to say something, but the High elf stayed quiet.
“On behalf of the Selenic Lady, I thank you for this honor,” Bemere said, bowing low.
“Serah, the honor is ours,” Khivu said, smiling. “Anniak will give you a mark that will allow to go anywhere within the burrow. I will hold the burrow’s court soon, I will look forward to your company then.”
Bemere bowed low and got up from her cushion. Anniak guided her back through the door, followed by Kaylie and Gwyenth. Behind them, the susurration grew louder again. Bemere thought she detected an erotic tone and knew that her body was betraying her once more. She dug her nails into her palms again, putting the discomfort between her mind and the temptation to linger.
The vow of the Witness was simple enough; to relay the whole truth as she saw it. It was rather reminiscent of the vow she’d taken as an Eye. When she’d finished, Anniak cast another glyph over her head.
“There is just one more thing. Down here, eyes are often not enough for the surroundings and I will mark you with a scent that allows you passage anywhere in our burrow. Do you consent?”
Gwyenth was standing nearby and nodded slightly when Bemere glanced at her.
“Just over here, serah,” Anniak said. “It will only take a moment or two.”
Bemere went and sat on a stool that the woman indicated.
“I will use a quill to mark a sigil on your skin,” Anniak said, taking a stone jar from an alcove. “The smell is quite bitter, I recommend placing it on the back of your neck so it does not bother you.”
Bemere nodded and started to pull her hair out of the way but Anniak put her hand on Bemere’s shoulder.
“Allow me,” she murmured. The courtier gently gathered Bemere’s heavy, ravenblack hair aside and laid it on her shoulder. “And your collar?”
Bemere nodded again, untying the top of her shirt. The Dark elf rolled it down carefully, her fingers lightly grazing Bemere’s skin.
“My nose tells me that you are ready for life’s gift,” Anniak said quietly. “You smell wonderful.”
“Uhm…my thanks,” Bemere said, her mind full of the sensation of the light touches on her skin. The light scratch of the quill was almost ticklish, making it difficult to sit still. She felt a complicated pattern being drawn and then the coolness of Anniak blowing across the sigil to help it dry. Bemere managed to keep still, but couldn’t stop her breathing from quickening. She was nearly panting.
Anniak caressed her neck as she folded the collar back up and Bemere barely held in a moan of pure pleasure.
Great Mother, lend me strength to withstand the temptation to lay this one upon the floor and have my way with her.
Anniak came around and stood in front of her to tie her shirt again. Bemere saw that the woman’s nipples had hardened under her bandeau again and she dug her nails into her abused palms again. She wanted nothing more than to feel them between her fingers, to take the tender points of flesh between her lips until the woman screamed with pleasure…
“Serah Gwyenth has mentioned the Plenilune preference for the kyickmur under the open sky,” Anniak said, stepping back.
Bemere blinked and forced the fantasy away. “Yes, that’s correct.”
“There is another option,” Anniak said, her voice dropping an octave. “There is an empty chamber near my own…”
Gwyenth cleared her throat. “Perhaps I should show the serah our camp before she decides,” the High elf said quietly.
Bemere was grateful, but slightly annoyed. She really wanted to hear the moans the beautiful Aphostic made as she was pleasured. She also knew that she needed to be away from this beacon of temptation.
“If you change your mind, ask for me,” Anniak said. She turned and walked back to the inner chamber, her hips swaying softly.
“She didn’t offer us an inside room,” Kaylie whispered as they left Khivu’s chambers.
Gwyenth shook her head as they walked down the passage but Bemere saw her smiling. They followed a twisted path through tunnels that led upwards. Finally, the passage ended at a flight of stone steps. Bemere could feel the wetness on her thighs as she climbed. She was starting to get frantic, she had to find some privacy soon.
At the top of the steps was an ancient looking wooden door, bound in black iron. It was propped open and Bemere followed Gwyenth through. They were standing on a sort of terrace cut into the cliff face. Above them was open sky and the feeling of cool air.
Gwyenth took her arm and led Bemere further onto the terrace. “The breeze is stronger here. Take deep breaths, your head will clear.”
Bemere nodded gratefully as she took deep breaths of the cool evening air. “You could tell?”
Gwyenth snorted. “I wasn’t the only one, obviously. I once made the identical mistake, visiting a burrow during the chikkur ceremony. Feeling better? Come and meet the others.”
Bemere followed her over to where their large gryphons were stretched out on the warm stone. When the gryphons saw them, both made sounds like muffled trumpets.
“Listen to you complain, lazybones!” Kaylie said, laughing. “You could be out there chasing away the stragglers instead.”
“Serah, first let me introduce our partners,” Gwyenth said. “Serah Bemere, this is Ouranos. We’ve been together for many years now. Boreas is next to him. He’s a bit younger and was bonded with Kaylie at the end of last Sun’s Height.”
“It is an honor to meet you both,” Bemere said, bowing her head to each of them.
Both of the gryphons raised their fearsome heads and inhaled deeply. Ouranos chattergrumbled to Gwyenth.
“He recognizes a familiar part of your scent,” Gwyenth said. “You said you had an aunt who knew Gryphonfolk?”
“Yes, she was close friends with one of your brethren called Jocasta.”
Ouranos grumbled again, stretching.
“He is something like a cousin to Jocasta,” Gwyenth translated. “Now that the social niceties have been observed, let us speak plainly.”
“I agree.”
“You need to realize that you’ve stepped into a more perilous moment than you probably than you realize. What were you thinking, coming here during your fertility? Have you never met Spiderkin before?”
“No, I spoke the truth at our meeting,” Bemere said, embarrassment taking over as the burning lust faded to the toofamiliar undertone of constant arousal. “I happened on the Cyannous expedition and followed them here. And no, I’ve never met Spiderkin before. Why was I so affected in there?”
“Green Mother, why do you continue my persecution?” Gwyenth said to the sky.
Both of the gryphons clacked their beaks and puffed out their feathers. Kaylie smothered a laugh as Ouranos grumbled loudly at his rider.
“No, that was an expression, not a prayer,” Gwyenth replied.
They slowly laid down again, although the huffs and ruffled feathers were obvious signs of disapproval.
“They are somewhat literal minded,” Kaylie said, bringing cushions that she laid out between the pair.
“That is one way to put it,” Gwyenth said. “Sit with us, there is much to say and not much time to say it.”
Bemere sat down between the two Gryphons, facing Gwyenth. “As I said, I am an envoy of the Selene, specifically an Eye. I have often visited the southern reaches of the Grassland Empire, but this is my first trip to the north side of the empire in many years. The Lady is growing uneasy with rumors of war preparations in the highlands. She has bid me to go there to tease out the rumors from fact.”
“It was so urgent that you came during your fertile season?”
Bemere felt her face grow warm with a blush. “I kept that fact to myself. Since I have no interest in children, I can better serve her out in the world instead of trapped at home. Is it so obvious?”
“To anyone with a sharp nose and the knowledge of the scent. Mistress Anniak certainly noticed.”
Bemere shuddered slightly, remembering the pale gray eyes and those gentle fingers on her neck. “But I’ve been dealing with it without a problem, until just now. I do not understand why the feeling was so strong.”
Gwyenth sighed. “I am reassured that you were not sent here intentionally, but the problem remains. It isn’t well known, but the Great Spiderkin, the chikkur, descend from the same bloodline as we fae do, just as the humans and the Plaflakhi share a common ancestor.”
“I had heard the stories, but never paid much attention.”
“Perhaps if you had, you’d be safely elsewhere. You have come to this burrow just as Khivu Ataphalis begins a new generation of chikkur. Because of our shared ancestry with the Spiderkin, you are affected in the same way as any other burrow dweller.”
Bemere sighed and rubbed her eyes. “Some kind of magic?”
“No, it is a purely physical process created by the scent the matriarch produces. They call it Matriarch’s Herald. Normally we can ignore all but the strongest scent, but during the fertile time, your SeedofLife responds just as strongly as any of the chikkur. I don’t know how the Aphostic can function in there, perhaps they use their damned potions. Anyway, the Herald scent grows stronger as the celebration approaches and it must be near the peak now.”
“What does this Herald do, exactly?”
It was the High Elf’s turn to rub her eyes. “At its peak, the Herald drives the entire burrow into an unbridled orgy for several days. This creates a surge of life energy for the unborn Spiderkin, and the stronger the better.”
Bemere looked at Kaylie. “That pair of Plaflakhi! That’s why they were so attentive.”
Kaylie chuckled. “Yes. I wasn’t sure if I should be flattered or terrified.”
“And this Herald has to do with the battle today?
“Yes,” Gwyenth said. “The Spiderkin do not carry their young inside their bodies. The eggs are fertilized by the mother, then placed inside a host. They stay there, protected, until they are born. The Lesser Spiderkin are the result of eggs implanted in lesser creatures. The Greater, called the chikkur, are the result of an egg implanted within a thinking and speaking host.”
Bemere shuddered. “I’ve read of certain wasps…”
“I know of what you speak, but this is not a death sentence for the host. You are within the burrow and there is the Law, which always demands its balance. A new life cannot be balanced by a cost of death. The chikkur hosts are left alive after the birth of the young. By all accounts, they even enjoy the experience. It’s not uncommon for hosts to join the chikkur clan they are a host for.”
“I didn’t understand why the defenders were being so gentle,” Bemere said. “I see it now. They didn’t want to damage their incubators.”
“Exactly. There were not enough in the first expedition to host the number of children that they destroyed and Khivu was considering Law and Think when word of this second group came. Now she has more than enough, and she finds balance.”
Bemere nodded and thought for a few seconds. “But I do not see my peril here.”
“My earlier experience? I was coming into fertility and visited a burrow just before a breeding frenzy. It was very difficult to control, and I was not close to that matriarch. Even then, well, I nearly exhausted poor Ouranos before I regained my mental faculties.”
The gryphon she was leaning on grumbled an annoyed response that didn’t need translation. Kaylie was laughing and Boreas growled something that sounded amused. But Bemere hardly noticed, stunned by the implication.
“I…forgive my ignorance. I had always assumed that was just salacious slander.”
“It’s marvelously salacious,” Gwyenth chuckled. “But not slander. That is how we are called to the Green Mother’s service. I see that you are truly speechless.”
“Can you imagine my surprise?” Kaylie asked, giggling again.
“Our Lady is mysterious and subtle,” Gwyenth added, smiling for a moment. “Back to the moment. The prisoners will be implanted until there are replacements for the murdered younglings. The balance of the prisoners will be kept here to work off their debt for the other damage they caused, until the chikkur are born.”
“And then?”
“Then they’ll be taken to the border and released. They will have returned the lives they stole and repaired the damage they did. Thus, balance is restored.”
“They’re given a powerful motive for revenge,” Bemere said.
“They won’t feel it,” Gwyenth said. “Remember that they worship Law. Even if it’s not apparent to outsider, there must always be balance. All of them are being given some kind of ichor that will bind their hearts to the Spiderkin and the burrow.”
“How is that even possible?”
Gwyenth sighed. “I am told it is taken from a secretion created by the eggs to bind the youngling and host together. Somehow it can be created and distilled. It will be given to them every day, until they are set free.”
Bemere blinked. “And the effect is permanent?”
“So they claim. As ever, the Aphostic spread their mischief through their damnable alchemy.”
“So you’ve come to Witness.”
Gwyenth looked at her for a long moment. “Yes, because something like this has never been done before,” she said quietly. “There are also hints of something large and ugly coming to life in the furthest burrows. But we have wandered from the point. These things combined; your fertility season, Khivu’s herald, and whatever miasma the Aphostic have created, I fear that your spirit may be taken over by the urge to carry chikkur young. I do not wish to face my conscience, or our Great Mother, if your long life is wasted as a breeding host.”
Bemere took a deep breath. “And you know I can’t back out of Witnessing, I swore in my Lady’s name.”
“Yes, you did, and no you can’t.”
Ouranos rumbled his agreement.
Bemere made a face. “I know of only one way to interrupt the feelings. I don’t suppose you Golden ones have some better method?”
“Yes, we stay at home when our seasons come,” Gwyenth said wryly. “Your body must become too ill to spend its attention on anything else. How strong are your urges?”
“Strong enough,” Bemere sighed. “Kaylie, is there any meat in your provisions?”
“No, I can’t take the smell,” Gwyenth said. “Do the Plenilune have the same sort of silly feats in their youthful foolishness as we do?”
Bemere’s stomach tightened at the memory. “I think we must, but it was a dare instead of a feat. You have clover with you?”
Gwyenth nodded, a sympathetic smile on her face. “I truly am sorry. My pipe case is in the saddle pack.” She got up and went to rummage in the pile of luggage, returning with a flat case. “Kaylie?”
“No, thank you all the same. I’ve learned my own lessons.”
“She didn’t believe that the clover grown by fae would be any stronger than strains grown in the highlands. She slept for an entire day and night.”
“And she didn’t know what whyskey was,” Kaylie said to Bemere.
“Nor was I charmed by the introduction,” Gwyenth said, sitting back down.
Bemere shuddered. “I tried liquor when I first came to Brynjarl Sands. My head spun for the entire day followed by a terrible headache the next morning.”
Gwyenth opened the case and took out a pair of wooden pipes. She offered one to Bemere who took it with a small bow.
Kaylie watched as Gwyenth and Bemere lit long stemmed pipes with tiny bowls. They inhaled deeply but after only a couple of draws, the dried clover was gone, leaving a pinch of tan colored ash in its place. They carefully tapped it out into a small cup and refilled the pipes and lit them.
“You two aren’t going to be fit to walk yourselves to the privy,” Kaylie said.
“It doesn’t affect us as badly,” Gwyenth said. “It’s like that fermented bog water you love so much.”
Kaylie watched as the two elves repeated the emptying and refilling of the pipes.
After several more repetitions, Gwyenth peered into the small cup.
“A bit more I think.”
Bemere looked at the tan dust shuddered. “Next time I’ll listen to my mother about not sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong.”
Gwyenth stretched and leaned back on Ouranos’ flank. “With all solemn glory and respect to your illustrious mother, I am starting to see that another of the fae suzerainties being here is a good thing. The Golden have far too much hi with political intrigues to be quickly taken at our word. If the unpleasant rumors turn into truth, we may need to move quickly.”
“Things are as unsettled as that?” Bemere asked.
Gwyenth sighed. “We don’t know for sure. Ekih, who was Khivu’s predecessor, died without warning not long ago. She was not young, and I know of no proof her death was planned, but the Spiderkin are very hardy and her demise was very sudden. Her chosen heir was Khivu. She is barely of age and did not complete her learning with Ekih, but she must lead the burrow.”
“Matricide?” Bemere asked very quietly.
“That was my assumption at first,” Gwyenth said. “But the sudden murder of Khivu’s generation of chikkur…those younglings were to be Khivu’s advisors and courtiers later in life. Without them, she is dependent on her predecessor’s court for far too long. Intentionally or unintentionally, they will cripple her with Ekih’s views and beliefs, not her own. And what’s worse, Ekih preferred the Aphostic ones and the Father of Night alone knows the twisting paths of their devious minds.”
“They’re not all evil,” Kaylie told her. “But, yes, if there is a plot, the court would be the most logical place to start. Burrows are linked as much as any other settlement, though the roads are hidden from view. To the north, there are factions that itch to expand the web of burrows. They dare not push against the Golden’s borders to their east, and the sea blocks the north. To the south, the humans are said to be weak and disorganized.”
“If one were to look at the lands from the Grassland Empire’s borders to the north, I could see how they’d come to that conclusion,” Bemere said. “But Flavius, and the emperor before him have followed the advice of the counsellors. They are neither weak, nor disorganized. Even if the Legions could be overcome, they would buy more than enough time for the kingdoms to the south more than enough time to assemble their own military. There would be no question of alliances in the face of nonhuman invaders. And that is without taking the imperial canal into account. Is this why Khivu asked where the empire’s borders began?”
Gwyenth frowned. “I do not understand that. She has, or perhaps had, accurate maps, I presented them to Ekih myself. I asked for access to her library to search for them. But I am told this is a time of celebration and perhaps afterward. None of this dispels the rumors of intrigue and worse swirling around this burrow. That is why my first thought was that you had been here directly.”
“That prisoner, have you spoke to him before?” Bemere asked.
“No, though I have spoken to several others,” Gwyenth said. “But their stories are roughly the same. I am very curious about this fae scout that comes up in the retelling, and whether he was truly Sylvan fae. It would be very unusual for them to be involved with anything beyond their forests.”
“There’s something else,” Bemere said, lowering her voice. “The invaders’ actions, then compared to now. I would expect defiance or hate from the prisoners. Not sorrow.”
“You suspect a glamour?” Gwyenth asked Bemere.
“I’ve come to know Humans well, and the madness the prisoner describes, and their reactions after the fact, does not sound normal. Even more damning, the fact that all of them claim to share in the killing, without an attempt to shift blame or provide explanation. While they can be brutal and warlike, it is nowhere as common as the bards sing it to be. I have no proof, but something does feel wrong here.”
“I noticed the same thing,” Kaylie said quietly.
Gwyenth grimaced. “And I ignored your advice, for which I beg your pardon. If there is a fae practiced and powerful enough to glamour an entire troop into slaughter, our trouble here is real and far blacker than I had guessed.”
Both gryphons fluffed their fur and feathers, growling phrases that sounded both angry and alarmed.
“We will wait until there is some kind of proof,” Gwyenth told them. “Bemere, if you don’t mind, our colleagues are uncomfortable with this idea.”
Bemere chuckled. “They are not alone. What shall we speak of instead?”
“You mentioned earlier that your branch of the Fae does not use the lineage method to grant the title of serah. How were you elevated?” Kaylie asked.
`”That was a long time ago,” Bemere said, studying the curls of smoke coming from the tiny bowl of the pipe. “It happened during the rebellions at home. I rode with a Juror company.”
Gwyenth nodded her head slightly. “A loyalist then.”
Bemere accepted the compliment with a slight blush. “There was only my life’s honor to think of.”
Kaylie frowned at them. “If you two are going to sit there and be arcane at each other, I’m taking Boreas flying.”
The gryphon behind her lifted his head and growled a string of liquid syllables. Gwyenth bit her lip to keep from laughing. There was an answering growl from Ouranos that sounded halfamused, halfangry.
“And it’s a good thing our guest doesn’t understand you!” Kaylie snapped, blushing. “Mind your mouth!”
Gwyenth grinned at Bemere. “Worse than newlyweds.”
“Bemere, you said you were a Juror,” Kaylie said, ignoring her. “Is that the same sort of Jurors that humans use?”
“Technically, yes but I never sat in legal proceedings. The nobles that were to be prosecuted always attacked before we ever were close enough to read their indictment. It was during one of our civil wars. Her Selenic Majesty of the time was…unwell. After the insurrection was put down, I decided that the Human lands were more conducive to my peace of mind, even with the bitter memories from the Pretender’s War.”
“I don’t remember that name from the histories I’ve read so far,” Kaylie said.
“It was called Straum’s Rebellion in the highlands, I think,” Gwyenth said. “Does that sound familiar?”
Kaylie was at least as surprised as Bemere had when she’d first seen the human reveal her face. “Yes…and pardon my surprise, it’s easy to forget the difference in our ages. You don’t look any older than I do.”
“No apologies are necessary,” Bemere said. “We’re roughly at the same point in our lives if that makes you feel any better.”
“We fought for the same cause,” Gwyenth said. “You rode with the Human loyalists there as well?”
Bemere smiled. “No, I was barely an adult and my first trip away from the homelands. So, I barely knew a Human from a handsaw. I was a mounted archer, our regiment was the Silver Leaf.”
“One of the Companions!” Gwyenth said. “You are a constant wonder Bemere. The Companions were on our right flank, I rode with the Border Sentries back in those days and your lot kept those blue stained lunatics from our throats. Where did you ride?”
Bemere was uncomfortable but didn’t see a way to avoid the question. “The vanguard.”
Sudden sadness washed across Gwyenth’s face. “Then you were there when…?”
“Yes,” Bemere said quietly. “And, returning to the present, I’m on my way up into the highlands once again.”
“The imbecilic warlord? Took you all long enough.”
Bemere blinked. “No, that’s not what I…I’m an Eye, not an assassin!”
“Oh, I ask your pardon. The clover is muddling my wit. But you’re too late. He was at one of those barbaric tournament things, carousing and managed to get himself kicked in the head by a horse in some rustic prank.”
“I can’t say it’s a complete surprise,” Bemere said. “He’s been a thorn in the side of the Golden for a long time.”
Gwyenth sat up, looking comically offended. “A moment please! We would not be involved, not like that!”
Bemere laughed. “Then perhaps it really was an accident. I’ve heard that he was a clumsy sort.”
From there, by unspoken agreement, their conversation moved away from secret machinations in favor of silly gossip gathered from the Human kingdoms and Shared Lands alike. Finally, they had collected enough of the ash and Gwyenth gave Bemere a cup of water.
“Again, my apologies. If there were any other way…”
“After I swallow this, I will force myself into a deep kyickmur.”
Gwyenth nodded. “Nothing will happen until the sun is up tomorrow.”
Bemere nodded and dumped the pile of taupe colored ash on her tongue. She immediately drained the water and her entire body convulsed in a long shudder.
“It’s even worse…” she gagged before her eyes closed and her face relaxed.
Bemere’s higher mind took its leave from her physical body, and its treacherous sense of taste, and gone into a meditative contemplation that would occupy her thoughts elsewhere. Kaylie took the elf’s pipe from nerveless fingers and handed it back to Gwyenth.
“That bad?” She asked.
The High elf grimaced. “Worse than you can imagine. Let’s make her comfortable at least, I’ve got extra blankets.”
“If you’re going to be that particular, you can do it yourself.”
The whisper was harsh and loud in Bemere’s ears and she was certain she could hear an echo bouncing around the cold cave in her head. The whisper was followed by a chuffing exhalation that shook stalactites of misery loose in the echoing dark. She struggled up in consciousness and the little darts of sickness congealed into a gagging retch.
“Serah, there is a jar of tea to your left,” Kaylie said. “Gwyenth made it for you.”
Bemere fumbled for the ceramic beaker before her eyes were fully open, desperate for any relief at all. The peppery smell had barely reached her nose before she was draining the entire thing. The sharp taste was strong and likely would have dissolved her teeth, but it provided a little distraction from the hideous taste in her mouth and the roiling protests of her gut.
She squinted to see Kaylie leaning against Boreas, braiding the hair on the end of his tail. The gryphon was curled almost in a circle around her, watching closely. Her stomach abruptly rejected the tea and Bemere clapped a hand over her mouth and stumbled to the edge of the rock to vomit over the side.
“There is a jug of cold water…”
“Yes, I saw it,” Bemere rasped.
She reached down and took the pitcher and washed her mouth out before drinking deeply. Kaylie had a sympathetic expression as the elf’s expression wavered between relief and deep disgust.
“Gwyenth left a packet of tea, I’ll heat some water for you…”
“Not necessary.”
Bemere took the sachet from Kaylie and poured the entire thing into her mouth. She coughed slightly, sending up a small plume of ground tea. This brought a surprised chuff from Boreas that Bemere ignored as she drained the rest of the pitcher to deal with the searingly hot peppers in the raw tea.
“Pardon my rudeness,” Bemere said and then stifled a belch. “That may have been rash, but it was preferable to licking embers in the fire.”
Kaylie looked sympathetic. “Then it’s working, I guess? Gwyenth got called away for some question about the law and Ouranos is out hunting. Both will be back soon.”
Bemere nodded slightly, not wanting to antagonize her stomach. “Where could I find more water?”
“Just on the other side of that rock.”
Bemere nodded her thanks, still trying not to move her head. She found a large bowl carved into the stone, fed by a spring in its base. Bemere took a deep breath and submerged her head into the clear icy water.
The Silver Elf eventually got over the worst of the immediate effect and was even able to stretch, albeit a little gingerly, until there was the sound of a staccato slap from the portal into the burrow. Bemere looked up to see a familiar gnomish woman standing in the doorway.
“I hear your trouble beat,” Kaylie said, going over and sitting on her heels in front of the gnome.
“Be not just trouble, be wartrouble besides,” the gnome said. Her voice was highpitched with a whistling accent, but her Collective Tongue was perfectly understandable. “Raist sent some out in secret. They took that Moon elf’s insane yellowhair Human. She was wearing envoy colors. They have come back here, seeking to hide the envoy coat to keep their deed a secret.”
“Roll me in shit,” Kaylie breathed.
She went to Boreas as he got up with a low, liquid growl. Kaylie patted his neck as she took her sword from the saddle and began wrapping the belt around her waist. The gnome went to Bemere.
“You recognize this face?” She asked Bemere, who nodded. “I am Inzya and I swore lifedebt to you and the crazy yellowhair, but that is not for this moment. Now comes wartrouble and KnifeintheDarkness stalks the passages. Arm yourself.”
Bemere clenched her teeth against the nausea as she went to get her saber and shorter parrying dagger.
“I’m going with her to retrieve the other envoy.” Kaylie said to Boreas once they were ready.
His rolling liquid growl swelled into a halfroar and the gryphon threw himself into open air, wings spreading wide as he fell. A moment later, he was rising in a thermal, circling past. He snarled and barked something at them as they followed Inzya inside.
“He says he’ll find Ouranos and they’ll use the main gate,” Kaylie translated.
“And he be talkin’ dirty to you,” Inzya chortled.
Kaylie flushed deep red. “Pardon, he is rather young and full of himself.”
Bemere noticed that Kaylie had a small smile on her face as they followed the gnome into the burrow.
“Wait, does it matter that Twyla isn’t actually an envoy?” Bemere asked. “I just wanted to make sure she wouldn’t be harmed.”
“Doesn’t matter what she is underneath,” Inzya said. “The notouch patterns mean Emissary and Envoy. Nobody touch, ever. Now we are going quickly.”
“How do know Inzya?” Kaylie asked, as they jogged down the passageway after the gnome.
“We met a few days ago,” Bemere said. “I suppose it’s the Trickster’s work that she really was spying on the Cyannous militia.”
Kaylie had no idea what Bemere was talking about, but the gnome was running faster now, and she needed her breath.
The passages of the burrow were much less crowded than they’d been yesterday. Several of the chambers they passed were brightly lit and there was music and laughter coming from inside. They came to a branch in the tunnel where several more gnomes waited. Inzya had a brief conversation with them and Bemere realized they were all female.
“Who are our guides?” Bemere murmured.
“Friends. They are…the word translates to something like lawwife,” Kaylie answered quietly.
They’d been whispering but Inzya and the others were looking at her and nodding. They were chirps and slaps against the stone walls as the others turned and dashed up another passage.
“Wives to the Law is near enough to it,” Inzya said to Bemere. “Me and my sisters love Law above anything else, defend it with our life, like a gnome defend spouse tooth and claw. Now we gonna run again, gonna be a long haul. Keep up.”
A moment later the three of them were running full tilt down another dark passageway. The occasional pools of light they dashed through came more often and several times they ran through the middle of what looked like traveling parties, possibly impromptu orgies, spilling out into the passage. The darkness of the passage was punctuated with the occasional glare of light and images, laughs and moans. Taken alongside the sickness in Bemere’s gut, the journey took on the feel of a particularly surreal fever dream. Then, as they ran through the darkness there was hissing from all around them.
“Apostate!” Someone screamed, and a handful of dust was flung into Bemere’s face.
A white light was tossed up and it stuck on the tunnel overhead. Bemere was wiping red dust from her eyes and spitting it out.
“What is that?” Kaylie asked.
Inzya looked closer and groaned. “That be dust from Khivu’s chmaber, be full of the Herald. She will be out of her head now, crazy for .”
“Except not today,” Bemere growled, wiping at her eyes with her cuffs. “This really stings my eyes.”
Inzy actually looked impressed. “But that one still has her wits! Your spirit is strong, Silver Walker.”
“My stomach is not and I am tasting feet and dirt,” Bemere said and bent over to retch again.
“You’re able to continue?” Kaylie asked, wetting a cloth.
“Yes, and I am not having a pleasant day.”
“It’ll get better, or something comforting like that,” Kaylie muttered, wiping the reddish grit from Bemere’s face.
“I’m old enough to know better,” Bemere said, nodding her thanks.
“They gonna try it again,” Inzya warned.
Kaylie wet another cloth and handed it to Bemere who tied it over her mouth and nose. Kaylie pulled her hood up and arranged the cowl over her face.
“Almost there, let’s go,” Inzya said and they jogged after her.
The gnome finally stopped at a chamber entrance. It was lit but there were no sounds of revelry. Inside, there were dozens of bodies slumped on the floor. Here and there, a few of the Aphostic elves moved around the still forms carrying large stone bottles with cloth pads over the end. Occasionally they would stop and dab the face of a restive prisoners. As they watched, a large Spiderkin from the warrior caste came in from another tunnel. He gently picked up a comatose prisoner and carried her back up the tunnel.
“They’re dosing them for the implanting,” Kaylie said quietly.
When the dark elves had moved further away, Inzya led them inside to a woman sprawled out and half covered with a blanket. Kneeling beside her, Bemere didn’t know if she would have recognized Twyla’s face under the layer of dirt. Her blonde hair had been caked in mud and the thin undertunic that she’d been wearing under the missing surcoat was torn and liberally stained with mud.
“She was in a fight,” Kaylie said. She lifted Twyla’s hand to show Bemere the scraped and bruised knuckles.
“That does not surprise me in the least,” Bemere said, brushing dirt off Twyla’s face.
“Met Aphostics,” Inzya said, digging in a pouch. “She’d just be shoutin’ them Humans down like before. Yellowhair is crazy, I see it, I like it.”
As she spoke, gnome produced a glowing stone that looked like an ember and wrapped it in a twist of moss. A moment later there was an acrid wisp of smoke and Inzya waved it toward Twyla’s nose. The woman rubbed at her nose, mumbling a complaint until Inzya wafted more bitter smoke under her nose. Twyla sneezed and squinted at them.
“What are you villains about now?” She grumbled.
“If you’re finally finished napping, we’ll be on our way, maestra.”
“Bemere? Is that you?” Twyla slurred, struggling to sit up.
The elf put an arm around her shoulders to help Twyla sit up. “Yes, it’s me. Are you hurt?”
Twyla managed to move with a slight groan. “Just got bounced around a bit. I’ll be fine…no, you came for me! They said you would come…thank you and I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to lure you back…”
“Don’t think she’s up for runnin,’ Inzya warned.
Twyla’s tearful face abruptly turned into a beaming smile as she recognized Inzya. “You’re my gnome friend! You look so much better, and you can talk!”
“No worries, let’s get her on her feet,” Kaylie said.
Twyla looked at Kaylie in confusion as they lifted her to her feet. Inzya hurried them back into the passage and they halfcarried, halfguided Twyla’s stumbling feet up the tunnel.
“Where to?” Bemere asked when they were safely away.
“To Khivu Ataphalis, why I can’t repay lifedebt,” Inzya said. “You cannot leave before we confront that one. Law is broken, bad broken, and she is the matriarch at the breaking. Broken Law is already spreading, new matriarch, Human prisoners, a kidnapped envoy. The Think is dark and bitter, wants to spread. Has to be fixed now, or wartrouble in all directions.”
“It would be a very nice job if the matriarch didn’t plan this,” Kaylie said. “High Elf diplomats are a major presence in the burrows. Harming one would start the mother of all storms. Humans will be blamed for it, of course.”
“What if she wants envoy prisoners?” Twyla slurred.
“Then we simply fight our way to the surface and escape,” Kaylie reassured her.
“Oh, that’s all right then. Who are you?”
“Hi, I’m Kaylie. It’s a pleasure.”
“Yes, likewise,” Twyla said automatically. Then she turned and looked owlishly at Bemere.
“So d’you collect humans? I was hardly gone, not even a whole day and night! And look at you. Already!”
Kaylie laughed delightedly and even through the roiling in her gut, Bemere smiled at Twyla’s affront.
“I was collected by completely different Fae, maestra,” Kaylie assured her.
Twyla turned and tried to focus on Kaylie as they went back to halfwalking, halfdragging her along.
“Is your elf as pretty as mine?” She finally asked.
Kaylie laughed. “Twyla, I think we’re going to be very good friends.”
“Well good! Wait until I see Bemmy. I can tell her I have a new friend.”
“I’m right here,” Bemere said. “And I think someone might need to finish their nap.”
“Oh, me too, please.” Twyla sighed. “It’s been a very strange day.”
The four of them stopped where the passage widened into a quiet darkness. A pair of lawwives emerged from the darkness and chattered back and forth with Inzya. After a moment, several more gnomes appeared, carrying a human sized litter. Twyla was guided down onto it.
“Serah Gwyenth comes here but the courtier named Raist is already moving,” Inzya told them. “Khivu Atalaphis has called the burrow to sit in judgement of you, Silver Walker.”
“The crazed Law Reader again? Please tell me this it isn’t over his ancient grudge?”
“Hardly. Khivu’s Reader of Law says you brought the maestra here to destroy the burrow.”
“Still not that kind of maestra,” a voice protested sleepily from the litter.
“If you’ll pardon me,” a new voice said from the darkness.
Bemere knew what was coming and squeezed her eyes shut just as the patter of dust hit her face. Twyla and Kaylie were both convulsed with coughing and sneezing. Several gnomes immediately chased off after whoever had thrown the herald dust.
“Is there any way we can stop that from happening?” Bemere said, wiping her face. “I can taste foot sweat.”
“And this really does sting,” Kaylie said, wiping her eyes.
“I feel funny all of a sudden,” Twyla said. “Kind of warm and gooey.”
“Already been dosed for the implanting,” one of the gnomes said, peering at her. “Gonna be out of her head soon.”
“I think they might have gotten me with the same thing,” Kaylie said slowly. “The mask caught most of it, but I’m definitely getting a bit tingly in the nethers.”
“Now I want to be naked!” Twyla announced.
Inzya knelt beside her and repeated the smoke making process with a leaf. After a little sweet smoke, Twyla’s eyes drooped closed.
“Light sleep, help keep her clothes on,” the gnome chuckled.
Minutes later, Gwyenth appeared from a side passage, guided by another LawWife. Above her mask, Bemere could see a look of absolute fury in the High elf’s eyes but her hands were gentle as she quickly examined Twyla.
“How bad is she?” The High Elf asked.
“They dosed her with the same philter as the other prisoners,” Kaylie said. “They’ve been throwing herald dust at us, it’s getting to me now.”
“Outrage upon outrage,” Gwyenth said grimly. “Take my thrower, you’re better with it than I am.”
The elf produced an elven clockworkpowered bolt thrower from inside her robe and gave it to Kaylie who made sure the heavy bolt was snug in the cradle. Guarded by LawWives ahead and behind, they moved quickly down the passage. There was laughter from above them at one point and more dust rained down. Kaylie spun and there was a whirring thump from the thrower as the thick bolt streaked upward. It hit the ceiling and there was a flash of bright light, turning the laughter into surprised yells and screams. It got louder as several gnomes ran up the walls to attack the ambushers.
“The bolts are made to splinter and wound, not kill,” Gwyenth said with a grim smile as they left the sound of the fight behind them. Not long after that, they were near the entrance to the council chamber of Khivu Ataphalis.
Gwyenth stepped close to Bemere. “Burrow politics are as twisty and confusing as their tunnels and their method of justice will seem very strange. Raist will likely try to confuse all the issues together, it’s a favorite trick of Law Readers. However, his precedence of complaint is behind ours, no matter what comes from his mouth. Therefore, he will wait until we’ve had our say. Goddess willing, Khivu will end the matter there.”
They stepped through and the large chamber was intensely bright after the dark of the passages. Gwyenth took the lead with Kaylie a step behind her left arm. Bemere walked a few paces behind them, with the LawWives that carried Twyla on her litter. Her saber and parrying dagger were unbound and loose in their scabbards. If this was to be her end, Bemere was determined to bring a few souls along for the journey into the next world.
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