Hawke is a bit worried about the price on his head. It is understandable. He is very visible and many more than just the Guild of Villains are looking for him now. The Constables blame him for the drow strike and are looking for him, too. He gives voice to his concerns, “It’s getting hard for me to get about without bumping into to trouble. Two groups tried to capture me just this morning.”
Shaddar advises him to no longer risk himself in public. “If you deem the risk too great, then by all means, remain in the shadows. It does us no good for you to put yourself at risk needlessly.”
“I’m worried that this Guildmaster won’t know who to fight,” Hawke grumbles. “We don’t want her challenging me directly – that’d do us no good.”
“The Guildmaster will know us better soon enough, have no fear of that! Another good reason for you to blend in for a while.” Hakwe nods and leaves to arrange his new and lengthier communication chain.
“A ready-made patsy, should I find myself in need of one,” Shaddar thinks with morbid satisfaction. “Yes, I must keep my options open.”
Reports soon come in that the people have had enough – they have swarmed the palace and are demanding that something be done. The palace nobles are outraged at the lack of decorum on the part of the city residents. This is causing an ugly feeling in the crowd. Shaddar tells the messenger to have their forces do all they can to increase the level of unrest and the man dashes back out.
Shaddar does not have to wait long for the pace of events to pick up once again…
Barrityl approaches him and quietly informs Shaddar that interlopers are on their way down to the palace. Human interlopers.
“Armed?”
“Very. A knight and one other. I must tell you, great one, that this is unheard of. I did not know that any humans knew of this place.” He looks concerned and a bit anxious.
“It’s quite alright, Barrityl! I have been expecting their visit all morning. It is all wholly regular. Some of the humans will come down to visit the elders of the drow during periods of great stress,” Shaddar explains quietly. Barrityl is clearly very impressed at Shaddar’s knowledge of the inner workings of the Realm. Shaddar leans away from his master assassin and shouts, “Leave me! Exit this room at once! And someone bring me Yanivlitan!”
The drow and hobgoblins in the room rush to obey.
Once the room has cleared itself, Shaddar continues his commands to Barrityl. “See that they are ushered in to see me right away once they arrive at the palace. You and your Scalehunters will wait in the hidden room to the left. I will call if I have need of you.” The drow nods and slips from the room to assemble his men.
Shaddar summons his thralls mentally, telling them to drop what they are doing and attend him at once. They arrive with gratifying speed.
“Hide yourselves in the concealed room to the right,” he mentally commands. They leap to follow his wishes. Toothsnatcher makes sure his axe is loose in its holster with a grunt of satisfaction. Their thoughts are filled with delight at a coming diversion from their new duties.
Yanivlitan enters the now empty chamber with some trepidation.
“You require my presence, great one?”
Shaddar stands from the throne and motions the drow elder to sit. “Take the seat, chancellor. Word has reached my ears that emissaries from the lords of the city will be here soon to speak to you. No doubt they have questions about the truancy of the drow slaves. Receive them.”
The elderly drow hobbles uncertainly to the throne and sits. Shaddar motions with his tentacles to the back wall near the hidden opening to the right-hand listening-room.
“I will be here. Observing. At least for the first portion of their visit,” he explains gently. The panic on the face of the drow at the vague instructions is pleasing.
“Ah. Ah? What?” Yanivlitan sputters ineffectually. Shaddar raises an eyebrow.
The drow clears his throat and tries again, “What instructions do you have for me? How shall I act towards them?”
“Just… be yourself,” Shaddar murmurs.
“But how shall I answer them when they ask for an explanation of recent actions?”
Shaddar waggles a solitary tentacle at the fellow as he replies, “Precisely. I will be judging the quality and tone of your answers. The manner of their speech and their position is known to me, but yours? Well. We shall see. It will be of great use to me in determining your loyalty… and usefulness.”
“Oh,” whispers the terrified drow, “Good.”
Shaddar nods happily and retreats to his preselected location near the back wall to watch the coming festivities.
The churn he can detect in the frazzled mind of Yanivlitan is soothing and he feels quite relaxed by the time he detects the minds of his guests.
The knight opens the double doors grandly. The man is resplendent in his polished armor. A silken cape is draped over one shoulder and leaves his sword arm free and ready. His sword is glowing with magic, leaving wisps of light blue fire trailing behind him as he moves, even though the blade his sheathed. He moves with the easy grace of a lifetime spent honing his skills of combat.
Impressive as the knight is Shaddar is very interested to see that he steps aside to allow his companion to enter the chamber first.
It is a woman, garbed exquisitely in a shimmering gown that is dripping with tasteful jewels. A simple silver tiara adorns her brow. The self-confident and utterly calm demeanor places her as one of the nobility. Not merely acting as one, but one who has been born into a higher strata of social ability and comforts.
She strides into the center of the room and places on hand delicately on her hip.
The knight closes the door and bellows, “The Lady Weenakitha! Direct personal ambassador to His Excellency, Culderth’jura, High Lord of Big City! Hear her words and despair!” With this statement he spreads his feet, leans his hand on the pommel of his sword, and scowls. Clearly he intends to keep watch next to the door.
Lady Weenakitha dips her head slightly as she speaks, “Greetings to you, elder of the drow.” Her eyes dart to the empty thrones in the room. “Where are your companions, Yanivlitan?”
“They all have died of old age. Quite sudden it was,” Yanivlitan answers with sorrow. “I am the only elder at the moment - we wait for the next festival of the moon to select replacements for my old friends.”
“I am sorry for your loss.” The woman actually sounds like she could care less. Her face is like an image of polished marble for all of the compassion it displays. Shaddar is annoyed that he can not read her thoughts at all. Not even a hint. Perhaps she is using magic to protect herself? She is a total mystery to him since her control of her expressions matches the blankness of her mind to his senses. The knight is difficult to read, but at least his features are easy to read.
Yanivlitan takes this as a sign that his answer is satisfactory and continues, “It has been a great many years since we have been graced with a visit from the High Lord’s ambassadors. Is there some sort of problem?”
“You dare to feign ignorance! I shall — ” the knight roars. He stops as the woman’s hand whips into the air.
Lady Weenakitha steps forward two paces as she speaks, “Are you claiming ignorance of the actions of your people? We demand answers. If you do not have them…” Her voice trails off to allow the drow elder to fill in the blanks with his own imagination. And his fear is now readily apparent in his countenance. Shaddar wonders if the old fellow will have a heart attack soon.
“Have all of the drow suddenly become ill?” she asks coolly. “Is there a plague upon us which only effects your kind? For what other possible reason are all of your people not in their assigned places? Not performing their duties so given to them as a people by the grace of the Lords? What could cause the drow to forget the great favors that they owe? The everlasting oaths which their fathers took for themselves and all their children - oaths that allow them to live? Live and not be put to death as is fitting for wicked traitors to all life?” She pauses and tilts her head in a questioning pose. “Come. Speak.”
“The evil you speak of is a slander, Lady Weenakitha! You judge me and all of my people for the actions of those dead for thousands of years?”
She shrugs. “If I do, it does not matter. That is your place in the Realm.”
Yanivlitan seems to shrink into himself. “And I know it. I am grateful for the many boons of the Lords, do not doubt it.”
The woman allows half a heartbeat to pass before a curt request is given: “So?”
The drow elder says nothing. His thoughts show that he is at a total loss as to what he should say. He is terrified out of wits by the Lords of the Realm on one hand and Shaddar standing right behind him on the other.
Lady Weenakitha sighs. “Have you no explanation for the absence of the drow?”
“I’ll… I’ll have someone look into it,” he sputters, “This is the first I’ve heard of such things. No drow at their work, you say? Why, that’s outrageous! I’ll get right on this matter, Lady!”
She sniffs in displeasure and drums her fingers on her waist a single time.
A single slender brow lifts slightly on her face as she says, “Very well. I do, of course, have a few other minor concerns. If you have time to hear them?”
“O-o-of course, Lady Weenakitha!”
“Do you know, by chance, why the drow stonemasons have disobeyed their orders to keep the border zone pristine? The Lords enjoy the ascetics of a smooth transitional area between the halves of the city that represent the good and holy as well as the wicked and base. An ascetic, might I add, which has been totally ruined as of this morning. Indeed, I believe the High Lord himself called it a ‘walking nightmare’ upon returning from his morning constitutional.”
“I… don’t know what you speak of,” the drow elder begins. “I live down here and do not visit the upper world of Big City. I must send runners to find out what has happened at once. Have those lads been playing pranks again? Ha-ha! We shall discipline them most severely! Boys will be boys —”
“This is not a joke.” Her voice has gone thin and flat. Yanivlitan’s false laughter dies at once.
“You have been less than helpful, Yanivlitan,” Lady Weenakitha’s voice has a hint of disappointment in it. “Are you not the ruler of your people?”
“Well. Yes.”
“And do we not allow you great latitude in performing your labors and organizing yourselves?”
“Indeed. For which we are most grate—”
“And yet you see and know nothing...”
“Ask me something else,” suggests the drow elder helplessly. Shaddar thinks this is the most amusing thing he has heard of all day!
“Fine,” she says graciously. “I fear you will not know the answer this question either. But perhaps, despite the fact that you are completely insulated from the events of the ‘upper world’, as you call it, you will be able to illuminate me on another matter.” She sighs deeply. “Do you know who is responsible for the insult given to the Lords of the city?”
The confusion on Yanivlitan’s face is clear even from Shaddar’s limited perspective. The contrast between this look of ignorance and his earlier protestations is not lost of the ambassador either. Her eyes narrow ans Shaddar realizes that, entertaining and educational as this has been - the game is now ended.
Shaddar steps forward. “Perhaps I can be of assistance in answering this question.”
All eyes turn towards Shaddar. The knight wrinkles his nose in disgust at Shaddar’s face. The relief mingled with terror on the face of the drow elder is childlike in its evidence. The ambassador regards him with the same unsurprised calm that she has displayed for the entire time she has been in the room.
“Your jester claims to know the answers, Yanivlitan? Perhaps he should be elevated to your rank? Is this image one you dark elves find amusing? Such low tastes.”
Yanivlitan’s gaze moves between the woman and the illithid and his mouth works, but no sound issues forth.
Lady Weenakitha waves one hand towards Shaddar as she acquiesces, “Say on, Jester.”
“It is quite simple. You see: all of the events that have transpired of late have been at my behest. You wish answers? Then by all means ask at the source.”
“Your behest?” coughs the woman with a laugh.
“Yes,” Shaddar hisses. “You consider yourself an ambassador of the Lords of Big City, do you? Does this mean that you are now my ambassador? Surely it must be so, because this city... is… mine.”
“How dare you! Allow me to slay this fool, my Lady!” the knight yelps as he draws his growling blade.
Lady Weenakitha shakes her head slowly with a look of wonder on her face. “Outrageous,” she whispers. “Rightly I labeled you a jester - for one you must be.”
“Do you think so?” Shaddar whispers dangerously.
“You,” she says slowly, “claim to have done… all of this? The uproars? The insults? The violence and upset of our order?”
Shaddar leans back and tries to look modest, “Well! Not personally! I have many minions and underlings. Catspaws and pawns. So many things to set in motion, you see? I couldn’t possibly do them all by myself, no matter how enjoyable that might be.” His tentacles flare in challenge as he finishes, “But I am the conductor of this orchestra of mayhem - yes!”
“Indeed? Then tell me, mad orchestrator that you are… what proof do you offer of these claims? Surely you must know that your presentation and claims mark you as one deranged - not one to be taken seriously. And I do not believe in punishing those who are mad for the crime of being mad.”
“I hardly see what good proofs will do you, Lady,” Shaddar says grandly. “Since you will not be leaving this place to take them with you. I do not spend my time doing pointless favors. No. Instead, you will tell me the information that I require.”
Shaddar blasts both of the humans with his mind and is gratified to see their features go slack.
“Eventually,” he mummers. He wanders over to the knight and cuasully devours the man’s brain. His heavy corspe slams into the ground with a clatter of armored limbs and the sword goes spinning across the floor unused. How anti-climatic…
Shaddar turns to Yanivlitan and says in a bored tone of voice, “You are excused. Thank you.”
“Wha?” The drow elder seems to be having a difficult time catching his breath. “A knight! You killed him! I thought…”
“I know,” Shaddar says empathetically, “But such is my power that the knights, and even the lords, must fall before it. It is pointless for them to defy me. Just as it is pointless for you to defy me. You would do well to remember that… Now take your tatters of a plot against me and begone.”
Yanivlitan staggers, but manages to leave the room under his own power.
Shaddar dismisses his thralls and they leave the room. Toothsnatcher is grumbling that he never gets to have any fun as he pulls the door shut.
Shaddar remains alone with the stunned woman and awaits her revival patiently. When Lady Weenakitha does snap out of it the transition is sudden. She does not seem confused at all, but looks around herself attentively. She takes in the dead body of the knight in an instant and then returns her gaze to Shaddar.
“Proof enough,” she says with a crooked smile. “You have my attention, jester. I am not easily intrigued, but you have managed it.” She laughs in a high musical voice.
“The boredom of the nobility,” Shaddar thinks, “It only leads to trouble.”
The woman places her hand palm-to-palm and asks, “So what do you want to know?”
“Tell me about the Lords.”
“Which ones?”
“How many are there?”
“In the Realm? I have no idea. I’ve lived my entire life here in Big City. I’m really of a fairly lowly station.”
Shaddar chuckles. “Very well. Then tell me all that one of your station would know about the Lords.”
“The Lords control everything. They are gods among these mortal insects.”
Shaddar laughs loud and long at this statement. Lady Weenakitha glares at the interruption and the irreverence he is displaying to her words.
“Excuse me,” Shaddar says without feeling, “I couldn’t help myself. Pray - continue.”
“Are you going to hear my answers?” she asks with a trace of venom in her tone, “Or will you be mocking all that I say?”
“Why not both?” Shaddar says expansively.
“In Big City, the Lords are organized in their hierarchy by their color and their sheen.”
“Naturally. And how many of each sheen are there in this city?”
“Three silver and a group of 4 clutchmates that are brass that were hatched here with great celebration 243 years ago.”
“No golden Lords?”
She barks a laugh. “None would stoop so low as to leave their place in the High City.”
“And what goes on there?”
“These are mysteries of the Lords,” she says with a smile. “Not spoken of and unknown by all except those of their number. Anything else?”
Shaddar stands still, tapping his chin with a tentacle as the rest slowly writhe.
She huffs, “Now what? You have killed my escort. Am I to be slaughtered by your fiendish visage as well?”
“Do you believe anything about my appearance?”
“Should I? It certainly doesn’t look like anything I’ve —”
Shaddar leans forward, “Yes?”
“Wait. I did see some images carved into the walls of the border zone that remind me of your features… And my escort,” she motions to the body of the knight, “seemed to recognize them and was troubled.”
“Troubled how?”
“I don’t know. Ask him,” she says wryly.
Shaddar chuckles. “You are rare company, Lady. I think that I will keep you here in case I have need of answers to more questions or I find myself in need of diversion. Very difficult to find in these parts, as you must know.” He motions to the hidden assassins and they seem to pour out of the walls. Lady Weenakitha does not look surprised or impressed. An interesting woman.
Barrityl and his men soon have the ambassador trussed up.
“To the dungeon with this low-born creature,” Shaddar commands.
“Will the old cesspit room work, great one? It’s what we use for our own criminals.”
“Perfect,” Shaddar says, staring into the unblinking and unconcerned eyes of his captive. “Try not to get your dress sullied, Lady.”
Chapter 1 < Chapter 59
Shaddar advises him to no longer risk himself in public. “If you deem the risk too great, then by all means, remain in the shadows. It does us no good for you to put yourself at risk needlessly.”
“I’m worried that this Guildmaster won’t know who to fight,” Hawke grumbles. “We don’t want her challenging me directly – that’d do us no good.”
“The Guildmaster will know us better soon enough, have no fear of that! Another good reason for you to blend in for a while.” Hakwe nods and leaves to arrange his new and lengthier communication chain.
“A ready-made patsy, should I find myself in need of one,” Shaddar thinks with morbid satisfaction. “Yes, I must keep my options open.”
Reports soon come in that the people have had enough – they have swarmed the palace and are demanding that something be done. The palace nobles are outraged at the lack of decorum on the part of the city residents. This is causing an ugly feeling in the crowd. Shaddar tells the messenger to have their forces do all they can to increase the level of unrest and the man dashes back out.
Shaddar does not have to wait long for the pace of events to pick up once again…
Barrityl approaches him and quietly informs Shaddar that interlopers are on their way down to the palace. Human interlopers.
“Armed?”
“Very. A knight and one other. I must tell you, great one, that this is unheard of. I did not know that any humans knew of this place.” He looks concerned and a bit anxious.
“It’s quite alright, Barrityl! I have been expecting their visit all morning. It is all wholly regular. Some of the humans will come down to visit the elders of the drow during periods of great stress,” Shaddar explains quietly. Barrityl is clearly very impressed at Shaddar’s knowledge of the inner workings of the Realm. Shaddar leans away from his master assassin and shouts, “Leave me! Exit this room at once! And someone bring me Yanivlitan!”
The drow and hobgoblins in the room rush to obey.
Once the room has cleared itself, Shaddar continues his commands to Barrityl. “See that they are ushered in to see me right away once they arrive at the palace. You and your Scalehunters will wait in the hidden room to the left. I will call if I have need of you.” The drow nods and slips from the room to assemble his men.
Shaddar summons his thralls mentally, telling them to drop what they are doing and attend him at once. They arrive with gratifying speed.
“Hide yourselves in the concealed room to the right,” he mentally commands. They leap to follow his wishes. Toothsnatcher makes sure his axe is loose in its holster with a grunt of satisfaction. Their thoughts are filled with delight at a coming diversion from their new duties.
Yanivlitan enters the now empty chamber with some trepidation.
“You require my presence, great one?”
Shaddar stands from the throne and motions the drow elder to sit. “Take the seat, chancellor. Word has reached my ears that emissaries from the lords of the city will be here soon to speak to you. No doubt they have questions about the truancy of the drow slaves. Receive them.”
The elderly drow hobbles uncertainly to the throne and sits. Shaddar motions with his tentacles to the back wall near the hidden opening to the right-hand listening-room.
“I will be here. Observing. At least for the first portion of their visit,” he explains gently. The panic on the face of the drow at the vague instructions is pleasing.
“Ah. Ah? What?” Yanivlitan sputters ineffectually. Shaddar raises an eyebrow.
The drow clears his throat and tries again, “What instructions do you have for me? How shall I act towards them?”
“Just… be yourself,” Shaddar murmurs.
“But how shall I answer them when they ask for an explanation of recent actions?”
Shaddar waggles a solitary tentacle at the fellow as he replies, “Precisely. I will be judging the quality and tone of your answers. The manner of their speech and their position is known to me, but yours? Well. We shall see. It will be of great use to me in determining your loyalty… and usefulness.”
“Oh,” whispers the terrified drow, “Good.”
Shaddar nods happily and retreats to his preselected location near the back wall to watch the coming festivities.
The churn he can detect in the frazzled mind of Yanivlitan is soothing and he feels quite relaxed by the time he detects the minds of his guests.
The knight opens the double doors grandly. The man is resplendent in his polished armor. A silken cape is draped over one shoulder and leaves his sword arm free and ready. His sword is glowing with magic, leaving wisps of light blue fire trailing behind him as he moves, even though the blade his sheathed. He moves with the easy grace of a lifetime spent honing his skills of combat.
Impressive as the knight is Shaddar is very interested to see that he steps aside to allow his companion to enter the chamber first.
It is a woman, garbed exquisitely in a shimmering gown that is dripping with tasteful jewels. A simple silver tiara adorns her brow. The self-confident and utterly calm demeanor places her as one of the nobility. Not merely acting as one, but one who has been born into a higher strata of social ability and comforts.
She strides into the center of the room and places on hand delicately on her hip.
The knight closes the door and bellows, “The Lady Weenakitha! Direct personal ambassador to His Excellency, Culderth’jura, High Lord of Big City! Hear her words and despair!” With this statement he spreads his feet, leans his hand on the pommel of his sword, and scowls. Clearly he intends to keep watch next to the door.
Lady Weenakitha dips her head slightly as she speaks, “Greetings to you, elder of the drow.” Her eyes dart to the empty thrones in the room. “Where are your companions, Yanivlitan?”
“They all have died of old age. Quite sudden it was,” Yanivlitan answers with sorrow. “I am the only elder at the moment - we wait for the next festival of the moon to select replacements for my old friends.”
“I am sorry for your loss.” The woman actually sounds like she could care less. Her face is like an image of polished marble for all of the compassion it displays. Shaddar is annoyed that he can not read her thoughts at all. Not even a hint. Perhaps she is using magic to protect herself? She is a total mystery to him since her control of her expressions matches the blankness of her mind to his senses. The knight is difficult to read, but at least his features are easy to read.
Yanivlitan takes this as a sign that his answer is satisfactory and continues, “It has been a great many years since we have been graced with a visit from the High Lord’s ambassadors. Is there some sort of problem?”
“You dare to feign ignorance! I shall — ” the knight roars. He stops as the woman’s hand whips into the air.
Lady Weenakitha steps forward two paces as she speaks, “Are you claiming ignorance of the actions of your people? We demand answers. If you do not have them…” Her voice trails off to allow the drow elder to fill in the blanks with his own imagination. And his fear is now readily apparent in his countenance. Shaddar wonders if the old fellow will have a heart attack soon.
“Have all of the drow suddenly become ill?” she asks coolly. “Is there a plague upon us which only effects your kind? For what other possible reason are all of your people not in their assigned places? Not performing their duties so given to them as a people by the grace of the Lords? What could cause the drow to forget the great favors that they owe? The everlasting oaths which their fathers took for themselves and all their children - oaths that allow them to live? Live and not be put to death as is fitting for wicked traitors to all life?” She pauses and tilts her head in a questioning pose. “Come. Speak.”
“The evil you speak of is a slander, Lady Weenakitha! You judge me and all of my people for the actions of those dead for thousands of years?”
She shrugs. “If I do, it does not matter. That is your place in the Realm.”
Yanivlitan seems to shrink into himself. “And I know it. I am grateful for the many boons of the Lords, do not doubt it.”
The woman allows half a heartbeat to pass before a curt request is given: “So?”
The drow elder says nothing. His thoughts show that he is at a total loss as to what he should say. He is terrified out of wits by the Lords of the Realm on one hand and Shaddar standing right behind him on the other.
Lady Weenakitha sighs. “Have you no explanation for the absence of the drow?”
“I’ll… I’ll have someone look into it,” he sputters, “This is the first I’ve heard of such things. No drow at their work, you say? Why, that’s outrageous! I’ll get right on this matter, Lady!”
She sniffs in displeasure and drums her fingers on her waist a single time.
A single slender brow lifts slightly on her face as she says, “Very well. I do, of course, have a few other minor concerns. If you have time to hear them?”
“O-o-of course, Lady Weenakitha!”
“Do you know, by chance, why the drow stonemasons have disobeyed their orders to keep the border zone pristine? The Lords enjoy the ascetics of a smooth transitional area between the halves of the city that represent the good and holy as well as the wicked and base. An ascetic, might I add, which has been totally ruined as of this morning. Indeed, I believe the High Lord himself called it a ‘walking nightmare’ upon returning from his morning constitutional.”
“I… don’t know what you speak of,” the drow elder begins. “I live down here and do not visit the upper world of Big City. I must send runners to find out what has happened at once. Have those lads been playing pranks again? Ha-ha! We shall discipline them most severely! Boys will be boys —”
“This is not a joke.” Her voice has gone thin and flat. Yanivlitan’s false laughter dies at once.
“You have been less than helpful, Yanivlitan,” Lady Weenakitha’s voice has a hint of disappointment in it. “Are you not the ruler of your people?”
“Well. Yes.”
“And do we not allow you great latitude in performing your labors and organizing yourselves?”
“Indeed. For which we are most grate—”
“And yet you see and know nothing...”
“Ask me something else,” suggests the drow elder helplessly. Shaddar thinks this is the most amusing thing he has heard of all day!
“Fine,” she says graciously. “I fear you will not know the answer this question either. But perhaps, despite the fact that you are completely insulated from the events of the ‘upper world’, as you call it, you will be able to illuminate me on another matter.” She sighs deeply. “Do you know who is responsible for the insult given to the Lords of the city?”
The confusion on Yanivlitan’s face is clear even from Shaddar’s limited perspective. The contrast between this look of ignorance and his earlier protestations is not lost of the ambassador either. Her eyes narrow ans Shaddar realizes that, entertaining and educational as this has been - the game is now ended.
Shaddar steps forward. “Perhaps I can be of assistance in answering this question.”
All eyes turn towards Shaddar. The knight wrinkles his nose in disgust at Shaddar’s face. The relief mingled with terror on the face of the drow elder is childlike in its evidence. The ambassador regards him with the same unsurprised calm that she has displayed for the entire time she has been in the room.
“Your jester claims to know the answers, Yanivlitan? Perhaps he should be elevated to your rank? Is this image one you dark elves find amusing? Such low tastes.”
Yanivlitan’s gaze moves between the woman and the illithid and his mouth works, but no sound issues forth.
Lady Weenakitha waves one hand towards Shaddar as she acquiesces, “Say on, Jester.”
“It is quite simple. You see: all of the events that have transpired of late have been at my behest. You wish answers? Then by all means ask at the source.”
“Your behest?” coughs the woman with a laugh.
“Yes,” Shaddar hisses. “You consider yourself an ambassador of the Lords of Big City, do you? Does this mean that you are now my ambassador? Surely it must be so, because this city... is… mine.”
“How dare you! Allow me to slay this fool, my Lady!” the knight yelps as he draws his growling blade.
Lady Weenakitha shakes her head slowly with a look of wonder on her face. “Outrageous,” she whispers. “Rightly I labeled you a jester - for one you must be.”
“Do you think so?” Shaddar whispers dangerously.
“You,” she says slowly, “claim to have done… all of this? The uproars? The insults? The violence and upset of our order?”
Shaddar leans back and tries to look modest, “Well! Not personally! I have many minions and underlings. Catspaws and pawns. So many things to set in motion, you see? I couldn’t possibly do them all by myself, no matter how enjoyable that might be.” His tentacles flare in challenge as he finishes, “But I am the conductor of this orchestra of mayhem - yes!”
“Indeed? Then tell me, mad orchestrator that you are… what proof do you offer of these claims? Surely you must know that your presentation and claims mark you as one deranged - not one to be taken seriously. And I do not believe in punishing those who are mad for the crime of being mad.”
“I hardly see what good proofs will do you, Lady,” Shaddar says grandly. “Since you will not be leaving this place to take them with you. I do not spend my time doing pointless favors. No. Instead, you will tell me the information that I require.”
Shaddar blasts both of the humans with his mind and is gratified to see their features go slack.
“Eventually,” he mummers. He wanders over to the knight and cuasully devours the man’s brain. His heavy corspe slams into the ground with a clatter of armored limbs and the sword goes spinning across the floor unused. How anti-climatic…
Shaddar turns to Yanivlitan and says in a bored tone of voice, “You are excused. Thank you.”
“Wha?” The drow elder seems to be having a difficult time catching his breath. “A knight! You killed him! I thought…”
“I know,” Shaddar says empathetically, “But such is my power that the knights, and even the lords, must fall before it. It is pointless for them to defy me. Just as it is pointless for you to defy me. You would do well to remember that… Now take your tatters of a plot against me and begone.”
Yanivlitan staggers, but manages to leave the room under his own power.
Shaddar dismisses his thralls and they leave the room. Toothsnatcher is grumbling that he never gets to have any fun as he pulls the door shut.
Shaddar remains alone with the stunned woman and awaits her revival patiently. When Lady Weenakitha does snap out of it the transition is sudden. She does not seem confused at all, but looks around herself attentively. She takes in the dead body of the knight in an instant and then returns her gaze to Shaddar.
“Proof enough,” she says with a crooked smile. “You have my attention, jester. I am not easily intrigued, but you have managed it.” She laughs in a high musical voice.
“The boredom of the nobility,” Shaddar thinks, “It only leads to trouble.”
The woman places her hand palm-to-palm and asks, “So what do you want to know?”
“Tell me about the Lords.”
“Which ones?”
“How many are there?”
“In the Realm? I have no idea. I’ve lived my entire life here in Big City. I’m really of a fairly lowly station.”
Shaddar chuckles. “Very well. Then tell me all that one of your station would know about the Lords.”
“The Lords control everything. They are gods among these mortal insects.”
Shaddar laughs loud and long at this statement. Lady Weenakitha glares at the interruption and the irreverence he is displaying to her words.
“Excuse me,” Shaddar says without feeling, “I couldn’t help myself. Pray - continue.”
“Are you going to hear my answers?” she asks with a trace of venom in her tone, “Or will you be mocking all that I say?”
“Why not both?” Shaddar says expansively.
“In Big City, the Lords are organized in their hierarchy by their color and their sheen.”
“Naturally. And how many of each sheen are there in this city?”
“Three silver and a group of 4 clutchmates that are brass that were hatched here with great celebration 243 years ago.”
“No golden Lords?”
She barks a laugh. “None would stoop so low as to leave their place in the High City.”
“And what goes on there?”
“These are mysteries of the Lords,” she says with a smile. “Not spoken of and unknown by all except those of their number. Anything else?”
Shaddar stands still, tapping his chin with a tentacle as the rest slowly writhe.
She huffs, “Now what? You have killed my escort. Am I to be slaughtered by your fiendish visage as well?”
“Do you believe anything about my appearance?”
“Should I? It certainly doesn’t look like anything I’ve —”
Shaddar leans forward, “Yes?”
“Wait. I did see some images carved into the walls of the border zone that remind me of your features… And my escort,” she motions to the body of the knight, “seemed to recognize them and was troubled.”
“Troubled how?”
“I don’t know. Ask him,” she says wryly.
Shaddar chuckles. “You are rare company, Lady. I think that I will keep you here in case I have need of answers to more questions or I find myself in need of diversion. Very difficult to find in these parts, as you must know.” He motions to the hidden assassins and they seem to pour out of the walls. Lady Weenakitha does not look surprised or impressed. An interesting woman.
Barrityl and his men soon have the ambassador trussed up.
“To the dungeon with this low-born creature,” Shaddar commands.
“Will the old cesspit room work, great one? It’s what we use for our own criminals.”
“Perfect,” Shaddar says, staring into the unblinking and unconcerned eyes of his captive. “Try not to get your dress sullied, Lady.”
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