Tag Archives: Sidewinder

Bonus # 17: Judgment and Justice, part 4

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Selim’s cell had a better view than some drow families, which both provided a way to get him out and presented the largest obstacle. Extracting him through the house itself was not possible, not without explaining what he was doing with the slave (which he couldn’t), so they would have to go through the window. The family’s apartments in House Vyendir’s hold were along the wall overlooking the agricultural cavern, a position which had long been Vrashti’s greatest source of pride, at least until she acquired the human. The cells were below the family’s chambers, but still several stories above the cavern floor. Also, while it might be night for the Imperials, it was just the second dayshift for Narisians, and personnel from House Dalmiss and who knew what other visitors were about in the agricultural caverns, where they would surely observe someone climbing a wall and breaking open a barred window.

No amount of wracking his brain produced any means of climbing the wall and opening the window unseen. As the Gray Cleric had suggested, Tazun approached the problem from the standpoint of the tools and abilities he could secure and use easily. His first thought was stonecloth, which as an established crafter he could obtain from the markets without arousing interest. It was just that: a form of cloth which resembled stone enough to fool even elvish eyes—when draped. This was commonly used as a backdrop for various displays, and he already owned some small swatches. He could maybe hide the window with it, but could think of no use for that, and it would be no help in reaching the window. A patch of stone shaped like a cloaked person climbing a wall would probably bring soldiers faster than just the sight of a man doing so.

Unfortunately, his ideas only went downhill from there, to the point that he was seriously considering making a couple of stonecloth cloaks and hoping nobody in the entirety of the agricultural caverns happened to so much as glance at the entrance, where Houses Vyendir and Dalmiss bracketed the main path from the city proper. In which case it was starting to look like his best option would be to just climb the wall and throw himself off.

Distracted by his ruminations as he paced through the streets, Tazun quite literally stumbled upon the answer. Not paying attention to where he was going, he had to bring himself to an awkwardly sudden halt to avoid plowing into a city drudge refreshing the glowstalks lining a market street. He apologized effusively, as his carelessness demanded, and the woman answered him with a diffident nod and murmured acknowledgment, as was proper given their respective stations and the circumstance.

And he suddenly realized that there was more than one kind of invisibility. The eyes of elves were hard to fool, but Narisians were accustomed to deliberately ignoring one another—so long as the person they saw was doing what they were expected to do.

In the end, Tazun had to practically beggar himself, unloading all his finished pieces to a wholesaler at well below their value for the sake of making the sale quickly, and even to part with much of his stock of raw materials and, more painfully yet, tools.

Much as that hurt, the reality was that he would be all but finished in Tar’naris once this business was done with,anyway. He hadn’t yet gotten as far in his thinking as planning what to do next, in large part because he was afraid to consider it. To betray one’s mother and family in this manner merited disownment at the least; Vrashti was not cruel, but she could be temperamental, and he wasn’t sure how much it would matter that he had been heavily coerced into this. To her, or to him, since his own conscience supported freeing Selim, and he didn’t think he would be able to lie to her during the inevitable confrontation. Maybe he could go to House Awarrion and demand some compensation for the hardship. Nahil, he suspected, would lack sympathy, but Matriarch Ashaele had a reputation as a reasonable woman, as did her elder daughter Heral. Or, forgotten hells, maybe he should just go to live with the humans. A mother betrayer would find Tar’naris a hostile place to live once word spread.

Obtaining clothes suitable for a workman was easy and inexpensive; what demanded most of his worldly resources was the scaffold. A traditional one would take far too long to erect, assuming such was even physically possible for one man working alone. Quite apart from the deadline set upon him by Sidewinder, the longer he was messing about on the wall, the likelier a patrolling soldier or agent of House Vyendir would come along and demand to know what he was doing and who had authorized it—and many of the second group would recognize him. Thus, he had to rent a levitating work platform, an import from the surface. The good news was that it doubled as its own cart; the bad was the price. Tazun was keenly and irritably aware that he was paying, with his life’s work and savings, for novelty and transport costs. The thing had probably cost a lot less for some enchanting factory in Tiraas to make than the wood and metal of a standard scaffold would have in Tar’naris.

At least it was easy enough to control. Before he could believe it was happening, he and his rented platform—piled not only with the tools and supplies he needed but some loose masonry he had picked up to complete the disguise—were at the base of the wall outside House Vyendir’s residence, peering upward to count windows. He blessed the peace and cooperation of Tar’naris. In any Scyllithene city, and in many human ones from what he’d heard, a noble House would have such guards on its premises that getting near any exterior window, much less a prison cell, would require nothing less than a full-scale invasion. As it was, his main concern was ensuring he had picked the right cell to which to ascend. There weren’t so many that were walled by bars, and after living here his entire life, he could identify the one by mentally reconstructing what the window arrangement in his family’s apartment would look like from the outside. If he was wrong, he was about to have an embarrassing encounter—and hopefully no worse than that.

He’d been right, though, about invisibility. Two patrolling soldiers passed him while he was maneuvering the scaffold into position under the window; both glanced curiously at him, but didn’t address him or even slow. He was half surprised they couldn’t hear the thudding of his heart. Another woman came by in the opposite direction almost as soon as they were gone, a member of House Vyendir from a family who lived not far from Tazun’s own. He had known her his whole life, albeit not closely, and she would certainly have recognized him, had she bothered to look at his face. She did not. A man in low-caste clothes doing base work clearly did not merit so much as a glance. Grateful as he was, Tazun was beginning to feel remorseful for how he’d treated drudges all his life.

The device rose smoothly and slowly once directed by the control rune, the soft hum of its levitation charms rising in intensity until it would probably be audible even to a human. Despite his initial unease, it did not wobble, list, or in any way indicate that it wasn’t moving on solid rails, and Tazun found himself impressed as he had never been with human enchanting work. It didn’t rise quickly, of course, but that was probably for the best. Reaching the level of the cell window took only a few minutes.

Then he was there, and it was time.

He was just just pressing his face to the bars to verify that this was the right place when Selim’s eyes appeared right in front of his own, startling him so badly that for a moment he feared he was about to fall.

“Whoah, take it easy,” the human said in some alarm when Tazun slumped against the outer wall, panting and pressing a hand to his heart. “Also…hi? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I could swear the door’s on the other side of the room.”

“Yes, yes, you are hilarious,” Tazun growled. “I’m breaking you out, obviously. Get back from the bars. The only silent way to remove them involves acid, which you do not want to touch.”

Selim obediently move back, but his dark eyes remained fixed on his rescuer while Tazun very, very carefully moved the bottle of stone softener he had purchased into place. Its mouth was designed for precise pouring, and he set about very carefully dabbing it around the base of each of the five vertical bars set in the open window. The stone immediately began to sizzle and steam; he had been assured the resulting gas was not toxic or dangerous, but averted his face anyway. Safety aside, the smell was sharp and unpleasant.

Applying a liquid would not work on the upper surface, so a different approach was necessary to remove the bars at the top. After considering his options, Tazun had ultimately decided not to. Rather than working on their stone housing, he once again resorted to Tiraan enchantment. The charm torch was something he had been eying with envy for quite a while, but could never justify the expense as it was clearly designed for larger applications of very hard metals, and thus not particularly useful to a jeweler. Its heatless flame would reduce metal temporarily to a malleable state. Really, with gadgets like these available, the things humans must be able to build now…

But it wasn’t time for that yet. Once the stone softener was all correctly applied and the bottle securely (very securely) re-corked and set aside, he began setting up the poles and tarp that would shield the scaffold from outside view. People would not bother with a workman mucking about on the wall, but somebody climbing out of a barred window would raise an outcry if anyone in the cavern below happened to notice it.

“Why are you doing this?” Selim asked quietly, and Tazun sighed. Well, it was an obvious question, after all.

“It is the right thing to do,” he said simply, keeping his eyes on his work. The scaffold was cleverly designed, with slots along its side and base meant to hold poles for various purposes. Assembling the improvised awning wasn’t difficult at all.

Selim left him alone for half a minute before responding, in such a tone that Tazun could hear his grin. “The Guild got to you, didn’t they?”

“My people are not as hard of hearing as yours,” Tazun retorted. “The less talking, the better.”

“All right, all right,” the human said peaceably. “Look…whatever they did or didn’t do, I’m still grateful as hell for this. I’m pretty sure you bringing me the food was all your own idea, right?”

Tazun sighed as he lashed the last edge of the tarp in place. “Yes. And yes, the Guild reached me. Them and House Awarrion.” Satisfied it was solidly in position, he turned to meet Selim’s curious gaze. “And it is still the right thing to do. I am only shamed that it took outside pressures to spur me into acting.”

Selim nodded. “I get that. Look… Respect for your mother is a big deal in your culture, right?”

“The biggest deal,” Tazun said, sorely tempted to let some of his emotion past his public face, just to slap the man with it. “Some might argue the only deal.”

He nodded again, his own face serious. “Then what you’re doing is a hell of a thing, in your position. Seriously, my friend, I will owe you hugely for this. I’d shake your hand, but…y’know.” He grinned, stepped back, and bowed. “I’m Selim Darousi.”

“Also known as Squirreltail, I’m aware,” Tazun replied, bowing back. “Tazun tyl Vrashti n’dar Vyendir. Possibly the last time I will be able to introduce myself as such… All right, stand back, please.”

The stone softener was no longer smoking, which was supposed to signal that its work was done. With an awl he had acquired more for camouflage than because he expected to use it, Tazun prodded at the base of one iron bar, and found that it was set in a clumpy mixture of sand and dust.

“Hey, that is a neat trick,” Selim observed, sounding fascinated.

“Indeed,” Tazun agreed, picking up the charm torch. “This one is neater. Assuming it works.”

“Let’s hope for that, yeah. What’s it do?”

Rather than answering, he held its nozzle in place and pressed his thumb to the rune atop its handle. The nozzle glowed. Supposedly, that was all it should be doing, but it seemed wrong; there was no visible change in the state of the iron at the top.

After a few seconds, though, he deactivated the torch, grasped the bar, and pushed. It shifted inward easily, the loosened base giving away without effort and the point at the top where he’d applied the charm flexed like a mushroom stalk.

“You, sir, are a genius,” Selim marveled.

“Whoever designed this device was a genius,” Tazun corrected. “I am a craftsman. To my mind, that’s just as good.”

“Man, from my position I’m not about to argue.”

“All right, we’ll bend the bars inward, not out; less likely they’ll be noticed that way, at least until someone comes to check on you. I’ll use the torch, you pull; the faster this is done, the better.”

“You got it.”

It turned out he had been overly generous with the charm torch. With Selim pulling on the bars as soon as he applied it, they started shifting almost immediately—not as easily as the first one, but the iron became flexible enough after only a second’s application for the human’s superior strength to bend it. Between them, they had the rest of the bars out of the way in barely a minute.

Defacing ironwork in House Vyendir. Someone was likely to take this as a personal insult. Well, someone in addition to his poor mother.

Tazun chanced a glance down at the floor of the cave through one of the thin gaps in the folded tarp. He could see people moving about in the cultivated fields beyond, but no one was nearby.

“The stone softener should be inert by now,” he said, “but all the same, try to grip the edge away from the places where it was used.”

“There’s not much away to grip,” Selim said doubtfully. “My hands are bigger than yours.”

“Ah. Here.” Tazun swiftly pulled off the heavy work gloves he’d worn to protect his own hands from the acid. They were overlarge and bulky on him, enough that they fit the human’s hands adequately.

Selim’s exit through the window was utterly human: he had significant upper body strength and had no problem hoisting himself up and over, but wriggling through was so awkward it almost hurt to watch, and he tumbled gracelessly to the platform once past the opening. Fortunately the scaffold’s hovering charms were top quality; it remained as steady as the living rock of the cave. Nonetheless, Tazun glanced worriedly at the glass tube of enchanting dust next to the control runes. Still mostly full. The thing was designed to stay up all day, after all.

The Eserite was back on his feet in a bound, though, grinning hugely and drawing in a deep breath through his nose. “Freedom!”

“Not nearly,” Tazun said curtly. “And keep your voice down. That was the easy part; the city won’t be as simple to escape.” He opened the lid of the large tool chest he had purchased, which was sitting, empty, next to the pile of unused stone.

“Please tell me you have a plan for getting out of town,” Selim said, his expression suddenly worried.

“I don’t,” Tazun replied, “but I’ve made arrangements to get you to the Imperial enclave. I have friends among the soldiers there. They will have to get you the rest of the way; I assume they have the resources. Getting there will be the fun part. Into the box, please.”

Selim winced, staring at the open chest. “Oh…hell. Just when I thought I was done being cooped up…”

“Maybe you’d like it back in your cell?”

“All right, all right, I’m going.” Despite his grudging tone, the thief grinned at him as he clambered into the chest. “Did you remember to poke air holes in this?”

“The lid isn’t airtight, I checked,” Tazun said. “Hurry, please, you need to be out of sight before I can pull the tarp down.”

“You really do think of everything, huh?” Selim replied. “Seriously, this is a well-planned job. You’d make a pretty good thief.”

“I am a craftsman,” Tazun retorted, indulging in the smallest measure of audible rancor as he pushed the lid down on the folded human. At least Selim was flexible; he’d been a little worried about cramming him into the chest, but it stood to reason that a thief would be able to bend.

He worked as quickly as he could without impairing his hand-eye coordination, or seeming to be in haste. There was no good reason for a mason performing wall repairs to be in a hurry, and he didn’t want attention. Even so, it was only a few minutes later that they were drifting to rest at the base of the wall, the scaffold’s hover charm bringing it a few feet short of the ground.

Tazun was beginning to worry about Selim; there was no sound of protest from within the chest, but it occurred to him that at the speed this thing moved, the trip to the Imperial enclave might be worse than merely uncomfortable. He couldn’t check on his passenger at the moment, though, because a drow man was approaching along the wall, hands folded demurely at his waist and moving in a stately glide that suited his expensive robes.

Tazun didn’t recognize him as a member of House Vyendir, but obviously he didn’t know them all; he stepped back off the path to the side of his scaffold and bowed low, both in keeping with his role of a low-caste workman, and to hide his face.

The man stopped in front of him, and his heart plummeted. Keeping his face neutral as always, he straightened up. “Well met.”

The drow grinned broadly and winked at him, replying in Tanglish. “Well, right back atcha, Taz. See, I knew you could do it! You just needed a little push, is all.”

He could only gape at him.

The lid of the chest rose a few inches. “I know that voice,” Selim said from within, peeking out. “Sidewinder? You’re the one who leaned on this poor guy? You should be ashamed.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” the drow with Sidewinder’s voice said cheerfully. “You don’t even know what I did. Does he?” he asked, turning to Tazun, who just stared.

“I don’t need to know,” Selim retorted. “You should always be ashamed. General principles.”

“Well, I can’t really argue with that, I guess!”

“What are you doing here?” Tazun hissed, finally finding his voice. He glanced furtively up and down the wall. No one was within drow earshot.

“Oh, come on, you didn’t really think I was going to leave you to handle something like this all on your lonesome,” Sidewinder replied with a total lack of remorse. “Actually, I’m quite impressed with the plan you put together, kid. This is almost Guild-quality work—you’ve got care and a good eye for detail. But I made damn sure to be nearby in case you needed backup, just the same. But enough about that!” He stepped up onto the platform and knelt, holding out a silver ring to Selim. “Squirreltail, will you marry me?”

“Aww,” Selim cooed, grinning madly, “you always did know how to make a lady feel special!”

Tazun stared at them, nonplussed. Based on their jocular tone, this had to be human humor. In Tar’naris, a man referring to himself as a lady was asking to be kicked in the jewels. Tazun didn’t bother to dwell on that, though, watching in disbelief as Selim slipped the ring onto his own forefinger and transformed instantly into another well-dressed drow man.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t forget you,” Sidewinder said to Tazun, offering him another identical ring.

He didn’t move to take it. “But…I’m already a drow.”

“Yes,” Sidewinder said patiently. “You are a specific drow, who will quite shortly be much sought after to give explanations that I’m sure you don’t want to. For now, and until we reach the enclave, were just three perfectly ordinary and anonymous Narisian lads out for a walk.”

“Take it,” Selim advised, climbing down to street level. “He’s right, this’ll draw much less attention than this hover-cart. I don’t think these things are all that common here. Honestly, they’re not even that common topside.”

Tazun sighed, but accepted the ring and put it on. The illusion had no physical sensation, but looking down at himself was discomfiting nonetheless. His illusory identity was much wealthier than he, to judge by the quality of his robes… But Tazun was comfortable with his own body and identity. He’d felt it under enough attack lately without turning against it like this.

But it was what it was, and the humans were right. This was a better extraction plan than his own.

As they made their casual way toward the gate back into Tar’naris proper, he glanced back once at the hovering cart, abandoned at the base of the wall. It would quickly reveal exactly what had happened here, and also this was a breach of his contract with its owner. But more than that, it represented everything Tazun had ever had.

Everything he was leaving behind.

The response was indeed swift, but not swift enough.

“Tazun d’what, now?” Corporal Hayes asked innocently. The door to the antechamber of the barracks had been left cracked just wide enough that those inside could hear the conversation without. Other soldiers chattered and went about their business in the background, obscuring any small sounds Tazun’s group might make. As he understood it, it was yet early for the soldiers to be up; he didn’t know what relationship the Thieves’ Guild had with the military, but clearly the squadron were very sympathetic to Selim’s plight.

He, Tazun, Elin, and Sidewinder all clustered as silently as possible against the wall behind which Hayes sat at his desk, dealing with the House Vyendir representative who had appeared only moments previously, just barely too late to catch them.

“Tazun tyl Vrashti n’dar Vyendir,” the drow said tonelessly. “Vrashti’s son; she is also the owner of an escaped slave who is being sought. He might answer to the name Salaam Drushti. The diplomatic officer on duty in the main compound suggested you might know something of this.”

Selim rolled his eyes; Sidewinder grinned so widely it appeared he might hurt his face.

“Oh, do you mean Selim Darousi?” Hayes said innocently. “Sure, he’s here. Poor guy’s had kind of a hard day, as I understand it. I don’t know anything about any Tayzon, though, sorry.”

“That man is a duly tried and convicted criminal,” the Vyendir representative said calmly. “Per the terms of our treaty, you are obligated to immediately return him to his purchaser’s lawful custody.”

“Per the terms of our treaty,” Hayes replied, “he is entitled to contest his conviction and sentencing and have the matter reviewed by Tiraan diplomats. Apparently he was not only specifically denied this right at trial, but by some unfortunate mix-up was moved around so quickly afterward that the ambassador’s office wasn’t able to track him down to his current location. How very fortunate that he turned up here, eh? We wouldn’t want Miss Vrashti to be owning a Tiraan citizen under improper circumstances. How very embarrassing that would be.”

There was a short pause.

“All transfers of slave contracts are thoroughly reviewed by House Vyendir’s solicitors before being ratified,” the representative said finally. “If any impropriety occurred, it is not the fault of Vrashti or her House. Unless the slave is returned, she will require and is entitled to expect monetary compensation for his loss and for all associated inconveniences.”

“Well, that’s fine,” Hayes said equably. “She can file a grievance with the ambassador’s office. I’m reasonably confident there will be no unfortunate mix-ups with that paperwork. Our clerks are very dedicated to taking proper care of rich drow who clearly think of our entire species as cattle. Meanwhile, Selim Darousi is under the protection of this embassy, and no one’s getting a brass penny for any inconvenience they’ve suffered by abducting him.”

“Please be careful, Corporal,” the drow said tonelessly. “An accusation of abduction can have serious consequences.”

“An abduction itself can have serious consequences,” Hayes replied gravely.

“Corporal, I find that you are being unnecessarily confrontational about this matter, and will be discussing that with your superiors in the embassy, as well.”

“I wish you the very best of luck with that.”

“I strongly advise, sir, that you cooperate with the law and treaty. If Vrashti does not receive satisfaction in one form or another, she may well pursue this matter in person. I assure you, sir, you do not want that.”

“I assure you, sir, you are mistaken.” Hayes’s voice had suddenly gone cold. “This Vrashti has deliberately abused the spirit of the treaty to even more personally abuse a Tiraan citizen for her own personal gain. I would love nothing more that for her to show her face here. After I’ve punched her in the teeth, she can learn firsthand about crooked trials where witnesses only saw what they’re told to have seen. I think that would be a valuable lesson in empathy for her.”

Selim looked serenely smug, while Sidewinder was physically struggling to control his laughter. Elin, though, had reached over to grab Tazun’s wrist, squeezing it comfortingly and gazing up into his eyes, her expression serious and sympathetic. He had, in fact, made a reflexive jerk toward the door at the direct threat to his mother, but just as quickly got himself back under control. With a soft sigh, he nodded to her, and did not pull his hand away.

“Threatening a well-ranked lady of Tar’naris can have very severe consequences, Corporal,” the representative said in the same even tone. “I assure you, I will be reporting every detail of this conversation to the requisite authorities in both your government and mine.”

“I’m sorry, threatening who?” Hayes asked innocently. “Private Shaffar, did you hear someone threatening a lady of Tar’naris?”

“Sorry, sir,” the other soldier present replied, her tone overtly smug. “Didn’t catch that. You know how poor human hearing is.”

Another silence fell.

“Thank you for your time, Corporal.”

“Drop by anytime!” Hayes said brightly. “The door is always open to our very good and trusted friends in House Vyendir!”

Sidewinder managed to wait until the heavy outer door had boomed shut after the representative before collapsing in laughter. Selim just sad back on one of the soldiers’ bunks, smiling beatifically.

“You okay, Taz?” Elin asked softly, still holding his wrist and watching his face.

“Not really,” he admitted. “All right…not even remotely. I have no idea what’s going to happen to me know… But, for all of that, I feel…very satisfied.” He looked over at Selim, who nodded deeply to him. “This was a good thing. I’m glad to have been a part of it.”

A warm smile spread across Elin’s face. It was the most beautiful thing he recalled seeing in the last week.

“Well, I’m glad you’re all enjoying yourselves,” Hayes said dryly, pushing through the door into the barracks. “Right now we need to make some plans concerning what to do with all of you. Darousi, how quickly do you think you’ll be able to travel?”

“Can’t wait to get rid of me, huh, Corporal?” Selim asked with a grin.

The soldier grunted, but his expression remained amiable. “I’ve checked in with a few sympathetic ears in the diplomatic corps while we were waiting to see if you lot made it back. They’re reasonably confident there’s no risk of you having to be returned to this Vrashti, now that you’re back in Imperial hands, but with bureaucrats it’s always better safe than sorry. Once you’re out of Tar’naris, that drops to no chance. Even if House Vyendir is willing to pursue the matter past the borders, House Awarrion won’t help, and the Imperial authorities would completely blow off a claim like this. So, the sooner you’re out of town, the safer.”

“Right,” Selim said, getting to his feet. “In that case, I feel ready to embark on my next adventure this very moment!”

“You may want to scrounge up a shirt, first,” Elin said wryly.

“Bah, they’ve got shirts in Fort Vaspian,” Selim said cheerfully, turning back to Tazun. “Well, my friend, it seems Sidewinder and I are going to be out of your hair before I have the chance to pay you back for this. Don’t think that means I’ll forget it, because you have my word, that’ll never happen. I owe you big.”

“Actually,” Sidewinder said lazily, “you’ve got that the wrong way ’round. I still have some business in Tar’naris, but our good buddy Taz will be heading back to Tiraas with you.”

Selim blinked. “Oh?”

“What?” Tazun frowned at him. “I am? Since when?”

“Well, guess this is as good a time as any,” Sidewinder said, straightening up from his slouch. “C’mon, Taz, let’s have a quick word somewhere private.”


“You don’t have to do anything, Tazun,” Elin said firmly. The look she directed at Sidewinder made him reconsider the relationship between the Guild and the military.

“Now, what do you take me for?” the thief said reproachfully. “Taz here has just gone way out on a limb to do an Eserite an enormous favor, at considerable risk and cost to himself. The hell we’re just gonna throw that away! The Guild takes care of its friends, but, you know how it is. There are some aspects of our business that aren’t for audiences.”

“I don’t know if I like the sound of that…” Tazun said, frowning harder.

“You should be fine,” said Hayes, glancing between them. “It’s usually best to hear Eserites out when they want something, Tazun, and even if he meant you harm, he wouldn’t do anything here. You gentlemen can borrow the sarge’s office for a bit.”

“Nobody has any faith in me,” Sidewinder complained. “That’s what’s wrong with the world.”

Elin shifted her grip to Tazun’s hand, and squeezed it, looking questioningly up at him. He squeezed back, nodded to her again, and somewhat reluctantly let go.

The office was at the opposite end of the barracks; the other soldiers glanced at them curiously in passing, but didn’t address them. Moments later, Sidewinder was shutting the door, closing them into the small, neatly organized space.

“Now, here’s the slightly awkward fact of the matter,” the thief said in a cheerful tone, strolling around behind the sergeant’s desk and helping himself to a seat. “Getting Squirreltail out was a big part of the operation, yes, but not the whole deal.”

“What’s the whole deal?” Tazun asked suspiciously.

“Well, you see, our good friends over at House Awarrion are very concerned with this slave trade; they want to lean hard on the people benefiting from it. And that aligns very nicely with the Guild’s own goals. Eserites, you see, don’t just steal; we have a religious obligation to deliver humility and comeuppance to people who abuse their power or wealth at the expense of others. Stealing your mother’s prized possession was only half the response to her enslaving a member of the Guild. The other half is delivering pain.”

Tazun clenched his fists, taking an impulsive step forward and glaring openly. “If you even dare—”

“Shut the hell up.” Sidewinder had his feet propped up on the desk, now, and his hands behind his head, but despite his lazy posture, his face was suddenly hard and cold. And something in his eyes warned Tazun not to attempt what he’d been about to. “Let me make this clear to you, kid: you are not being asked for anything. I’m tellin’ you how it is. And how it is is this: your mother is going to suffer for what she did. Now, it seems to me the easiest and most convenient way is for her to lose her son. So, you will be going back to Tiraas with Squirreltail, where the Guild will make good on its debt to you by helping you settle in as generously as possible, and Vrashti will be told that we’ve brought you to an excruciating end. While she mourns that, the story will leak across the whole city, and even before we start working on the next knife-eared fucker who thinks humans exist for their amusement, people will start reconsidering this whole ‘slaving’ thing.”

“You can’t possibly think I’ll help you in this,” Tazun snapped. “There is nothing you can say or do to make me hurt my mother!”

Sidewinder actually laughed at him. “Ahh, you poor, dumb kid. I kinda love how you drow have grown up not knowing about the Guild; there’s a freshness to this whole experience. Did you know, Tazun, that there’s actually a slave trade in the Empire? It’s true. And it’s pretty much exactly like the one in Tar’naris in every particular. We’ve got industry, enchantment, golems…nobody needs slaves for any legitimate purpose. Only people who have ’em are rich fuckheads who just get off on the power of it. Collectors…mostly of the rare, and exotic.” He smiled blandly. “Do you know what a well-bred, attractive drow woman—like, oh, let’s say, your sister Syraal—is worth on the right market?”

Tazun stared at him in frozen horror.

Very slowly, Sidewinder straightened up, lowering his hands and tucking his feet back under the desk. His expression fell flat again, until he was staring up at Tazun with eyes as predatory and unfeeling as a snake’s.

“I do.”

He held Tazun’s gaze for another long moment, then stood and stepped back around the desk to pass him and grasp the doorknob.

“Go to Tiraas, Tazun,” he said calmly. “Start your new life. Enjoy it. As thanks for your help, I’m giving you the opportunity to help us stick it to your mother without actually harming your family. If you don’t want to accommodate me in that, well…” He shrugged, again wearing that friendly smile. “I’ve gotta tell you, I don’t care all that much one way or the other.”

Sidewinder opened the door and strolled out, whistling.

By the time Tazun collected himself and returned to the others, Sidewinder had been and gone, and somebody had given Selim a shirt. Elin was watching him approach with open worry; he double-checked his public face, and found it mostly intact. Enough to pass general muster in Narisian society, but…

“What happened?” Elin demanded as soon as he was close enough for conversation. “What did he say?”

“I…” Tazun paused, swallowed heavily, and squared his shoulders. “He, um, made a pretty good case. What with the trouble I’ll be in here, going to Tiraas is probably my best bet. He said the Thieves’ Guild would help me, you know, settle in.”

“Hell yes they will,” Selim affirmed, nodding emphatically. “I will personally pull every string I can reach to make it happen—but honestly, Tazun, it won’t be hard. For the kind of favor you did for me, and for us, the Guild won’t be skimpy with its gratitude. Hell, I’ll talk with the Bishop, he loves helping interesting new people.”

“Tazun.” Elin’s voice was both insistent and gentle. She stepped forward, taking both his hands in her own. “Are you okay?”

“I’m. I.” He swallowed again, and forced a smile. “Of course I am. I mean, apart from…that is you know…”

“I know,” she said softly. “But you look less okay than when you went in there with that man.”

“It’s just,” he said lamely, “the stress…”

“Threatened your family, didn’t he?” Selim said. Tazun whipped his gaze to the thief, and he sighed. “Yeah… Sidewinder is a creatively vicious piece of shit, Taz. Soon as I saw he was the one they’d sent, I had a feeling this was gonna end very badly for someone.”

“Oh, my gods,” Elin whispered, eyes widening.

“Let me guess,” Selim continued grimly. “You get to go peacefully to Tiraas and he tells your mother we slit your throat, right? To punish her. Otherwise someone’s actual throat gets slit.”

Tazun clenched his jaw, not trusting himself to form words. He managed to nod.

And then suddenly Elin was in his arms, her face buried in his shoulder, squeezing him firmly.

Selim shook his head. “He’s got the Guild’s backing and I can’t contradict him here. But I’ll tell you what. Soon as we hit Tiraas, we’ll have a telescroll sent to Fort Vaspian and make sure your mother’s notified you’re okay.”

For the first time in all this madness oddly, Tazun found himself wanting to actually cry. “You’d do that? Go against your own Guild, for…”

“Not for her,” Selim said firmly. “I mean no offense, but I’ve got ample reason not to give a damn about that woman.”

“I can certainly understand that,” Tazun agreed.

“But,” the thief continued, reaching past Elin’s shoulder to place a hand on Tazun’s, “for you, my friend? If I can do it, you name it.”

“Thank you,” Tazun managed, nodding.

Elin finally pulled back, looking up at him earnestly. “All right, look. My tour’s up really soon, just three months. I was going to re-enlist, but screw it. I’ll come back to Tiraas.”

“Elin,” he protested, “please don’t upset your career! Your own life—”

She had to stand on her toes to kiss him, but he found himself as firmly silenced as he had ever been in his life. And, also, suddenly keenly conscious of her scent, of the feel of her in his arms…

Selim cleared his throat after a few long (but not long enough) moments, and finally they parted.

“Sometimes,” Elin said softly, giving him a brilliant smile and reaching up to lay one hand on his cheek, “you have to do the reckless thing.”

“I think,” he replied, allowing himself to smile right back, “I’ve recently learned that lesson very well.”

“It’ll be great!” Selim said cheerfully. “We’ll arrange a place for you in Lor’naris—not that you have to live there in particular, but it’ll probably be the easiest place to start when you’re getting settled in.”

“Lor’naris?” Tazun said, turning to frown quizzically at him. He’d never heard that contraction before; it translated as “faraway home.”

“The drow district in Tiraas,” Elin explained.

“There’s a drow district?” he exclaimed.

“Sort of,” Selim said, grinning. “I’ll give you the whole history on the ride there. But yeah, we’ll set you up with a place and whatever you need to get started as a jeweler there. Hell, you’ll be richer than me within a year—I bet they don’t see a lot of authentic Narisian jewelry in the capital.” His smile relaxed slightly, becoming a less enthusiastic but warmer expression, and he squeezed Tazun’s shoulder. “This is a hell of a thing right now, I know, but I promise you, friend. You’re going to be okay.”

Tazun subtly tightened his grip on Elin, feeling her squeeze him back even as she gave him that blinding smile he had come to love so much. “You know… I think you’re right. I actually will.”

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Bonus #15: Judgment and Justice, part 2

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Author’s Note: This is a continuation  of a side story which began quite a while ago.  Here is its first installment, if you need a refresher.

“It is not so bad,” Elin said, in her thickly accented and slightly halting elvish. “For the part mostly, the peoples are no in argument. Very much was changed by the Enchanter Wars. Before, it was always nations to their own, even inside the Empire. Then the wars, when it was fighting about principle. About freedom, and survival. Both to break away from Tiraas, and then after, to be together again with a same enemy. But yes, that is also a reason why it is harder for the Stalweiss. They remember, everyone is known, the Stalweiss were the barbarians from the stories, scary and savage. And then they are people who brought Horsebutt the Enemy, moving down from the Stalrange into the Plains. No one is forget.”

“I see,” Tazun murmured.

“So, one Empire, people all together, but still we have a bad…um…remembrance? Knowing thing…”


“Reputation, yes!” She nodded. “Not fair, but that is life. Anyway, it is not very bad. I am a soldier, which is respect, and I really am Tiraan. My accent and all. Very few people have care that I am pale and yellow-hair. Once in a while, though, you meet stupid ones. Always annoying! I am raised in Madouris, I go to an Imperial school, I join the Emperor’s army and wear the uniform, and still drunk fool calls me barbarian in the marketplace. Worthless people are in every country, I think.”

“That’s good to hear.”

There was a brief pause.

“I suppose being our own fault,” she went on seriously. “Because we Stalweiss are secretly vegetables. Our parents plant us in the ground like turnips, and up we pop in the spring!”

“That makes sense.”

More silence.

Suddenly Tazun realized what she had said and tore his gaze from the blank wall on the other side of the compound’s courtyard to look at her. Elin was staring at him with lips pursed and one eyebrow upraised. He had grown relatively comfortable with these public displays of emotion, but the sight of one he’d so often seen from his sisters in the family quarters was jarring. Especially since he knew what came afterward. Fortunately, he also knew how to address it.

Tazun stood smoothly, setting his jewelry case aside, turned to face Elin directly, and bowed. “I deeply apologize for my rudeness, Elin. Your accounts truly are interesting. I’m very sorry; I am simply not terribly good company today. I assure you, it has nothing to do with you. You have my regret for spoiling our conversation with my own troubles.”

“Wow,” she said in Tanglish, with clear amusement. “That was downright effusive. Did you learn that from an Awarrion friend?”

“No,” he replied. “I have sisters.”

Elin smiled, and he took that to mean he was forgiven. Her expression quickly sobered again, but instead of annoyed, she now looked concerned. “Tazun, are you all right?”

“I will be fine,” he said with a polite little smile. “Please don’t be troubled on my behalf—I’ve already made too much of my own affairs, when after all we agreed to discuss your home and work on your elvish today.”

“We can do that anytime,” she replied. “It’s very unlike you to be so distracted. I can’t help being worried.”

They even talked about their feelings so openly, as if showing them wasn’t enough. Despite how annoying he felt it ought to be—how annoying it was, when he was surrounded by it for too long at a stretch—from her, it was strangely endearing. Perhaps simply because he had grown accustomed to speaking with her one on one, unlike most of his interactions with groups of humans.

Tazun slowly sat back down on the ledge beside her, considering.

“I know it isn’t your way to talk about personal business outside the family,” she said seriously, “so please, don’t think I’m picking. But you’re a friend, Tazun, and whatever that means to drow, to me it means your happiness matters. If there’s anything I can do, just name it.”

He couldn’t fully repress a smile at that; they really were starting to rub off on him.

“Let me ask you a theoretical question, if I may.”


He blinked, turning his head to stare at her.

“Ah.” She smiled ruefully. “That’s just a turn of phrase. It means go ahead.”

“Oh. Of course, yes, that’s clear in hindsight. Well, I… I suppose this relates to what you were just saying, about the Stalweiss and the Empire. Have you ever felt you were at odds with your society? With its expectations?”

“Oh, all the time,” she said immediately. “You just described the experience of growing up human. Adolescence is all about figuring out who you are, and finding your place in the world.”

“I see,” he murmured.

“Which,” she said thoughtfully, “probably doesn’t do you a bit of good, does it? I may not know Narisian culture in very much detail, but it’s not at all like that, is it?”

“No, not at all,” he agreed, shaking his head slowly. “Who we are as individuals is very much a function of who we are as a people. We each have a place in society; great sacrifices are made and resources invested in the rearing of any child, and the expectation that the investment will be repaid is central to our identity. Just by existing, I have placed a burden upon my family, my House, my whole society. If I do not contribute back, and not just to break even but to become a credit and an asset to family, House, and city, I am a thief.”

“Hm.” She tucked one leg under herself, kicking the other softly against the ledge. “Is there a particular reason you have to contribute in a certain way? Not to pry, Tazun, but it sounds like you’re questioning your place. If it doesn’t feel like the right place, wouldn’t it be better for you and for your family and all if you found one where you can do better?”

He smiled again. “I like my place. I like my work. I guess I’m questioning…other people’s places, which is shockingly presumptuous. I’m not certain if all the things I was taught as truth really…make sense.”

Elin grinned. “Well. That, again, sound like…y’know, life, to me. I think I feel what you mean a little, though. I’m a soldier, and a pretty low-ranking one. I can earn advancement, but for now, I still have a lot to prove. And there are expectations. Discipline, conformity, codes of conduct. A chain of command, orders…hm.” She tilted her head inquisitively to one side. “You know, when I think about it that way… Considering you Narisians like a whole nation of soldiers makes a lot of stuff suddenly make sense.”

“I suppose it does, at that,” he said thoughtfully.

“Remember I was talking about the Enchanter Wars?”

“Of course.”

“Soldiers rebelled against their Emperor then. Soldiers, governors, cities, whole nations. There were some existing rebel groups, sure, but for the most part, those were all loyal Imperials who couldn’t be part of an Empire that would do what the Throne had done to Athan’Khar. They all had expectations and duties to Tiraas, but those expectations ran both ways. The Empire had betrayed their trust, become something it was never supposed to be. It wasn’t their Empire anymore. I dunno, Tazun… Maybe you’re still fit for your place, but it isn’t fit for you?”

He sighed softly. “What you say has great sense to it…but the idea is very unsettling.”

“Why?” she asked gently.

“I am my place.” He glanced down at his jewelry, glinting in the harsh fairy light of the enclave. “I am defined by my position, my skills, my relationships. By the space I occupy in this life. If that is wrong…I would have no idea who or what I am.”

She placed her hand over his on the ledge between them, gazing at him but saying nothing.

He didn’t pull away.

If anything, Tazun was even more confused as he made his way through the streets later. He had gone home, secured his wares in his chambers, but then gone back out, too restless to stay put. The same issues swirled around in his head—the slave, his mother, his role in the family, Saash’t’s oblique but infuriatingly incisive observations.

Now, though, there was also Elin, and her infuriatingly incisive observations. And the fact that his friendship with her was beginning to cloud more than just his judgment. He really had better start keeping his distance; he’d already spent an awful lot of time in personal conversation with her. With one unmarried woman. That was the kind of thing that could very easily spread the spores of rumor, and a rumor like that would wreak no end of mischief. His mother would be livid at the mere suggestion of him taking up with a human.

The fact that he felt physically pained at the idea of breaking off that friendship was probably not a good sign.

Tazun found himself in a familiar market street; subconsciously, his feet had brought him to the very doorstep of his favorite tea room. Well, across the street from it. He usually limited his visits to restaurants to one per tenday, which was a degree of indulgence he felt suitable to his station and personal resources. A calm, quiet booth with a cup of his favorite tea sounded too absolutely perfect to pass up, however. Sometimes, exceptionally trying times demanded exceptionally soothing measures.

He noted the presence of two House guards bracketing the door as he crossed the street toward the tea room. Some noble was visiting, then. Well, nobles were generally not trouble if one stayed out of their way, which he made a point to do. His hesitation was infinitesimal; he really wanted that cup of jasmine tea.

The two soldiers remained at attention as he passed through the doors, ignoring him utterly.

Once inside, though, he paused again; the place was much more crowded than usual, people seeming to fill nearly every table. He paused, glancing about.

“Well met,” said the server, whom he recognized, but whose name he had never learned. Their relationship had never made it necessary; personal conversation would have been inappropriate while one was serving. The man looked just faintly tense, which was understandable, given the crowd. “I apologize for the lack of space.”

“There is nothing to apologize for,” Tazun said diplomatically, suppressing regret. “I congratulate you on your successful business. I can return another time.”

“There is a table free,” the man said swiftly, and Tazun had the oddest sense that he was even more unhappy about this. “Please, I would not send a favored guest away. I shall speak with the mistress about arranging a small discount for your discomfort.”

“That is entirely unnecessary,” Tazun demurred, as was proper. “I am not in the least imposed upon.”

The server replied with the meaningless little smile that was appropriate in that situation, gesturing diffidently with one arm. “If you would honor us by staying, this way, please.”

Tazun allowed himself to be ushered to what seemed the only remaining open table, maintaining just enough presence of mind to avoid rudeness to his host or to any of the other patrons. Most of his attention remained on his inner turmoil, and it was with relief that he sank into the thinly padded seat of the small booth. His order placed, he was left in blessed solitude, the low walls of the booth serving to delineate a personal space which any Narisian would respect.

What was he going to do? The painful thing he just kept coming back to was his overwhelming sense that keeping Selim a slave was wrong. It was so wrong it brought him a nauseating blend of sorrow and shame whenever he allowed himself to dwell upon it.

But…who was he to make such determinations? Tar’naris had kept slaves for thousands of years, especially humans. The weight of culture and tradition behind the practice was so enormous that the sheer temerity of his instinctive dislike of it felt sacrilegious. Worse, this was his mother’s decision. His mother! How could he even be thinking of questioning her judgment? Themynra had granted him no special gift of judgment himself, that much he certainly knew. He was a craftsman, a skilled up fairly inexperienced one. He was young. His mother had led their family to honor and a valued station in House Vyendir. And now he entertained doubts about her decisions?

His sisters would slap him senseless. He would not begrudge them doing it.

Why couldn’t he just make all this go away? It was only in his head. His head should obey, both his own wishes and the dictates of his culture.

Quite suddenly, a shabbily-dressed human man slid into the seat opposite him.

“Not want any, thanking you,” Tazun said immediately in the thick pidgin Tanglish he used to discourage pushy Tiraan merchants, a trick Elin had taught him. Unthinkable that one would do something this aggressive; the man wasn’t going to last long like this. In mere moments he would be removed by the tea room’s proprietress. In fact, he was likely to end up like Selim Darousi if he made a habit of this.

“That’s quite all right, my good man, I’m not selling,” the human replied smoothly in elvish. He had a peculiar accent, but his command of the language seemed fluent, bringing Tazun up short.

“You are intruding,” he said with a thin little smile of courtesy. “I wish to be alone.”

“Life is sometimes disappointing,” the uninvited guest said solemnly. “But disappointments can lead to good surprises, if you let them. I think, first of all, you should listen to what the lady has to say.”

“Lady?” Tazun glanced pointedly around.

In that moment, he realized something. There was no conversation in the shop; dead silence hung over the crowd. Couples sat at each table, not speaking, but simply watching each other, the tabletops, the walls… All had been served tea, but no one drank.

Also, one of the House guards outside the door had stepped in, and was blocking the entrance, staring directly at him with a face that was blank even by Narisian standards. Paying closer attention now, he realized her armor and insignia marked her of House Awarrion.

In fact…everyone in here was dressed in red and green.

He began to be very, very nervous.

“Good day, Tazun,” said a smooth, feminine voice from directly behind him, on the other side of the partition between his booth and the next. “Thank you for joining us.”

“I…apologize if I was late,” he said, eyes on the grinning human, choosing his words with extreme care. “I did not realize I was expected. Whom have I the great honor of attending?”

“I am Nahil nur Ashaele d’zin Awarrion. And we have things to discuss.”

Oh, Scyllith’s lost hells.

If he had to get cornered by a matriarch’s daughter, the Awarrions were probably the safest; nobles were nobles and they were all bloodless spiders as far as he was concerned, but House Awarrion existed for the purpose of diplomacy, and they never caused any harm that they could by any measure avoid, even to the most insignificant person. On the other hand, of that matriarch’s three daughters, this one was the worst. Heral, the eldest, was a born peacemaker and the very soul of diplomacy; the youngest, Shaeine, had not been active in the city enough to generate much talk, but she was known to be a priestess of Themynra. Nahil, though. Rumors disagreed on whether she was perpetually at odds with her mother, or was quite close to Ashaele and the trusted agent sent to do whatever unpleasant things needed doing in a manner that the matriarch could claim had been none of her work. It made little difference from his perspective. Nahil was trouble.

And just by virtue of being a matriarch’s daughter, she could have her guards beat him senseless at a whim, and anyone nearby would assume he had done something to richly deserve it. Oh, she would pay for that; his mother would raise the damned, House Vyendir would complain formally of the insult, and Ashaele would punish her. But that wouldn’t save him from the beating. Or whatever else she felt like doing to him.

“In what way might I be of service to you?” he asked with exceeding care. The human’s knowing little smile was not improving his equanimity in the least.

“Tell me, Tazun,” his invisible captor said calmly from behind the barrier, “what do you think of the traditional institution of human slavery in Tar’naris?”

“I think nothing of it,” he said as evenly as he could manage.

“Really? Nothing?” Nahil permitted open curiosity into her voice, a social breach only someone of her rank could get away with. Then again, she could get away with probably anything here, and he had best keep aware of that fact.

“It is not my place to consider such matters,” he said stiffly. Well, stiffness would suffice in place of the serenity which was currently beyond him. “Such luxuries are well beyond my means, and thus none of my business.”

“But your family has one, is that not so?”

Oh, no.

“If you wish to discuss my family’s slave,” he said cautiously, “with respect, you must speak to my mother on the subject. I am not honored with the responsibility of overseeing or even consulting on any such matters in my household.”

He did not miss the way the human’s stare had hardened, and taken on a distinctly predatory aspect. Elin had spoiled him; humans and their emotional outbursts were not merely cute or trying. They could be absolutely terrifying.

“But I don’t want to speak to your mother,” Nahil replied. “I am speaking with you. This is a great problem for my House, you see, Tazun. The market for slaves only exists through abusive exploitation of Narisian law, and even more abusive entrapment of Tiraan citizens. The Imperial government currently tolerates this for the sake of the greater good, but the Tiraan people feel about it precisely as we would, were the reverse occurring. Notably, it is not, despite the fact of human societies finding us as exotic and intriguing as we do them. Why do you suppose that is, Tazun? Are they simply our moral superiors?”

She was doing this on purpose. This was not going to stop until she’d ensnared him into saying something at which she could justify taking violent offense. Well, there was no reason he had to make it easy for her.

“Such matters are well above my station. I am not a moral philosopher, and certainly not an expert on humans.”

“Are you not, though? You are, after all, quite friendly with the humans at the Imperial enclave. It seems you do most of your business there.”

Of course she had done her research on him before arranging this ambush. Belatedly, he realized that the effort involved in this had to have been immense. She couldn’t have known he would be here at this hour; even he hadn’t. This visit had been a pure whim. For how many days had she filled and lurked in his favorite tea room? What could she possibly want from him?

“I have human friends,” he said diffidently. “I don’t believe that qualifies me to render an opinion upon their ways. I find them very strange, still.”

“Ah, so smooth,” she said with open amusement. “You would not do badly at all in my House, Tazun.”

“You honor me greatly.” Indeed, from a noble, that was staggeringly high praise. Somehow, he only felt more nervous.

“Morality aside,” Nahil continued, “this practice of taking and enslaving humans is a constant source of animosity for the Imperials, and thus a constant drain on my House’s efforts. It taxes our attention and resources to extract what humans we can from bondage, and every one we cannot—which is most of them—is an open wound in our relationship with the Empire. These are families torn apart, Tazun. People horrifically abused, at least as they see it. Even as we try to strengthen social ties with the empire, slavers sharpen the suspicion with which many see our people into pure hate. House Awarrion is committed to ending this practice, permanently and absolutely.”

“I wish you good fortune in that task,” he said quietly, beginning to have an idea where this was going. Merciful goddess, let it be anything else…

“You could do more than wish, if you support the idea,” she said calmly.

Tazun drew in a deep, calming breath and let it out slowly. “I do not see any way I could. All of these matters are above my station.”

“You do not think it possible, at least?”

“All these matters—”

“Damn your station,” she said, just sharply enough to chill his blood with terror. “I want your opinion, Tazun. There is no crime in having opinions, and no one can blame you for saying what I have demanded that you say. What do you think of this?”

He swallowed heavily, aware that his public face was cracking, and too frightened to care as much as he should. The flat stare of the human across from him was even worse than the noblewoman behind. “I…think…that trying to separate the richest and most powerful members of our society from one of their favorite luxuries will be impossibly difficult.”

“Mm hm. Look at this. What do you think?”

A slender arm suddenly appeared next to his shoulder, the noblewoman turning to extend her hand. It glittered with two tasteful rings.

“Exquisite work,” he said honestly, relieved to be back on somewhat safer ground, and aware it would not last. “But forgive me if I sound boastful. Unless I am wrong, the sapphire is my sister’s handiwork?”

“Not the rings, Tazun,” she said with naked amusement. “The sleeve. Beautiful, is it not? Sifanese silk. It’s made by worms, I understand, rather than spiders. Not as strong as our native silk, but far, far softer, and the way it catches the light…”

“It is most becoming on you.”

“Thank you. And twenty years ago, its worth would have been greater than the sum of the Queen’s treasury. Now? Still expensive, but I have a dozen at home, and I am far from the best-dressed daughter of a matriarch in Tar’naris. The Imperial treaty brings us security, wealth, luxury beyond imagining. And yet, a few souls still cling to the idea of owning the one treasure whose acquisition threatens to bring all this down upon our heads. That is weakness, Tazun. It is stupid, selfish frailty. To be Narisian is to root out such traits and crush them. They cannot be allowed to take root in our society. They would destroy us.”

“I do not understand how I can help you,” he said stiffly. The wretched woman had just indirectly insulted his mother, and there was no way she didn’t realize it; she was a trained diplomat, after all. Were she anyone else, he would have spoken right back to her in even sharper terms. In fact, were she still at matriarch’s daughter and he not completely surrounded by her retainers, he probably still would have.

“I have not arranged all this simply to make idle conversation,” Nahil said smoothly, withdrawing her arm. “Your mother’s recent acquisition is a male human named Selim Darousi. Tell me, Tazun, what do you know of the god Eserion?”

“The… Ah, little,” he said, blindsided by the apparently abrupt change of topic. “That is the thief god, isn’t it?” Humans and their gods. Why did they need so many? No wonder they came in such a wild array of colors and builds.

“One side effect of the opening of our two societies is that the Pantheon’s cults have begun creeping into Tar’naris,” Nahil said. “They are certainly not poised to threaten Themynra’s worship, have no fear of that, but there are drow among us who have begun to follow some of these gods, in very small numbers. Eserion is not among them. You see, Tazun, the Eserites do not steal simply to enrich themselves; they steal out of a religious duty to humble the powerful, and to disrupt all social systems which they consider unjust. Which, as I understand it, means all systems. We do not have Eserites here, and we do not want them. Our society is not built to endure the presence of such individuals, and if they are allowed to take root, removing them will be a nightmarish prospect. The cult would take such action as a direct attack and respond in kind. No…they must simply be prevented, at all costs, from establishing a presence here.”

“Hey, no offense taken,” the human across from Tazun said lightly.

“Ah, yes,” Nahil said. “Allow me to introduce my guest, Sidewinder.” She paused significantly. “An enforcer of the Thieves’ Guild.”

“I just can’t tell you how charmed I am to make your acquaintance,” the human said, grinning toothily at Tazun in an expression that he could not manage to interpret as friendly.

“I am somewhat puzzled,” Tazun admitted. “If you don’t want the Thieves’ Guild here…”

“Then,” Nahil replied, “it is necessary to accommodate them to an extent, and not create what they will see as a need to be here. And that, Tazun, has just become very much your business. You see, Selim Darousi, also known as Squirreltail, is also a member of the Thieves’ Guild.”

Tazun suddenly heard a great roaring in his ears. “…oh.”

“Oh, indeed,” Nahil said with audible grimness. “And that, Tazun, means that Tar’naris, House Vyendir, and your family in particular, all have a very big problem.”

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