Editing BW29 - Lan Zi

“What the fuck do you mean?! You fucking lost him, you arse! What in Hel’s name happened?” Her beautiful face was twisted in such pain and rage that it looked as if it might burst into flame. 
 
“My…my…Lady,” the Drow stammered, not daring to wrestle his eyes from the floor where they studied his mud-spattered riding boots.  No, it was not mud that adorned the dark-purple clothing the elf wore, it was the wrong consistency; nor was it clay though, in patches, it was a similar colour.

Another outburst from the female elf Lanzi knew to be Inwe returned his gaze to that awesome physiognomy, “Don’t you fucking dare, ‘my Lady me’! What the fuck happened?” 

Still unable to tear his eyes from deeply mottle white-black marble floor, all the Drow could manage was a weak, “Umm…”

Drawing a needle-sharp 18” blade from its hiding place beneath her silk gown, taking a pace closer to the man before her and pointing the knife at a spot just below his belt, she screams, “Out with it you shit! Before I cut off your balls!”

As if woken from some all-encompassing reverie and very much in fear for his life, the elf searched desperately for a coherent response, “We don’t know, my Lady…”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” she spat and, not unreasonably perhaps, asked, “Why the fuck don’t you know?”

Even more awkward now, the elf shuffled his feet still not daring to look his queen in the eye, “Well…One inspection he was in the cell, the next he was gone…”, was his only explanation.

That was never going to satisfy Inwe and the guard knew it, “Really, are you all so fucking blind?” she asked quietly as she half turned from the man, blocking his view of her blade.  Lanzi knew the gesture was meant to distract, and that her quieter tone meant Inwe was even more dangerous; however, this was lost on the Drow who had lifted his head and relaxed his shoulders.  In a blur, Inwe swung back, almost pirouetting on her right leg; expertly she raised and turned the blade so it re-appeared at neck height.  Inwe capitalised on the momentum her body had created as it swung back towards the Drow, by stretching her arm at exactly the right moment and plunging the knife so deep into the guard’s jugular that the tip appeared just below the opposite ear.  

Blood trickled at first at the Drow convulsed where he stood; then, as Inwe pulled the blade towards her, ripping out the man’s throat, a bright red explosion of blood covered both of them.  The second huge spurt of blood came before the Drow collapsed twitching uncontrollably, dying both of blood loss and asphyxiation. 
 
“Bring me the Palantir, I must communicate,” Inwe barked into the darkness, panting slightly – not from the effort, Lanzi realised, but from exhilaration.  

Drow appeared from the edges of Lanzi’s dream, dragged the still convulsing body away and replaced it with a pedestal on which was carefully placed the scrying stone.  At first, only the occasional glimmer of purple-blue light flickered across the sphere; then, as Inwe’s gaze focussed more intently, it began to glow with shifting hues of purple,indigo, violet and flashes of electric white, so bright that it blinded Lanzi momentarily.

A deep, booming voice – as much a bark as actual language – came from where the stone was placed, “You have some good news for me?” it asked.

Distracted by taking a life, she seemed not to care about here response, which was blunt, “No.”

“Then what do you want?” Came the equally terse response. 

“Nothing,” the Drow queen chose her words more carefully now, “except to say that we need to change the deal.”
It was the male’s turn to be blunt, “No.”

Not an entirely unexpected reply it was clear, but Inwe pressed nonetheless, “But you haven’t heard what I have to say.”

“I don’t care what you have to say;” the orb pulsed in time with the tempo of the voice only swapping hue amongst the most dark of purples, “you told me that I would have Yishmay and I am not interested in excuses.”

“Of course,” Inwe thought out loud, “you know, don’t you?”

“Of course…” the voice was slightly mocking.

“Well,” the Drow Queen gathered herself, “her father will be found soon and, in any case, we will deliver the daughter to you.  And you will remember our bargain.”

Then, like the crushing impact of a Trebuchet’s missile, he dropped the stone, “She has gone.”

“What?” Lanzi knew that Inwe had no idea what the voice meant.  Her face betrayed her confusion.

“You know…” the voice chided.

“No.” Inwe’s confusion remained for just a fleeting second, before Lanzi saw something dawn on her – her expression grew dark.

“She is not where I expected her to be and she has not come to you…” the voice expressed its owner’s irritation, “So, where is she?”

“I don’t know.” It is clear to Lanzi from the return of the slightly confused expression, that Inwe is telling the truth.

Still disbelieving, the question was obvious, “Really?”

“Yes,” Inwe’s confidence returned, “that would not be in my interest.”

Angry now, patience exhausted, “No, it would not!”

Musing to herself, Inwe whispers, “We will watch and wait,” then, louder, “She is probably with her father.”

Still harsh the voice booms from the orb, which darkens with every syllable, “Then I have no business with you.”