View source for Hintzu BW XX

The room is dark.  Huge purple curtains are pulled across large, arched windows.  A fire flickers occasionally in the sturdy square hearth as the embers catch a new breath, and smoke trickles gently up into a chimney carved out of the solid rock wall.   “What am I to call you now, sama?” a gentle woman’s voice fills the silent room.

“I have chosen a new name, to honour your father,” replies an oriental man, middle aged, dressed in a deep purple kimono with a black and white obi.  The man’s hair is tonsured like that of a samurai and around his neck, carved from black sapphire and opal, is a woman’s face - half white, half black.   Against the wall, by his side, is a vast black bastard sword, covered in dwarven runes and faintly glowing a purple-blue.  On his left hand is a ring with a prominent green gem set in a band of pure white gold.  A finger is missing from his right hand.  

“Really?” the woman’s voice emanates from an orb, perched atop a stone pedestal and pulsing shades of purple.

“Did he not meet his end at the Marsh?” The Oriental asks rhetorically and not without humour.
The answer is quick and humourless, “He did” then, after a brief pause, “perhaps my belief that you chose your name as you beat a hasty retreat from Everinstar was a little hasty.”  She liked this – the banter allowed her better to use her intellect – her confidence was clear.
Less certain that his attempt at endearment had worked, the Oriental shuffled uneasily before replying, “the name has a strong sound to it, and the Marsh matched my feelings at the time.”  

“Lost?” She smirked.

“Hateful.” He returned before he cold check his emotions.  She was always a difficult person with whom to commune.  He continued hastily, “regardless, congratulations on your achievement Inwe-hime, I understand your new home is indeed a powerful place.  I trust my slaves did all that was required.”

“They did,”  the tone left him in no doubt that she had somehow scored a point and was about to drive it home, “it was adequate compensation for the loss of my nephew.”

“Good”, he said flatly not knowing where he stood with her – does she have some form of revenge in mind he wondered.

As if sensing his unease, she continued, “you realise if he had not aligned himself elsewhere, we would be at war.  Blood is thicker than wine…”

“I would expect nothing less”, now we cut to the quick, “but if he were not so aligned I would not have had to kill him.”  He felt proud of himself – somehow this drew the points level.

“Quite” she had to concede.  However, this was not why he wished to converse, “But that is not at the heart of this…I trust you guard his trinkets well; some are of great import to my Lady.”  Her beautiful face became clear in the orb.  Black painted, full lips, moving rhythmically as she spoke, eerily in different time to the formation of the words as if she spoke another language and the orb translated it.  

“They will soon be very well protected indeed; your acolyte is proving to be of considerable use.”  Why did he feel in her debt?  Ever since their first encounter she had understood so much more than he.  He fought hard for his immortality; fought hard to gain the wisdom and knowledge that they seem to possess by right.  He never knew how she understood what was in men’s minds.  But she did – she understood very well about the White Council. 

“Good”, she replied with sufficient force to bring him out of his reflection, “has he examined the Book my brother authored?”

The question was asked with a little too much haste; is that what she’s interested in?  “No” he replied, “that is something I would wish to do myself – there is too much at stake.”

“That may not be wise, my friend”, her deep, dark eyes seemed to pierce his soul, “there are powers at work that you may well not understand.”

Of course, she was right, “…But you do, Inwe-hime?”

“Of course; my father was the first to witness the act.”  

It became clear to the Oriental – her father, the traitor, was shown how it could be achieved.  Was that why he betrayed his people?  

She continued, “He provided my brother and I with sufficient insight into the workings of our Lady.”

“And you practiced Lady, did you not?  You kept him alive and practiced.  What a shame you could not bring back your brother.”  It was his turn to enjoy himself; however, the fun was short lived - he was not prepared for her coldness.

“Of course I did; I had no use for a half-wit brother, but the blood of his nemesis?” she asked rhetorically, “Now that was worth keeping.”  She pauses, as if reflecting on secret pleasures.  He shuddered as she continued, “Oh yes, there is much more than is written in my brother’s book...Much more, but little of it concerns you.”

“Our Lady showed your Father these”, he struggles for the word, “...extras?”

“Look into the stone, see what she enabled my father to do.”  The Oriental leans forward and the faint purple glow increases in its intensity, “You see what he did?”

Her question was completely unnecessary, the Oriental man could see well enough.  His face betrayed the fact that he recognised the first and most powerful Lich – Ezollach.

Did it need to be this way he wondered.  “And she would allow me the same insight?” he asked almost against his better judgement.

The reply was swift, “in return for souls, yes.  You are already providing her with many my friend but she needs more.”

That was simple enough, he thought.  There must be more – no doubt she would make that clear soon.  He had some other pressing questions, “what is required?  I do not wish to waste time.”

“You have the corpse I take it?”  She showed no signs of concern – this was her brother’s son!  If the roles were reversed she would be dead by now.  Perhaps that is why they have such wisdom, he thought, knowing when to strike was key.

“Yes.” His reply was frank.  He had killed the Drow but a few days before having utterly defeated his beleaguered army.

“Then you need others to supply the blood, tissue and organs; the more powerful the better.”  She seemed keenly interested now.

‘How can such a beautiful woman talk about such things as if discussing the weather?’ He thought and continued to question, “Does the race matter?”
“No, though at least one will need to be of my kindred”, was the immediate reply.

“This causes you no distress?” asked the Oriental, almost to himself and in wonderment.

The response was predictable, “No - you intend to return my nephew to the Prime; I will find many volunteers.”

There came a morbid fascination that the oriental had not felt before. “A relative?” he questioned, already knowing the answer.

“Perhaps…That would be best…” she seemed to be deciding the next victim already.
The man thought a moment, grooming his perfectly formed, crescent-shaped moustache, “And what of his previous allegiance?”

“Yes, that may be an issue.” It was her turn to appear distracted, “My Lady believes his soul to be valued highly by the Demon.”

“Then how do we retrieve it?” an obvious question given the circumstances.

As if she had only just thought of an infallible plan, she replied, “Leave that to me.”

Now came the crux, “And in return Inwe-hime?”

“Ahh.  The dwarfs of your land begin to stray from paths laid for them by Dornim.  Many are already corrupt and just need a final push in the right direction.  However, some escaped my nephew’s purge and might threaten our interests.  Their leader, Enrodire, is of particular concern.”  Her stunning face became intense, as if considering every word.

“Why?” the Oriental despised his own ignorance.

“He knows of Nagrad and we foresee a time when it will be of immense value to us.”  This was not the answer the oriental was expecting.  The Drow have not used Nagrad since Craciss’ death.  Perhaps they have been considering opening the old routes again.  It would make sense; rumour has it that Magreb has built much of his fleet…Now that will be of use in the times to come.  “Can he threaten it?” the man eventually asked, “Surely Nagrad is lost to all, save the Drow.”

“It is and my son intends to harbour his fleet there.  However, Enrodire’s uncle Kagrash may have commissioned secret keys which, through powerful dweomer, enable the owner to divine hidden locations.”  The words are whispered almost conspiratorially, although the man knows that he would never be brought into the confidence of a Drow – let alone Inwe herself.

“How did you happen upon this intelligence?” he asked ignoring the real issue for the moment.

“One of your slaves from Orodruin’s clan was most helpful…” came the irritated reply.  She was obviously waiting for the man’s mind to catch up, for him to understand that the problem concerned them both…

Instead he asked the obvious, “You wish that I focus on finding Enrodire’s folk or the key?

“Not one, my friend, there are many.” She began with faked patience, as if talking to a child, 

“Everywhere the half-dwarves have been, everything they have been commissioned to build has a key - all the significant places in Everinstar, including their secret entrances.”

“To Sutur?” He was alarmed, as if the penny had just dropped.

“Yes… I thought that would interest you.”  Finally she was getting through.

Again a pause as the man thought through the problem, “How many keys are there?”

“That we cannot tell as yet, although we know that they were involved in building all Minas and many of the human structures like Sutur.” Clearly she needed to drive home the point, continuing as if she talked to her grandchildren, “You may even find that my nephew had a key or two – he often travelled to hidden places in Everinstar – without having to use a gate, portal or plane.”
“The Dragorald?”  Finally it dawns!

A master of understatement, her tone is nonplussed, “I suspect so.”

“Then it is of mutual interest…” he mused.

“I agree”, she asserts swiftly before he could think of alternatives, “which is why my Lady would like you to embark on another quest.”

What?  What more could she want?  His mind was racing now,  He asked another inane question to buy himself time to think, “More than sending these lost dwarven souls to her?”

“Yes”, it was so much more enjoyable conversing with elves; at least they were a challenge, “We would like you to bring us my brother’s nemesis.”

“Ahh.”  His mind clearly raced in search of a coherent reply; this was not something he could turn down, “That will be more difficult.”

“You will have my nephew’s assistance and an army from my Lady’s realm.”  Her offer was impossible to refuse.

“It will be done.”