Chapter 68
68—Passing a long winter, in the heart of cold.
The day after Arunshee’s appearance, the magic items taken from the drow wizard disappear. Thelbar had set them aside for special study, but sometime in span of a few hours, they vanished into thin air. Or back into the arms of their master.
“Surely he had a
clone,” Thelbar postulates. “No doubt he has set himself up as the new lord of Menzoberranzan.” The Matron Banare, now known to the world as Heshalth, refuses to comment on the matter. She slips into a deep depression, and while her wounds are slowly and painfully healed using mundane means (as magic is forbidden to her), she goes silent, and accepts no visitors.
Several weeks pass uneventfully, then a messenger brings a pair of replies to the letter. Elgin Trezler writes simply that he wishes to speak of the matter in person, come the Spring. Jumdash Dir is more direct. He writes (sic):
- The only reperation you will have from me is at the tip of my blade. Repent or be destroied.
“Fair enough,” Taran says. He and Khuumar begin planning an attack on the Abbey of Swords, and train a hand-picked drow strike-force for the assault.
Ilwe summons Thelbar into a meeting, and shares some disturbing news. Shelveras, the drow deity known as “The Black Bow” has joined the fight against the Eremathan pantheon. Shelveras is a young god by elven standards, newly made for his dedication and zeal against the drow. He is an archer god, like Solonor Thelandira, but he is no god of the woodland. The Black Bow hunts in the Underdark, and his followers swear undying enmity and genocidal warfare against all dark elves. As a true elven supremacist, it surprises no one that he would see Arunshee’s return and the drow reclamation of the Far Forest as the blackest artifice and an affront to all elvenkind.
Nathè gets along miserably with the rest of the group, provoking some ugly scenes with Khuumar and Gorquen in particular. She comments one day on Gorquen’s armor—the suit Gorquen took after defeating the Matron Mother’s Sword when the Mother attempted to steal away the infant Arunshee. Ironically, it was Gorquen’s defeat of the First Sword that earned Nathè her promotion, but if the drow woman knows any gratitude, she keeps it hidden away deep within her heart, guarded by taunts and barbs.
“I’d love to smite her,” Gorquen mutters after one such encounter.
“Get in line behind me,” Khuumar says.
Taran and Nathè set themselves up with accommodations far from the others where their loud lovemaking and even louder arguments will disturb no one. Taran’s mood gradually blackens, and he begins to long for Spring.
As a counterpoint, Gorquen and Ilwe’s relationship blossoms into a true romance, warming the hearts of their companions and even softening Gorquen’s temper to a degree. They truly seem to enjoy one another, and spend long hours planning their next adventures, come first thaw.
And, like it must, first thaw eventually arrives. But with it comes further disturbing portents. A huge dwarven army takes to the march, abandoning their halls in the Silver Marches, and heading South at a prodigious pace. Taran leads a delegation out to assess their intent, and is told that they march on Cormyr, to seize a site there proscribed by their father-god Moradin, and prevent all entry, come armies or the legions of Hell. Their priests tell them that Moradin himself has ordered this thing, and they can follow no other course but obedience.
This bodes poorly for the Silver Marches, as dwarven strength was a key component holding back the orcish forces in the region. Without their dwarven allies, things look grim for the human and elven settlements just North of the high forest.
Thelbar broods over this news, and states that this dwarven abandonment will signal the collapse of the Silver Marches. The area is governed by a loose confederacy of humans and elves in the towns of Silverymoon, Everlund, Sundabar and Nesme. King Obuld Many-Arrows and his orcish hordes are bolstered by giants and are certainly bent on conquest. Without the buffer of the Silver Marches the far forest is assured of having its enemies both within, and without.
----
The date set out by the letter fast approaches, and Taran and Thelbar determine to hear out Elgin Trezler and determine his intentions before moving against Jumdash Dir and Enae Enhallo. Taran proposes this strategy:
“What if we go one step further, and actually give aid to Enae in defending Cormyr? Certainly the dwarves from the East who have allied themselves with Sembia are after the same thing the Northern Dwarves are. If their assault can be blunted, and turned back, even Moradin won’t need a whole army to protect the place, and some of those dwarves can come back to fight for their home. We can undercut both troubles at once, forestall an orcish takeover, and make an ally of Elgin Trezler in the process. With Elgin in our debt, what ground will those other bastards have to stand upon? We will have proven our good intent, and as everybody knows, it’s damn hard to assassinate the character of bonafide war heroes.
“And why couldn’t we stop this war? Hell, if we’ve learned anything the last few months it’s that you can really wreck anybody's carefully crafted plan if you just start at the bottom, and kill your way up.”
Thelbar applauds this idea, and they determine to travel to Cormyr immediately. “Without Khuumar and Nathè,” he adds.
Taran says, “Good idea. Gods know what kind of trouble they’d get us in to, and an adventure without any damn drow in it would be like taking a vacation.”
Thelbar mentions the young woman Lilline, the widow Taran gifted his treasure to after being touched by the diary discovered on her husband’s corpse in Undermountain. She lives in Arabel, just a short overland trek from Suzail and Elgin Trezler. He
scrys her, and spies her discussing fabrics with her eldest son in a quaint store-front.
They
teleport to the site, careful to remain
invisible until they can exit the building. Then, the
invisibility is dispelled, and they walk into the shop, which they now see belongs to a rug merchant. Lilline is in fact the merchant in question, and after an astonished greeting, she explains that she has parleyed the gold Taran gifted her with into a prosperous business.
Taran introduces his brother, and Thelbar compliments her on her business acumen.
She seems somewhat suspicious of the brothers' new otherworldly appearance, as the favor of Arunshee radiates off of them, giving them a celestial quality, and marking them as something slightly other than fully human.
Taran speaks with her young son, and encourages him to pursue his dreams of becoming a great knight some day. “You could be a Purple Dragon,” Taran says. “But you have to remember—what is the most important trait of any knight?”
“His strong sword-arm!” the boy squeals.
“No, guess again,” Taran says.
“His . . . mount?”
“No, child. A true knight must always have his integrity. If he is honest, fulfills his promises, and strives to protect others, the gods will bless him with a strength that cannot rust, and will never be lost. Do you understand?”
The boy assures Taran that he does, and Taran gives him another sack of gold. “Give this to your mother once we have gone, with our blessings. And always remember, your father fought for the good at all times. He never ever did anything wicked, and he was obedient to his parents. You must strive to do the same.”
As they leave the shop, Thelbar cynically comments that it will be a miracle if the boy doesn’t rush out and spend the gold on masterwork adventuring equipment before the sun is even down.
“Well hell,” Taran objects. “Don’t you wish someone had given
us three thousand gold pieces to gear up with when we were starting out? Remember my crappy sword, and that creaky leather armor I used to tear around in?”
“That was armor?” Thelbar says. “I thought you were just naturally filthy.”
“Cheap shot, brother. I remember the spell book that you had to rescue from the camp-fire and how you kept the cover on with spit and a prayer. A little gold is a good thing for a boy. At least he won’t get killed because he can’t afford to cover his head.”
