The Scepter of the Sands (Book 3 of the Vicelord Chronicles)

Memnon, Calimshan

(28th of Hammer, 1380 Dalereckoning)

With the knowledge that a full-scale attack by Lamia could occur at any time, the caravan veritably sped through the desert. Their journey indeed proved to be only two days, two mornings, camping outside of the city proper on that second night.

Concealed by her psionic illusions, she, Adir, and Netal approached Pasha Ormat’s estate as dusky-skinned Humans, their clothing unremarkable and threadbare. Their escort of four she left as Humans, but with slightly altered appearances as not to draw remark.

All in all, they looked like a traveling band of merchants, more visibly armed than the usual rabble but not enough so to draw attention.

Her father also wore a thin, dark blindfold in addition to a hood, the better to filter the sun’s light for his sensitive eyes.

Confused, hostile eyes trailed them regardless, and she regretted not adorning their illusionary forms with at least a little finery after passing through the poorer outskirts of the city. They wound up looking very out of place in the finer district once they reached it.

The roads, paved sandstone, were partially buried, the buildings also sandstone but sporadically adorned with rosewood, marble, iron, or bronze, and were densely packed together as not to provide alleyways for muggers. Domed roofs of green or yellow tiles or shingles loomed over them, casting them in shadow, which still did little to blunt the heat of the mid-morning sun.

There was a constant din of activity, as street peddlers, beggars, and working girls plied their respective trades. The air stank of sweat, leather, and dung. It poignantly reminded her why she’d slept through the daylight hours in her first days in Calimshan. A few lines of shackled slaves were led in and out of a warehouse, likely headed to market, and she averted her eyes, wincing.

“How much farther, husband?” she asked, rubbing her temples as painful spikes akin to a migraine signified her depleting energy and focus.

“Not much.” Adir replied thoughtfully, “You passed through this very path before. You don’t remember?”

She shook her head, sidestepping a beggar, who tried to clutch to the skirts worn by her doppelganger, but gasped, horrified, as his hands passed through empty air, “The drugs dulled my memory somewhat... Wait, how do you know what path I took?”

“Sabih was watching you in Almraiven, and a secondary divination I cast tracked you to Memnon. I didn’t want you to come to any harm on your journey to the revel”.

Vala scoffed, taking in their surroundings with a practiced eye. The noble quarter was smaller than Calimport and Almraiven, but rigidly separated from the other districts. One thing she noticed immediately was that the temples, devoted solely to Selûne, existed only in the poorer neighborhoods. She’d also seen countless street ministers, also Selûnites, collecting tributes from the beggars and peasants...yet they seemed oddly absent here.

By the way they spoke, too, Vala knew that these followers of the goddess, a known ally of her own Eilistraee, were in no way kin to those she had seen and spoken to further north. There was no kindness in them, no understanding. They reminded her more of loan enforcers from Almraiven than holy men, and they were all men. Another odd incongruence.

They reached the manor at the edge of the docks, a wide two-story affair at least the size of House Duskryn, relatively unremarkable from the outside beside several other, similar palaces. Four Human males stood before the double doors, their thick cloaks and hoods a muted blue that was nearly grey. The adornments did little to conceal their ornamented armor, or the hilts of the massive curved swords sheathed at their backs. They eyed Adir and her with open disdain, disguised as they were.

“I will do the talking.” Adir said quietly, then approached the sandstone steps leading to the guards. They tensed at his approach, but he kept his arms wide, his posture nonthreatening. He spoke in two clipped sentences, too far away for her to eavesdrop, and one turned in through the doors, concealing a scoff, while the other three remained.

Minutes passed, and the tension was palpable. Vala couldn’t think of an ally close enough to be any help. Adir’s gold had only lasted so far. Ormat was their only chance.

The Human returned, nodded to his fellows, and Adir beckoned her and the others over.

“What did you say to him?” Vala asked, wide-eyed, as their retinue passed through the threshold, to which Adir chuckled, “I said to inform Ormat that “the fellow he shared a meal with on the isles” had returned, and wished to parley. He knew the reference”.

“What in the nine hells does that mean?” she asked, nonplussed, and he shrugged, “Maybe another time, my love. Come”.

Contrasting the blistering sunlight, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the inside of Ormat’s manor.

“Lloth’s hairy legs..” Netal swore, under his breath but audible regardless, as he removed his blindfold, “I was not expecting such grandeur outside of Menzoberranzan...”

Vala smiled at her father’s discomfiture as they entered the estate, through the vestibule and into the antechamber. As she remembered from the revel, there was a grand hallway, with a rectangular table long enough to comfortably accommodate over two dozen, and a floor large enough to admit scores of dancers and entertainers. The walls were ribbed, constructed of pure white marble, with many flying buttresses that were intricately carved into the likeness of dolphins.

The many windows were colored glass, vivid murals depicting sea life and clear skies, though the largest specimen, directly behind the Pasha’s seat, depicted a sea at storm; wild, crashing waves beneath a dark cloud alight with thunderbolts.

Pasha Ormat sat in repose, studying them intently, as she had no doubt her father was studying him.

Of a race unheard of in Menzoberranzan, he was a Water Genasi, born of a cross-breeding between a Human and an elemental being, likely more...solid, than the one Adir had summoned. His blue skin, white hair, and lanky frame made him easy to mistake for an Aquatic Elf, another, equally rare species.

Shirtless, shoeless, and heavily tattooed, his station was betrayed in the bejeweled scimitar on his lap, as well as a fabulous ruby amulet about his neck, the stone cut in sunburst and set inside of a ring of diamonds. A talisman at his belt, a gold dolphin with aquamarine eyes, also revealed him as a priest of the underwater god Sashelas Deep, lord of dolphins, knowledge, and benevolent sea creatures. An odd adornment for a pasha, but then...what was there about Ormat that wasn’t a little odd?

He laughed, a rich, vibrant sound, tinged with a hint of menace, “The detail is extraordinary. Since when did you practice illusions, my friend?”

“It would be best if we conversed in private.” Adir replied, “Issues in my city demand a gentle touch”.

“Fear not, for no hostile ears abound.”

Adir coughed, and his cough echoed through the high ceiling of the manor. A poignant statement without words.

“The walls absorb sound. And my less trusted servants I have sent away. We are free to speak openly.”

“Very well. Vala”.

Nodding, the Half-Drow placed her index and middle fingers to her temples, and willed the field of psionic energy that maintained the illusions to dissipate. In an instant, they were themselves again.

If she had ever seen Ormat surprised, this was likely it, though he only inclined one finely trimmed eyebrow ever so slightly, “Your powers return to you. Curious.”

Vala passed her husband, and approached the Genasi. His face crinkled in amusement, and he rose to his feet, whereupon she balled her fist, and struck him flat on the nose. She felt it fracture with a wet crunch, and felt such satisfaction as she had rarely known in her life as he recoiled, took a step back, and collapsed back into his seat.

He winced, surprised not by her act but by the sheer force of the blow, and she scowled at him, “That was for dosing my drink, you slippery little eel! Next time, it won’t be just a fist...”

Every person in the chamber stared agog, except for Adir and Ormat.

Both laughed.

“Oh, how I admire your fire.” Ormat chuckled, spitting a small globule of blood while a thin stream leaked from his right nostril, “I might have abandoned my normal proclivities had you stumbled into me before my lucky friend here”.

He eyed Netal, rubbing his nose with a wince, before a cloud of glowing silvery mist enveloped his face and repaired the damage she had caused, “And more surprises. A true Drow. The lass’ father, no doubt. The resemblance is present, if...hmm, muted by her mother’s features”.

Her father, too, inclined an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Exult in the ever-changing beauty of life." Ormat replied, reciting a holy passage of his god, ”Revel in the joy of creation and increase its myriad aspects. So the King has set himself as a tyrant. Word travels fast, of course. I doubt he will be content with Almraiven alone for long. If he could scatter the Vicelords, even the Syl-Pasha will take notice”.

“He already has.” Adir confessed, referring to a man she did not know of, “But apparently he thinks this is a matter I can resolve without him”.

“So you came to me, to beg for my favor?”

“To offer the possibility of a delicious conspiracy.”

“More an armed rebellion. I am not possessed of a standing army.”

Adir shrugged, “This land is ruled by the hidden dagger, not the loosed sword. I only need a safe place to conduct my conspiracy. Ahriman would suspect I would seek you...but not that you would offer me aid. There is no loyalty among pashas.”

“Obviously.”

“So will you help me?”

“Of course.” Ormat said, grinning mischievously, “If I started doing what people expected me to, I would hardly last a day. I’ll have a secure location within seventy-two hours. You can send your retinue up to the servant’s quarters. They will dress as my own. You three will remain with me, and eat my food and drink my wine, and be merry.”

He clapped his hands, and the candles along the length of the dining table ignited. Small bells rang in the floor above. She heard the frantic shuffling of footsteps, and suddenly over a dozen Human females filed into the chamber, bearing trays of fruit and silver ewers. It had taken no more than a twenty count.

“I keep provisions ready for surprise visitors.” Ormat explained, taking his seat again and gesturing to either side, “Usually, my visitors are less politically controversial, but also less interesting.“.

Vala approached a chair two seats away from their host, as was custom, and awaited her husband. He, in turn, pulled out her seat, and pushed her in after she sat, a custom more common among northern cultures but sometimes present there. He then took his seat between them, and Netal, curiously, took the corner, his back to the wall, or at least, the wall closest to the table.

Ormat smirked at the display, but said nothing.

She eyed her plate, which was already being loaded with sliced melon, squash, and sweet potato, baklava, and flatbread and hummus. They poured a drink into her glass, and she eyed their host, who shook his head, “A basic cider, milady. Mine are trained to notice and accommodate pregnant females. Why else do you think I would have female house servants?”

Vala decided she would make a note to puzzle out the meaning of his continued allusions, another time.

But first, she sipped her drink, and exhaled, finding a slight tingling, bubbling effervescence.

“So, anyway.” Ormat continued, taking a long draught of his own glass, “The good word is abound, but I love a little dramatic storytelling. While we wait for the main course, do tell me how you walked out of Ahriman’s throne room with nary a scratch between you. And this...aah, I apologize! I never formally gave introductions...you are...?-” he asked, motioning to her father.

“Netal Oblodra.” he replied dryly, “Weapon Master of House Telth’zol”.

“Splendid!” Ormat beamed, “Indeed Vala’s Father, newly recruited from the mysterious Underdark! I love it! Tell me everything.”

Adir looked to her, expectant, and Vala shrugged, “Very well. You can imagine that after abducting me, Adir did something to inhibit my powers?”

Ormat nodded.

Netal shifted uneasily.

She motioned to the gold and sapphire choker about her neck, “Well, King Ahriman’s throne room could, at his command, nullify all enchantments and spells not of his making. That which left Adir defenseless also destroyed the enchantment of this device. And restraining my powers for that time only amplified them, heightened my connection to myself, and to...”

She paused, uneasy, “Someone else. I do not fully understand. But I know I am now able to...do things that I could not previously. And my mentor, Kimmuriel Oblodra, had already considered me a born prodigy, begrudgingly, due to my mixed heritage. I repelled Ahriman’s spells, the peculiar psionic presence of his scepter. I broke open the doors of that infernal chamber. And I drew us away using an empowered dimensional door”.

“Impressive.”

“At great cost.” Vala replied sadly, remembering the last sight of Sabih, Adir’s previous majordomo, as he’d charged into the throne room with a few choice men to buy them time.

“Well I must admit.” Ormat noted dryly, “You are a dreadful storyteller. No sensitivity to the bard’s silver tongue, but this tale is interesting regardless. His scepter has psionic abilities? Curious. And this nullification barrier. My dear, you probably witnessed more of the unleashed power of an Almraiven king that anyone has in this lifetime. What some might pay for this information...”

He made a show of considering, “I may have a means to supply us with some extra funds. Put the goodly King on his toes a little. Make him wonder who else might have been watching him during his coup. Hah. But I must add that Ahriman also has, so they say, unlimited control of the sky and sands around his city.”

“And a ruby that makes him virtually immune to harm. Maybe immortal.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I was planning to steal it before Adir came to me.”

“Quite a heist.” Ormat conceded, chin rested atop his hand as he considered a shallow bowl of steaming lentil stew, “Not immortal, for sure. There’s been a few other rulers with a red stone set in their jewelry, and they came of age normally enough. That might be worth stealing, though. Alas, we must penetrate his other, more immediate defenses first. We have quite a bit of work cut out for us. But Ahriman, like all men, is vulnerable in some way. We mortals deceive ourselves otherwise, but it is always so.”

“I will work on Ahriman.” Adir announced, “I still have allies here and beyond. Barboris, for one.”

“Disgusting Sharran...” Vala spat, recalling her brief employer with instant and unconditional revulsion.

“Perhaps.” he conceded, “Alustriel and her council remain another potential asset. I have little doubt they will jump at the chance of altering the ruling bodies of a slaver port, though I will of course keep the two parties acting without knowledge of the other.”

He could manage. Adir was as skilled a diplomat as Qilué herself.

“The Promenade no doubt is in disrepair with the death of Eilistraee...” Vala noted sadly, still grieving for a faith she’d nearly found in the Dark Maiden, “But perhaps they will know the meaning of my...visions. I would return there... It is just...-”

“I know, my love. I trust you can manage transport to the High Forest...?” Adir asked the Genasi, who replied with a dismissive shrug, “Of course. You will, of course, try to bring a few of your friends back with you. Having a few Dark Elves in my midst sounds...well, exciting.”

“I make no promises. I also doubt you would enjoy their company.”

With brief consideration, his earlier words were quite obvious.

“Oh, fine.” Ormat replied with a sulk, eyes widening in delight at the sight of a large platter of seared lamb kabob, “Oh yes, it is my nameday, isn’t it? In all the excitement I completely forgot. You will all enjoy my finest delicacy, even you, milady. At least a little”.

Eyeing the red meat, which usually reminded her too vividly of the mysterious stew fed to her and the other slaves in her early days in Menzoberranzan, Vala sniffed distastefully, “A bite or two perhaps. But no more. I also wish to retire soon. The road, you understand, has been...”

She politely left out that her advancing pregnancy was sapping her strength, leaving her exhausted through much of the day, constantly interrupting her meditation sessions.

He inclined his head, “Of course, of course. Women. So, Netal, was it? You have been much too quiet. Enjoy a glass, and tell me tales of your homeland. It’s always a pleasure to learn of the world, and I find that the soft-spoken are often the most eloquent orators...”

As the evening ran its course they wished their host a good night and retired to a small but luxurious room on the second floor.

Despite only being about the size of an average loft, it was perhaps the finest chamber Adir had ever seen, even compared to Ahriman’s throne.

Decorated in Ormat’s...exotic tastes, the curtains were a deep, fur-lined blue, so dark as to be nearly black, with dangling lengths of silvery charms, and the walls were opaque glass filled with something akin to quicksilver. The fluid was in perpetual motion, affording the illusion of a churning sea. The ceiling, too, was possessed of this effect. There was no balcony, nor were there windows.

He assumed this was where his friend copulated with the members of his harem...and tried to summon the willpower to lay flat in the richly cushioned bed. To his honest surprise, the sheets were dry.

“I don’t want us to part...” Vala noted sadly, eyes averted, “Even for a matter of days. But I know you have work to do...and I need to return to the Promenade. There is something in addition to learning about these visions that I have to do.”

She paused, uncertain, before meeting his gaze, “Do you still have it?”

He nodded, reaching into the folds of his robes, about his neck, and withdrawing a plain leather cord, tied to which was a thick, chipped, yellowed tusk.

“I never left it out of my sight.” he assured her, parting with the grim memento of her mother, the only thing she had left of her, “Are you...certain you wish to bring it there?”

“I have conquered my demons.” Vala replied, setting the tooth on the mantle, “Or perhaps I have outgrown them. Since my first days with you, the being that I called Nobody has been nothing but a distant memory”.

He nodded, for he knew little of the aspect she had adopted during her time alone in the wilds of the Underdark, a dark reflection of animal survival instinct. It broke his heart to think of her in such a state, but he was relieved that her turmoil was in the past.

“Fine then. Enough with such grim business, then.”

He dared a glance into the adjacent washroom, and grinned, happily extricating himself from that bed to peer in through the portal, “Will wonders never cease? A bathtub was not sufficient for the humble pasha. He made himself a miniature waterfall.”

The floor was a massive bowl of veined white marble, with a small hole near the center to drain. A second opening in the wall, terminating into the long snout of a bronze dolphin, served as the fountainhead. It expelled a steady stream of water, that was even then beginning to steam the mirrored walls.

“A proximity trigger?” Vala asked, shrugging dispassionately, “How do you men sleep at night knowing there are beggars starving in the streets?”

“You were hardly inclined to aid the less fortunate during your time as a thief.”

“Truth, that...” she conceded, already parting her top down her shoulders, “But I only held on to what I needed to survive and to enhance my natural abilities, the better to ensure my survival. Ormat hardly needs a waterfall in his bathhouse.”

“Truth, that.”

Adir set aside his robes and the few protective talismans he’d acquired to replace those he had lost, before pulling his wife to him .

“No, let me...” he whispered in her ear, pressing against her, her back knotting as he undid the wrap about her waist, then relaxing as he pushed down her leggings, lifting each foot to be rid of it.

He brushed his nose against the side of her neck, then his lips, ending in a shallow kiss, supporting her thin frame with one arm. She leaned into him, sighing. His hand found her abdomen, then her lower belly, which he gingerly cupped as he inched them towards the water. The heat settled there betrayed the life forming in her body. He could feel it even against the cloud of steam filling the chamber.

“They may have to suffer the indignity of my company for a time...” he whispered as the water broke across his back, soaking his hair, “And I hate waiting. We’ve been on the road a while, so this might hurt a bit...”

She didn’t reply. She didn’t need to. A brief glance back to him betrayed her disposition...