Helping the Drow

Aliara hesitated. Part of her—all right, most of her—wanted to call a war council right away. She didn't want the drow settled in, she wanted them gone. The sooner they had a City to go back to, the sooner they were no longer her problem. She wanted to hurt that drow Lord, too, the one who had nearly killed her poor Teysa. He was the architect of all of her misery, after all, the one who had hurt Mish'li and landed these refugees at her doorstep. And now Teysa's got grey skin and black eyes and you haven't kissed her in weeks. Aliara clenched a fist hard enough that her nails dug little half-moons into her palm. Her need for **** was an open wound, one that would itch and throb until she planted a dagger in Lord Lockh's heart.

Perhaps a decade ago, she would have already been on her way, alone if necessary. But time and Teysa's patient company had tempered her. What good would she do anyone if she died meaninglessly? And she would die, she had no illusions about that: whatever powers Lord Lockh had consorted with had their hooks into him. If Teysa couldn't destroy that shadow with her holy might, what chance did Aliara stand?

**** was important, but it would keep. Right now, the best thing she could do was the job that was in front of her.

"No matter what I say, Lil'esh, you're going to help your people, aren't you?"

Lil'esh nodded.

"Then I guess I'll help you help them. Two pairs of hands, and all that." Aliara could feel the color creeping up her chin. "Just... tell me where to go, what to do." She tried to avoid Lil'esh's gaze, but to no avail. The drow was smiling faintly, the kind of smile that a cynical observer might call a smirk. When she spoke, though, her voice was warm with sincerity.

"Thank you, Aliara," she said. "You're doing the right thing."

Aliara doubted it. But she was willing to try.

Lil'esh led her deeper into the caves. All around them, drow clustered in small groups, watching carefully and murmuring under their breath. They lounged, catlike, draping themselves artfully over rocks or against walls just so. It was so quintessentially elven that it sent a shiver up Aliara's spine. Catlike is right. They're so beautiful, so sophisticated... but they're just brainless bullies, really, and they like to **** before they feed.

Even persecuted and driven into exile, the drow had a natural grace and poise that left Aliara feeling clumsy. Their clothes were tattered and torn, but they had clearly once been fine indeed. Many of them carried half-healed cuts and scrapes or black eyes, but their features were still fine and patrician, with deep-set eyes and high foreheads.

There was something strange about those eyes. Aliara was quite familiar with the feeling of drow eyes on her: gazing, judging, evaluating. They made her feel like a bug under a lens. These drow, though, evinced none of the simmering contempt that she was used to. Their faces were open, unguarded, their lips free of their customary sneer. Their eyes, bright marbles against the ashy grey of their skin, were clouded now with something she had only rarely seen in her time in the City: uncertainty. One of the first lessons she had learned among the drow was that, in the City, you were certain or you were dead.

If the unexpected show of vulnerability disturbed Lil'esh, she didn't show it. She paused from time to time to confer in low voices with this or that family group. Aliara stood behind her, close enough to hear what was being said but far enough to make it clear that she did not intend to speak. Lil'esh's questions were always the same: what did you see? Who made it out? Who did you lose? She made the appropriate sympathetic sounds, offering her condolences at the news of each new loss. Even Aliara recognized some of the names, and the scale of the loss shocked her. It was clear that drow society had suffered an unprecedented cataclysm.

Lil'esh would end each conversation with a request. If I bring you reeds, will you weave sleeping mats? What about you, can you fill amphorae with water? Can you send your sons to help us fetch and carry? She picked out a few drow and asked them to help organize the rest: never matriarchs and patriarchs, but usually their younger children.

Aliara quickly saw the wisdom in this. The older drow, despite their reduced status, still had a haughty air about themselves. Most of them looked down their noses at Lil'esh, younger daughter that she was, and wouldn't even glance at Aliara. Their daughters and sons, though, seemed slightly awed. They hung on to Lil'esh's every word. Some even asked her questions: what were the driders like, had she met Teysa, had she really fought Lord Lockh? They stole quick, furtive glances at Aliara, and some of them reached out as though they wanted to touch her, though fortunately none of them dared.

By the time their circuitous route had brought them back to the entrance, they had a half-dozen young drow in tow, trailing behind them at a respectful distance. "What now?" Aliara asked. "You have a shopping list?"

"I think I know what they need," Lil'esh said, nodding. "I know the driders have some of it. Other things, we'll have to barter for. We should talk to Jez'ria before the next time she goes to the market."

"The driders may have the stuff you want," Aliara said. "But there's no guarantee they'll give it to you. What happens then, hm?"

"They might not give me what I need," Lil'esh agreed. "But they won't say no to you." She watched Aliara's expression change and interrupted her before she could speak. "You did say you wanted to help. This is how."

Aliara considered this and gave Lil'esh a curt nod. She cocked her head towards the cluster of drow behind her. "Are you going to introduce me to your friends?"

"Of course. How rude of me." Lil'esh looked genuinely abashed. She turned towards the group and beckoned them. They approached furtively, so much like wild deer that Aliara almost laughed aloud.

Four of them were male, two female. It was hard to tell age with drow sometimes, but the oldest of them looked barely out of adolescence. Looking at them made Aliara feel terribly old. Apparently silver studs and rings were very in now; combined with their tattered clothes, they looked a bit like steppe barbarians, albeit fairly waifish ones.

Lil'esh called off their names like a schoolmarm. "This is Rovven of House Marlx, Lotthio of House Ebonne, Miv'ten of House Torrageth, Jurrik of House Yb'nlyt, Hia'lee of House Roan'stee, and Vikkell of House Nath'lei." As she called each name, the drow to whom it belonged bowed or curtseyed deeply. Aliara was rather touched by the display. The youngsters cast their eyes aside when she looked at them, desperately looking anywhere but at her face. She could feel them in her peripheral, sneaking glances at her when they didn't think she was looking. That kind of attention, she was familiar enough with, but even the male drow didn't seem to have a prurient interest.

"Who's in charge?" she asked. The drow sputtered and stammered, weaving back and forth as though the responsibility of command was a physical thing they could dodge.

"None of them are in charge, Aliara," Lil'esh chided. "I just asked for volunteers, and they're the ones who stepped up."

Aliara shook her head. She'd been watching the group with a trained eye. Lil'esh probably thought she was telling the truth, but the drow-- despite their emphatic denials-- were all looking at one of their number. It was instinctive, automatic. Aliara had learned that lesson early. There's one in every group. Maybe he's the leader, maybe he's not, but he's the one everyone looks to when the chips are down. Rising up unbidden came a follow-on observation:

That was Teysa in our group.

In this case, the leader was... come on, Aliara, you just heard his name... Jurrik. He was burly, by drow standards, which really just meant he had the build of a human male. His hair was close-cropped and came to a sharp widow's peak in the middle of his high forehead. Both of his ears were pierced, as were both eyebrows. He had a good-natured look on his face, a sort of "who, me?" grin. It faded when he saw Aliara staring at him.

"Jurrik," she said, pointing. He looked around, as though she could possibly be referring to anyone else.

"Yes, ma'am?" he said. Gods, he sounded young.

"You're it. If I have something for you all to do, I'll tell you and you tell them. And report to me when you're done. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am!" He saluted, though without much precision. Aliara nodded to him and turned back to Lil'esh.

"There. Now we've got some hierarchy."

Lil'esh shrugged, but she was clearly trying to hide a smile. "Very well, Aliara," she said. "Now can we move on?"

They had barely set off towards the Matron's audience chamber when Aliara stopped in her tracks. Realization had struck her between the eyes like a thunderstone. She couldn't believe she had forgotten something so elementary.

"Rakkec!" she said aloud. Lil'esh heard her and pulled up short. Behind them, their entourage murmured uncertainly.

"What about him?" Lil'esh asked cautiously. She still hadn't warmed up to the drow miner.

"He might be able to help! He's been excavating... maybe he could expand the chambers? Plus, don't you think he'll be grateful to be among other drow? I think he's been lonely lately."

"If you say so." Lil'esh sounded unconvinced. But, though she was plainly trying, she could not think of a good reason not to speak to him. "Maybe after we speak to the Matron?"