She joins the band of adventurers as their newest member

One year later

“Hey, where is everyone?”

Aliara was still blinking the sleep from her eyes as she spoke. She’d awoken in darkness, alone, with the blinds drawn and the big bed empty. The former wasn’t much of a surprise: anyone who wanted to get any sleep in Vollerat invested in heavy noise-dampening curtains, since the city’s hubbub never dipped below a roar. The city was lit from above by a magical sphere that waxed and waned in brightness to approximate a diurnal cycle, but that was merely a courtesy; down here, trade went on at all hours and at full volume.

It had taken Aliara some time to adjust to a new lifestyle, but adjust she had. She’d had a lifetime to learn to adjust, after all, and Lotho’s team had been eager to welcome her once she’d agreed to join them. She learned quickly that they had their own way of doing things, very different from the way her old outfit had operated. It shouldn’t have been a surprise after her introduction to Talia’s tonic. Aliara sometimes couldn’t tell if her new companions were friends, lovers, or something like adoptive siblings. It changed from day to day, and in her own mind, she could feel the categories blurring together.

She’d fallen asleep draped over Kurk’s muscled form, with Rhuyem snoring gently on her other side, and awoken alone. The acrid smell from the next room told her that Talia was in, no doubt mixing up some new brew, but the others were gone. Aliara padded out of the bedroom into Talia’s laboratory, shaking off the last traces of her nap as she went. She wore a long white cotton shift and a pair of silk moccasins.

“Oh! You shouldn’t be in here!” Talia yelped as Aliara crossed the threshold and hopped down from her workbench. “The fumes! You’re in a delicate condition, Ali!”

Aliara smiled. “I’m not made of glass, Tal,” she said. “And I can tell by the smell you’re mixing up nightsmoke unguent. It stinks, but it’s not dangerous to me. Or to the baby.” She cradled her belly, which had just recently started to swell. As far as she could tell, she was about six months pregnant—though identifying the exact date of conception, like identifying the father, was an impossible task.

“Even so, though,” Talia groused. “Here, come with me into the kitchen. I think Lotho left stew.”

They two of them descended the stairs. Their group operated out of a modest two-story house near the edge of town. That was another strangeness for Aliara to get used to: in all her years of adventuring, she’d lived on the road. She’d occasionally talked of buying a tavern (the traditional adventurer’s retirement) but had never seriously expected to settle down in one place for long. And yet with every passing day the house with the scorpion over the door seemed less like a way station and more like home.

“How are you feeling?” Talia asked, supping at a spoonful of soup. It was rich and thick, with chunks of potato and leek bobbing in the savory broth. Aliara nibbled gently at a piece of potato before answering.

“I’m ok, really,” Aliara said. Talia’s question had obviously been meant lightly, but there was a thread of tension audible beneath the surface. “I haven’t thrown up recently. I’m having some heartburn, that’s all.”

“Heartburn? That’s not good.” Talia shook her head back and forth. “We could take you to a healer, you know. We just got paid for the Idlestone job.”

Aliara laughed and held up a deflecting hand. “Talia, it’s fine. Heartburn is normal. I can live with it. Stop worrying so much about me.” She cocked her head and gave the gnome a wry grin. “Why are you so protective, anyways? You’re the one person here we know didn’t knock me up.”

“I still feel responsible!” Talia wailed. “I was the one who mixed up the anti-quickening tea! It’s the simplest recipe in the world! How did I screw it up?”

I don’t think you did, Aliara thought. This was well-trodden ground she had no wish to revisit, but she thought Talia was mistaken when she blamed herself. Her time with the driders had altered Aliara’s body in all kinds of ways, and she suspected that her body’s unnatural fecundity was one of them. After the baby was born, she’d go see a druid and get herself figured out. For now, it was just one of life’s mysteries. Aloud, she said “I don’t see this as a screw-up, do you?” She laid one hand against her belly and smiled. Even more surprising than the pregnancy itself had been her reaction to it. She’d been briefly horrified, but as her time drew nearer she found herself looking forward to it more and more. She’d never expected to be a mother, had certainly never wanted it after her encounter with the Matron, but the thought of having a child—a real child, a soft child with hair and a face and wiggly little fingers and toes—had awakened unexpected maternal instincts in her.

“I guess not,” Talia said, though she sounded unconvinced. She stirred at her soup dejectedly for a moment, then brightened up. “Hey, do you think it’ll want to be a monster hunter when it grows up? Like its mom and dad?”

Aliara hid her smile behind her hand. “I wish you wouldn’t say it, Tal,” she replied. “And if he or she wants to be, I guess so. I dunno, is this what you want to be doing forever?”

Talia shrugged. “Sometimes I thought about opening up an alchemy. You know, full-time. But then what would the others do?”

“Work at the shop, maybe,” Aliara suggested. “Or, I dunno, Rhuyem could probably get a decent job with the city. What did Lotho do before he found you guys?”

“I think he was a soldier. He never really talks much about it.” Talia stared momentarily off into the distance, a sure sign that she was about to change the subject. No topic, no matter how weighty, could hold the gnome’s attention for too long. “Hey, the baby is going to be a one-quarter-elf, right? Is that a thing?”

Aliara shrugged. “Maybe three-quarters, depending on who the father ends up being.”

“You think you’ll be able to tell? If it—if the baby comes out with brown hair it could be Kurk or Lotho.”

“Well, if she comes out normal size, her father definitely isn’t Kurk,” Aliara laughed. “Really, it doesn’t matter. It takes a village to raise a child, right? We’ll all do it together. Two moms and three dads.”

“That’s sort of how gnomes do it,” Talia said. “My dad was off traveling more often than not, but I had two uncles to help out. And my grandma.”

“There you go, then,” Aliara said. “Everything will be fine.” She finished her soup and pushed her bowl back. Her throat was already tickling a bit, and she poured herself a glass of water. The important thing now was to stay vertical. Lying down just made the heartburn worse. “Where is everyone, anyways? They were all gone when I woke up.”

“Oh!” Talia’s eyes widened, as though she’d just remembered something important. “Oh, that’s right! They, uh… they went to the market to do some shopping.” She spoke too quickly, and the little grin she tried to hide at the end set Aliara’s nerves on edge. The half-elf’s eyes narrowed.

“What’s going on, Talia?” she asked, resting her hands on her hips. “Where are they?”

“It’s fine!” Talia squeaked. “No problem! Why don’t we go for a walk?”

Aliara stared at her for a moment longer. Talia was a terrible liar. For a moment, Aliara considered pressing her on the issue, but she decided to let it drop. If the others were whipping together some kind of ill-conceived surprise for her, she at least wanted to see what it was. It might be worth a laugh.

“I’ll get dressed,” she said. “And then let’s go to the Fane. I want to talk to Mother Night.”

Talia didn’t seem thrilled about this choice, but she nodded nonetheless. Clearly, she’d have accepted any excuse to get Aliara out of the house. Aliara dressed quickly, in a simple linen tunic and robe. She would have preferred her rogue’s leathers, but there was no chance of them fitting now. The robe at least was voluminous enough that her condition was not immediately apparent to passersby. There were many aspects to pregnancy that she found less than appealing, but the apparent license it granted strangers to touch her belly and ask impertinent questions was surely near the top of the list.

Vollerat was known as the Patchwork City, a fraction the size of the drow capital but many times as dense. Solid houses of doughty dwarven masonry butted up against gnomish tent camps and even hobgoblin hovels. Unlike many of the great metropolises of the Undernearth, no one race or faction held dominance here, and the result was an uneasy peace. Overnight, the elvish district might swell to encompass previously neutral ground, only to recede when natural migration reduced their numbers again. This process was mostly peaceful, enforced by a cadre of guards whose loyalty was to the ruling Pentarchy over their own kind.

This constant, cosmopolitan churn was nowhere more evident than in the temple district. Shrines and chapels of all descriptions crowded together, and every streetcorner was adorned with a dozen or more statues or sacred stones. The architecture here was a crazy quilt of stone, mud, brick, and more exotic materials, as each new arrival threw up a house to their God or Gods with whatever was on hand. As faiths waxed and waned, the occupants of one temple would move out in search of a more appropriate space, and the empty building would quickly be claimed by a new owner. A squat brick building in the human style housed a temple to the goblin deity Girrek, while a domed hut of baked mud was the current headquarters for the elven Cult of Shileen.

The Fane of Lolth was a narrow tower built of cyclopean blocks of black stone. Faint carvings were still visible on the lintels, relics of the original builders. Aliara tried not to look too closely at them as she passed. The symbols made her head hurt and filled her with anxiety. Of all the faiths of the Patchwork City, this one, she fervently hoped, would never resurface.

Inside, the building was much cheerier, thanks to the tireless efforts of the priestess known only as Mother Night. Drow tended to the svelte, but Mother Night was positively chubby, with round cheeks and a plump hourglass figure quite at odds with the drow Aliara was used to. Perhaps that was why she felt comfortable talking to her. The priestess had a jovial air about her, but Aliara knew that that was a façade over a soul of steel.

Aliara crossed the threshold and blinked in surprise. Normally, the sanctuary was decorated with votive portraits of the Mother Below, each accompanied by a dozen ebony candles. The walls were barren now, though, the spiderweb mosaics packed up. Aliara could see the raw stone where they had been.

“Mother Night?” she called. An icy trickle of fear crept up her spine. Her voice seemed to echo oddly without the portraits to baffle it. “Are you there?”

“Aliara!” The drow priestess’s voice was as jolly as ever, though it was impossible to miss the tightness in it. Mother Night bustled out of a back room with a crowbar in one hand. She had it half-raised, as though she meant to use it as a weapon, but lowered it when she saw her visitor. “Aliara! Such a pleasure to see you again.”

“What’s going on, Mother?” Aliara asked. “Are you moving out?” The Fane had been in this building as long as Aliara had been in Vollerat. It was prime real estate, carvings notwithstanding. She was surprised to see Night giving it up willingly.

“I am, child,” Mother Night replied. She looked down. “I am glad you came by, actually. I was worried I would not get the chance to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” Aliara tilted her head in confusion. “What building are you moving to?”

“We’re not,” Night replied. “We’re leaving the city.”

“Leaving the city?” Aliara was stricken. She was not a worshipper of Lolth herself. Her feelings towards the Mother Below were far more ambivalent than that. But she’d come to appreciate Night’s company, and that of her small but gracious band of worshippers.

The priestess nodded. “We’ve received word that the shadow soldiers are on the march. They came through Ruby River a fortnight ago. The city stands, but they put every temple of Lolth to the torch and crucified Her priestesses.” Night spoke matter-of-factly, but there was deep pain behind her eyes. “The Pentarchy has met and decided that we shall not be extended the protection of the city. Their neutrality,” she spat the word as though it were a curse, “forbids them raising a hand against Emperor Lockh.”

Aliara shuddered. She’d run as far as she could go, and yet her past always seemed to find her. As if seeing her fear, Night laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“You’ll be fine, child. They don’t care for conquest. They just mean to exterminate our faith.”

“But what about you?” Aliara asked. “Where will you go?”

Night shrugged. “There is not much safe ground left west of the Molten Lakes. Perhaps I will go to Ebonshroud. The city still declares for Lolth and calls its banners to resist Lockh’s incursion.” The tone of her voice told Aliara how little hope Night held that Ebonshroud could resist. “Or maybe I will go minister to the driders. I hear rumors that the warrens are gathering. Lockh’s army slaughters every drider they meet. **** times make for **** allies.”

Teysa. Aliara had not thought of her former lover in weeks, yet her face swam into view, perfectly clear. Teysa, her coal-black hair bleached grey, her soft pink skin stained as dark as granite. Teysa, her eyes pupil-less spheres of darkness, yet as warm and loving as they had ever been.

Teysa, dead on the ground, her spider legs snapped like twigs, ichor dripping from a dozen mortal wounds.

She might still be alive. We have not heard anything from the warren in months. Perhaps they fled. They could have dug deeper, out of Lockh’s reach. Try as she might, Aliara could not quite make herself believe it.

“You can’t stay?” Aliara asked. “We could hide you. Hide your flock. You could shelter with us, we have the space.” Behind her, Talia made a surprised noise, but before she could say anything Night shook her head.

“With your baby coming? I could not put you in such danger, child.” She smiled sadly. “And I cannot hide my light under a bushel. My duty is to Mother Lolth. I cannot forsake her, not even to save my own life. I will go to the driders. The Revelation has spread to most of the warrens by now. They know we serve the same Goddess. Perhaps they will protect me. If not…” she shrugged. “I would rather die at the hands of Lolth’s daughters than Lockh’s abominations.”

Aliara felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She blinked them back. It’s the baby, that’s all, she told herself. She makes me weepy.

“Good luck, Mother,” she said aloud. “Someday, this will end. No king rules forever. Someone will depose Lockh. When that happens, you’ll come back, right?”

Mother Night shrugged again. “One day at a time, child, one day at a time.” She sighed. “Lolth teaches that we have to solve our own problems. We cannot wait for a divine hand to solve them for us.”

Talia had hung back during their exchange, but as Aliara was leaving she fell in stride alongside her. “Sorry, didn’t mean to pry,” she began, “but I couldn’t help overhearing that.” She paused, as if trying to figure out what to say next. “You know that we’ve never really pressed you on what happened just before you joined us.”

“And I appreciate that,” Aliara said.

Talia took the hint and shut up… for a while. But the gnome was irrepressible, and as they made their way back to the house with the scorpion over the door, she spoke up again.

“I know you spent some time with the driders. And I wouldn’t blame you for feeling bothered about what’s happening to them.”

Aliara shrugged. The casual gesture did not betray the intense self-control she was exerting. “Talia, I lived through a lot before I met you guys,” she said. “It’s in the past. If there’s something I need to tell you, I’ll tell you, ok? You have to trust me on that. I’m trying to focus on the future.”

“Well… ok,” Talia said. She brightened up. “Hey, we’re almost home!”

“And I wonder what we’ll find there?” Aliara asked. She looked down and smiled. Talia’s stricken expression told Aliara that the gnome had thought she was being very clever indeed.

The sound of a three-way argument greeted them as they approached the front door. It was coming from upstairs, and though the words were inaudible, Aliara could clearly pick out Kurk’s low growl, Lotho’s sharp tones and Rhuyem’s melodic voice. Talia knocked loudly at the front door before pushing it open, and the voices cut off abruptly. Just as Aliara had removed her boots and changed into her moccasins, the three men appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Aliara! Talia! Wonderful to see you ladies again!” Lotho began. Talia rolled her eyes.

“She knows something’s up, Lo,” she said. “I told you she’d figure it out.”

“Ah, is that so? Very well.” Lotho didn’t seem put out. “Aliara, dearest, how are you feeling? How was the walk?”

“My back hurts and I keep feeling like someone dunked me in the Molten Lakes,” Aliara replied. “But other than that, fine.”

“Well… that’s to be expected, I suppose,” Lotho said. “Come on upstairs, if you can. We have something to show you.”

She followed them upstairs, through their shared bedroom, into the turret that clung to the side of the building like a limpet. The turret had been part of the reason they’d bought the place—it gave the house a slightly mystic aspect, like a wizard’s tower. The room was small and inconvenient to get to from anywhere but the bedroom, so mostly Rhuyem just used it for a meditation sanctum. Now, though…

The walls had been painted in vivid pastels. Aliara could smell the drying paint. Two sconces had been in stalled in opposite corners, each bearing a gently glowing rock like a tiny version of Vollerat’s artificial sun. Between them dangled a mobile. And in the center of the room was a carved wooden crib, its bars dark-veined mahogany, its rockers study pine. There were other pieces of furniture: a few chairs, a long low table, a cabinet in one corner, but at the sight of the crib all the strength ran out of Aliara’s legs. She swayed, and Lotho and Kurk hastened to catch and steady her.

“Oh, guys…” she breathed. “It’s…”

“It’s a nursery,” Kurk helpfully provided, as though that wasn’t obvious. Pride welled up in every syllable. “We wanted to have a space for the baby where you can be close by.”

“The table’s for changing,” Rhuyem explained. “And the crib—”

“I think she knows what everything is for,” Lotho said, a ghost of a smile playing about his lips. “Aliara, love, I hope it’s to your satisfaction. We wanted to do something special for you. Something to show you how welcome you are and how much we treasure you.”

Aliara’s vision blurred. Just the baby, she told herself again, it’s just the baby making me this way. And she could almost believe it.

“Thank you,” she murmured once she had found her equilibrium. “Thank you. You’re all so kind. Rhuyem, what will you do?”

He shrugged. “Meditate in the stables, probably. It’s warm.”

Aliara sat down in one of the chairs, which still smelled of freshly carved pine. She couldn’t imagine how much all-wooden furniture had cost; down here, wood was rarer than gold. “It’s lovely, everyone,” she said. “And I hate to be a bother, but my legs are cramping something awful. Rhuyem, could you please conjure a fire under the tub? I think I need to become half-elf soup.”

Once the bath had been drawn and the water heated, the others withdrew, leaving Aliara to sink backwards beneath the suds. A half-dozen candles scattered around the room filled the air with a floral scent. She knew she was being a bit of a stereotype, but she couldn’t help it. Hot water untied the knots in her calves and relaxed the tension that had been building all day.

It wasn’t just her pregnancy that was leaving her feeling out of sorts. She kept thinking of Mother Night, of the reservation in the woman’s voice. Of her determination to preach her Goddess’s word even to the ****. The determination reminded Aliara too much of Teysa.

Her chest stung, and not from heartburn. Guilt welled up inside her. It wasn’t my fight, she told herself. It wasn’t fair to ask that of me.

She knew she was right. And she had a life now, and a child. What tugged at her was the ghost of what might have been. You couldn’t live your whole life haunted by that ghost. Perhaps if she had chosen a different path, she would lie dead in some nameless tunnel below the City, and everything else would have played out just the same. She had made her choice, and she did not regret it, but she did have to live with it.

That was what freedom meant.