Apparently

Lit'vi's story came out in pieces. Teysa's head was still spinning from the revelation that Lil'esh had a sister. "It's Lockh," Lit'vi explained. "He's gone off the deep end. He tried something in the Quorum, and it failed, and then he went off somewhere. Nobody knew where."

"We know," Lil'esh said grimly. "But go on."

"Anyways, he came back, holed up in his manor for a week, then marched into the Quorum and told everyone he was Emperor now. They laughed at him, obviously, and called their guards, but he brought his own. He... he did something, I don't know what, but he brought the Hall of the Quorum down. Maybe a dozen of them escaped with their lives."

"And Mother?" Lil'esh asked. Her sister looked away.

"I'm-- I'm sorry, Lil'esh. I know you didn't always see eye to eye, but she was proud of you. You should know that. She was proud that you were helping bring our people together."

"So what happened next?" Lil'esh asked. The pause before she spoke was so slight, so faint, that Teysa could almost believe it hadn't happened at all. But she could sense the sheer **** of will radiating off the girl.

"The Church sent priestesses to investigate, but before they could issue any kind of formal pronouncement, Lockh attacked them. His guards did. It was awful. He was using some magic, something I've never seen before-- like clinging shadows. There were shapes, like hounds, and empty suits of armor moving on their own. The priestesses tried to fight back, but he overwhelmed them. He killed some and the rest fled. Then he started killing nobles. The ones who had opposed him in the Quorum, at first, then others. The City... there's blood running in the gutters now. Martial law. His men patrol the streets at night, and anyone found out after dark just... disappears. His guards are enchanted, or something. They're like golems. The officers are all nobles, but they killed their parents and siblings all the same. Didn't laugh, didn't cry, they just ran them through. That's when we knew we had to go. There's a couple hundred of us, that's all that's left of the Great Families. Oh, and the priestesses. The ones who wouldn't proclaim him Emperor."

"He killed priestesses?" Lil'esh asked in evident horror. Lit'vi nodded.

"Killed and... worse. His hounds..." she trailed off and let out a choked sob. "Oh, Mother Below! We came here, Lil'esh, because I knew you were here. I thought you might protect us." Her lip wobbled and she burst into tears. "Please! We have nowhere else to go! We have wounded! And... there's Je'lyn."

Lil'esh jerked upright. "What's happened to Je'lyn? Was she in the Quorum when--"

Lit'vi shook her head. "No, she's alive. But..." she turned, and beckoned. A young drow woman stepped out of the crowd. Now that Teysa was looking for it, she could see the facial resemblance between this one and her sisters-- it was in the line of her jaw, the arch of her eyebrows, the curl of her pointed ears. None of those were what dominated Teysa's attention, tough. Je'lyn wore the same tatterdemalion finery as her sister, but beneath it she was heavily pregnant. Strands of silver thread worked into her dress rose over the gravid swell of her stomach, circling it like the bars of a birdcage. She cradled her belly in both hands and looked up at Teysa. She appeared younger than her sisters— though with drow, it was hard to be sure— and she looked nervous. No, not nervous— terrified. She’s heard the rumors, Teysa thought. She thinks I want to eat her child.

She knelt down, bringing her face level with Je’lyn’s. “Nobody here is going to hurt you or your baby, Je’lyn,” she said softly. It was impossible to know if her words were having an impact. The drow stared across at her impassively. “I promise you’re safe here,” Teysa repeated, and vowed to herself that she would keep this promise. If the Matron doesn’t like it... we’ll... we’ll work it out. The thought of confronting the Matron terrified her, but she could not leave these people out to Lord Lockh’s mercy. She could still see him across the battlefield, staring at her as she collapsed to the floor. And that shadow that had poured off him like smoke... This isn’t just some power-hungry lord staging a coup. There’s something we’re missing.

Impossible to think about that right now. “Are there wounded among you?” Teysa called out. “Bring them forward! Anyone who needs immediate treatment, bring them out!”

“What isssssss going on here?” The Matron’s voice boomed out across the room. Teysa turned to see her bearing down on them like a charging bull, flanked on either side by a pair of guards. She wore her silver tiara and nothing else. Her hair hung in two massive plaits the width of Teysa’s wrists, and the way they swayed as she advanced made them look like fearsome tusks.

“Matron.” Teysa fought the urge to genuflect. “I—“

“Invadersss!” The Matron pointed one finger and curled her other hand into a fist. “Come to finish usssss off?”

“No!” This shout came from a priestess, a tall and elderly drow who had pushed to the front of the crowd. “No, we coming seeking succor! In the name of She Who Spins Below! Please, have mercy!”

“They say there was a coup,” Teysa explained. “One of the drow Lords has taken over the city and purged the nobility.”

Behind her Aliara muttered something under her breath. It was too quiet for anyone with non-drider-like hearing to have heard it, but Teysa distinctly heard “Good riddance.” She tried to ignore it.

“Please, Mother,” El’keth said. “I think it was the man who attacked us. The one who hurt Teysa!”

The Matron stood, stroking her chin with her fingers. Her eyes danced from Teysa to the priestess to Lit’vi to the pregnant Je’lyn. “I ssssssmell a trick,” she said at length. “A russsssse, to bring down our guard after the invasion failed.”

“I believe them, Matron,” Teysa said. Speaking up then was one of the hardest things she ever did. Every instinct was screaming at her to shrink down, to remain silent, to avoid the Matron’s wrath. She steeled herself and **** herself to go on. “I think they’re telling the truth. They speak of shadow magic— the same thing I saw when we were invaded. And their need is obvious. Some of them are badly hurt, look.”

Indeed, the crowd was parting to allow through a parade of walking wounded. Some had to be carried, others limped supported by their friends and family. Some bore obvious scars from weapons, others had stranger and more horrific injuries. One man carried a curiously withered arm before him; it looked like a corpse’s, with blackened, twig-like fingers. There were a number of people with terrible acid burns. Two priestesses carried between them a stretcher on which a third lay motionless. Her left arm was missing below the elbow; a bright white stump of bone jutted from the shattered flesh. Her left leg was wrapped in bandages, but an awful stink of charred meat rose from the dressings. And her face... Teysa looked away. The right side was twisted in a grimace of pain, but that was better than the left, which was little more than a seared lump of fused flesh. All of her hair had burned away and her nose was a knot of gristle. Mercifully, she was ****, her chest rising and falling with a peculiar whistle. Behind her, Teysa heard El’keth sob in fright.

“Oh, gods above and below,” Aliara said, stepping forward and laying one hand on the end of the stretcher. “That’s Mish’li.”