No, she wants to handle this herself

Aliara shook her head. She looked from Lady Do'von to Ruvvel to Lil'esh. Lil'esh looked pleading, Do'von judgmental. Ruvvel was unreadable. His eyes were like little chips of flint in a craggy face.

"I get that you want to be methodical," she began. "I really do. But in my line of work, I didn't always have time to really case a joint. Sometimes, you just have to make do. But I won't ask you to go against your instincts." She took a deep breath. "I'll go. Myself."

Lady Do'von favored her with a tiny smile, as if to say I knew it. She nodded her head respectfully. "I wish you luck, then," she said. "May you find shelter in Her shadow."

Lil'esh, on the other hand, seethed. "There are easier ways to kill yourself!" she snapped. "I understand that you have been under a lot of pressure lately, but this is just-- the risk, it's too fast, and you're putting yourself at--"

Aliara held up a finger and, for a wonder, the drow woman fell silent. "Lil'esh," she said. "I'm coming back. Don't worry. But I have to do this my way. Every time I try to follow other people's advice I end up in trouble. I have to trust myself." She did not wait for a response, but turned to the Matron.

"Matron. Will you send a warrior with me? We could travel faster if I don't have to be afoot. And I suppose I'll need backup."

The Matron nodded. "Luneth," she said, and a shiver ran up Aliara' spine. For some reason, she'd assumed that the Matron would send Zir'ekk.

The elf-drider stepped forward and spoke without turning her head. Her eyes stared off into the middle distance, ignoring both her Matron and Aliara. "I will do this thing, Matron. You wish him slain?" She sounded so placid, so calm, like she was discussing an unpleasant and slightly dreary chore that, nevertheless, needed doing.

"Yesssssssss. And bring Aliara home sssssssssssafely, will hyou?"

"Of course." Luneth turned to the Matron and brought her fist to her chest in salute. "When should we depart?"

The Matron looked at Aliara and arched her eyebrows. "Right away," Aliara said. "Sooner the better. Do you need to bring anything?"

"Some things. I will meet you at your chambers." There was no hint of an offer or a question in Luneth's voice. She was merely stating what the future would be.

"You're making a mistake!" Lil'esh blurted out. "Come on, tell her, Lady Do'von. Tell her what a bad idea this is. Maybe she'll listen to you."

"She's made her decision, Riiv," the old woman said. She shook her head. "Not the decision I would have made, maybe, but it's hers to make. And who knows? Maybe I'm just a cautious old woman." She caught Aliara's gaze and smiled. "This girl's got some fire. She wants Lockh bad."

Aliara said nothing, but she grinned.

"A word of advice, though?" Lady Do'von looked serious all of a sudden, her eyes narrowed, her mouth a thin line. All at once, without seeming to pass through any intermediate stage, she went from kindly old grandmother to bitch-faced old crone. Even her voice deepened into a creak like the squeal of a rusted hinge.

"If you let yourself care, you're making yourself weak. Rage will kill you as fast as mercy. Be a professional, do the job, and don't take more pleasure in it than you absolutely have to."

Her face softened, and once again she was smiling beatifically. "Good luck, dearie!"

Aliara nodded to Lil'esh and genuflected somewhat more deeply to the Matron and Lady Do'von. Her heart thudded in her chest. It was hard to **** herself to walk as she descended the spiral and headed to her room.

Teysa wasn't there. The Matron had been as good as her word and kept her away. Aliara tried not to think of her as she packed a small travel bag. A change of clothes, some bandages, a velvet pouch with her thief's tools, her blades, and a tiny bottle swaddled in cotton. She unwrapped it and held up it up in front of her. It was made of crystal-glass and stoppered with black wax, a tiny vial no bigger than her littlest finger. The liquid inside sloshed gently back and forth as she tilted it. She'd bought this at the Undermarket ages ago, around when she had first come underground with Teysa and the rest of them. She hadn't used it yet, but she knew what it did, and she had no doubts as to its efficacy. The tox-mongers of the Undermarket were well known... among a certain set.

She'd kept it hidden from Teysa: some sixth sense told her that the paladin would be obliged to disapprove. And in the chaos of their capture, she'd thought it was lost forever. But, perusing the armory one day, she'd caught sight of the little finger of glass, tucked away between a silver Amazonian war-helm and a battered dwarven shield.

And now she had a target. It was fate, Aliara believed that whole-heartedly. She wanted to kill Lord Lockh and avenge her beloved, and fate had delivered her the weapon she needed.

"Are you ready?" Luneth's voice snapped her out of her reverie so abruptly that she almost fumbled the vial. It twirled through her grip for a heart-stopping second before she snapped her fingers closed around it and clutched it to her palm. Even now, she was careful not to break the vial. If the vial broke, she probably wouldn't even have time to regret it.

"Luneth!" Aliara cried, and looked up. The drider was standing in her doorway, her bow in her hands, a leather bag slung over her shoulders. A thicket of arrows bristled from the quiver strapped to her back. She was wearing a silver circlet with a tiny silver blossom crowning the middle of her forehead. It glowed with inner moonlight, reminding Aliara of the candle that some miners wore on their helmet. That made her think of Rakkec, and she felt a pang of regret that she hadn't said goodbye to him. I'll just see him when I get back, she thought, and the hopefulness of that thought made her smile.

Aliara palmed the vial into her travel bag and laced it tight. "I'm ready to go when you are," she declared. "How are we... exactly..."

Luneth knelt, tilting her abdomen to one side until it rested on the floor. She said nothing, but gave Aliara an expectant look.

Aliara shrugged and clambered up onto Luneth's back. As soon as her foot left the ground, the drider stood, and Aliara had to cling on tightly to keep from sliding off. That was a challenge, in itself: everywhere she looked there was nothing but smooth chitin, tufted with tiny hairs that poked Aliara's palms like needles. Eventually she resorted to leaning forward and wrapping her arms around Luneth's waist. The drider's skin was warm, smooth, and hard, like well-worn leather. There was not a scrap of spare fat on her. Aliara grabbed on reflexively and reddened. "Sorry..." she mumbled. "I'm just, I'm trying to..."

Luneth said nothing. She did not even appear to notice. She finished rising to her feet and took a few steps out into the corridor. She looked over her shoulder and asked, "Are you ready to move?"

Aliara shifted around a little. Now that she wasn't about to topple off, she found that Luneth's back was surprisingly comfortable. Her abdomen was flat and smooth, but narrow enough that Aliara could straddle it easily. She didn't want to slide forward too far-- that seemed uncomfortably personal. But with her arms extended, she could hold onto the drider's flanks well enough that there seemed to be little danger of sliding off. The whole experience was odd and disconcerting. In the world above, she'd heard of centaur tribes who let their elven allies ride them. This was... like that, she supposed, though stranger and darker. This close, she could smell Luneth, an oddly spicy scent that reminded her of camphor and cinnamon.

"Ready," she declared, uncertain of whether she was. Luneth didn't pause to double-check. She set off at a rapid scuttle.

The drider could move deceptively quickly. Stalactites whipped by overhead, some so close that Aliara ducked involuntarily. She had hoped to enjoy the view as they traveled, but quickly found that it was all she could do to hang on for dear life. Luneth moved smoothly, not at all like the jolting gait of a horse (Aliara had ridden, but had never really gotten the knack), but the combination of speed and the claustrophobic press of the stone all around them made Aliara cling on until her knuckles turned white. They left the warren behind them in the first few minutes. Luneth evidently knew where she was going; whenever they approached a fork in the path, she picked one without pausing and darted down it.

The landscape blurred past, occasionally widening out into a cave or following a river. Luneth never slowed, not even when the tunnel sloped uphill. She seemed tireless. Once or twice Aliara tried to start a conversation with her, but the wind whipped the words from her mouth. At least the ride wasn't too uncomfortable. Luneth's torse remained level, even as her spindly legs picked their way across broken ground. Once, she skittered halfway between wall and floor to pass over a rushing stream that bisected the path. Another time, they came to a chasm that yawned in the middle of the floor. They were traveling so quickly that Aliara barely had time to notice it before it was upon them. Aliara took in a deep breath to scream, but before she could, Luneth's limbs bunched up beneath her and she launched herself into the air. They soared through the darkness for a moment and landed heavily on the far side of the put. Aliara squeezed as hard as she could, with fingers and thighs both, and somehow didn't lose her grip. Luneth had landed hard on six legs, with the last two waving helplessly over the abyss. She lurched forward, her last two feet found the stone, and then they were off again.

After that, Aliara forgot about the view or the conversation and tried to focus on holding on. There were no more jumps, and after a while, the rhythmic scuttle of Luneth's limbs became almost soothing. Aliara found herself lulled. When the drider slowed to a jog, then a walk, the half-elf jolted awake the rest of the way. She was momentarily disoriented. "Wha? What's happening?"

"We must hunt." Luneth knelt again, and Aliara let herself slide off the drider's back. Her legs wobbled like jelly beneath her, and she had to find a rock to sit down on before she fell over. Luneth didn't even appear to be winded.

"Hunt?" For a moment, Aliara's thoughts were all over the place. Luneth looked down on her with the same carefully blank expression as always, but Aliara thought she detected a hint of scorn in those glossy black eyes. But maybe she was just tired.

"Yes. I did not bring food. This part of the Underneath, though, is rich in game. Troll-kine, lichen grazers, naga."

"Nag-- you eat naga?" Aliara had thought herself fairly jaded, but she couldn't keep the expression of horror off her face. Luneth took it in stride. "Yes. Prey that can fight back is the finest prey of all. The scaly ones taste much better than the cave-fish they feed off of. Something about the way they struggle before they die... it flavors the meat." She smiled, revealing dozens of needle fangs. The expression didn't reach her eyes.

"I don't... I can't..." Aliara stammered weakly. She felt for her knife at her belt and was relieved to find it still there. Luneth fingered her bowstring absentmindedly, rubbing it between two fingers.

"There is a stream near here. Fish, if you want." The drider turned away and nocked an arrow from her quiver. "I will return."

She didn't wait for Aliara's input on the matter. She just scuttled off and was quickly swallowed by the gloom. Too late, Aliara realized that she had taken the only light with her.

The darkness that descended was near-absolute. Aliara wasn't afraid of the dark, but there was something about the gloom of the Underneath that got under her skin. Perhaps it was the knowledge that whatever light there was in the world, it was far, far away. This darkness wouldn't lift with the rising of the sun. She didn't even know if the sun was still shining, far overhead. Perhaps it had gone out in the months she'd been down here. Perhaps this was all that was left of the world, this subterranean maze. She told herself that she was being morbid. It was the anticipation setting her nerves on edge, and the all-consuming darkness making her mind wander.

A faint glow, perhaps coming from the stones themselves, gave the darkness a shape. It was far too dark for any human to see, but her eyes were starting to adjust. She may not have been a full-blood elf, but she could see a little in the dark-- enough to make out the floor and walls, the curve of the tunnel, all limned in blue-black shadows. Now that her breathing had returned to normal and she was sitting still, she could hear water splashing somewhere nearby. Fish, Luneth had said. Well, Aliara didn't have a fishing pole, but she had her knives and she was quick. She set off, picking her way carefully across the stone.

The stream turned out to be little more than a shallow brook, no more than ankle deep. Aliara crouched by its side with her knife poised above the water. Sure enough, a school of fat white troglodyte fish, eyeless things with flabby fins, burbled along. She missed her first thrust and the things scattered indignantly, but her second speared one right through the gut. When she went to retrieve it, its slime smeared her fingers, and she fought to keep from wretching. The vile thing flopped weakly on the end of her blade. She bashed it against the rock a couple of times until it stopped moving, then gingerly peeled it off.

She took two more fish over the next half hour, then figured she'd caught enough. She did her best to wash most of the slime off in the running stream, but it seemed to stick to her and her catch. The smell of it wrinkled her nose-- a sulfurous stink of decay.

She paused, crouched by the stream. A chill ran up her spine. For a moment-- just a moment-- she was certain that there was something watching her. She felt the gaze like an insect crawling across her back, some loathsome vermin with twitching antennae and skittering legs. Her heart raced. She gathered her wits and whirled around, ready to stab, and--

There was nothing there. Of course. The feeling dissipated as quickly as it had come upon her. In its place crept in a sick, nauseous loneliness. She was deep underground, far from home, far from anyone who had ever loved her. She had set herself on a **** mission, and even if she succeeded, she might never see Teysa again. Why? Why was so I eager to do this?

The answer came at once, bubbling up from the depths of her soul with a wet chuckle. Why not? What do you have to live for, anyways? The woman you love? She's dead, Aliara, dead and gone. Savior of the drow? Sure, why not? You're a good little ****. You know your place. Serve your masters. Die to save them.

It took an effort of will to shut out the thought, and even as it went, its nasty little laugh lingered in her ears.

She picked her way back through the tunnel, carrying her rotten catch. She thought she remembered the grotto where Luneth had stopped. It was empty now, but Aliara dumped the fish on the ground and took a seat on a rock. She realized, too late, that she hadn't brought any kind of tinder for a fire. The thought of eating these things raw didn't appeal to her, but she'd had worse on the road. And maybe the drider would have found something more appetizing.

She was waiting for no more than five minutes before Luneth returned. The first sign of the drider was a dim glow in the distance. Her circlet shed the faintest possible light, like a crescent moon barely cresting the horizon, but in the stygian darkness of the Underneath it positively shone. The second sign was the rapid patter of her feet against stone. Aliara squinted to make out the shape in the drider's arms, but with the light in her face, she couldn't see any details. Luneth closed the distance between them quickly and dropped her burden on the floor. She tilted her head down, and Aliara got her first look at Luneth's catch.

It was a kobold. A live one.

An arrow shaft stuck out of its shoulder, and dried blood crusted its tunic around the wound, but it was very alive and very awake. Luneth had bound it at wrist and ankle with webbing and tied another strip around its mouth to stifle its cries. It stared plaintively up at Aliara and whimpered through its gag. Her breath caught in her throat. She had no great love for kobolds, but...

"Luneth, are you going to eat this thing?" She gestured to her fish. "I mean, I caught some fish... it's not much, but we can share. Don't tell me you're going to eat a kobold."

A thinking creature, she left unsaid. A humanoid, never mind how degenerate. Her mind rebelled at the idea. She had been in tight spots over the course of her life and had done dreadful things, but never yet cannibalism. The thought repelled her.

"No," Luneth said simply. She set her bow down carefully and shrugged her pack off her shoulder. Rooting around inside, she pulled out a clay jar sealed with wax. She broke the seal with a flick of her fingers. Inside there were some kind of powdered herbs-- the smell that rose off them reminded Aliara of her mother's kitchen, long ago. Luneth pinched some between her fingers and then, to Aliara's surprise, spilled them on the ground. She worked quickly, carefully, her every movement economical. Ignoring the wriggling kobold, she dropped pinches of herbs onto the stone floor of the cave and spread them out in a circle. There was something ritualistic about her actions, and Aliara watched her with mounting concern.

"Luneth, what are you doing?" she asked. The unease from earlier was back, but much worse. Her heart was hammering fit to burst. Something, some instinct deep at the base of her brainstem, was telling her to run, now, and don't look back.

Luneth finished whatever she was doing with the herbs and tossed away the jar. She reached back into her bag and drew out a wickedly curved silver sickle. The moonlight from diadem blazed off its razored edge. She closed her eyes and began to sway back and forth, chanting. Aliara didn't recognize the words, but she recognized the tongue: deep-woods elven, a language as ancient and twisted as the gnarled trees at the forest's heart.

The air grew thick and humid. Aliara caught a whiff of peat. "Luneth, what is this?" she asked. She couldn't quite keep the tremble out of her voice. "Luneth, stop! What are you doing?" She got to her feet and groped at her belt for her knife. Before she could draw it, Luneth reached a crescendo. She threw her head back at the same instant her hands plunged down. The silver dagger speared into the kobold's heart.

The air stood still for a moment, then the ground rumbled beneath Aliara's feet. Vines erupted across the kobold's body. They burst from its mouth, its ears, its eye sockets, their thorns spearing into its flesh. Bloody mist filled the air. The rapid, explosive growth overtook the kobold's sad corpse in a matter of seconds. The few scraps of flesh Aliara could see shriveled, as though drained dry by the thirsty thorns. Where the kobold had been sat a thick, green-black bramble bush, its limbs trembling in an unfelt wind.

Before Aliara could react, the bush began to shrivel, too. Before her eyes it disintegrated like a dandelion shedding its seeds into the wind. What remained of it was a greenish haze in the air, like smoke. Luneth let the dagger fall and held her arms open, hands outstretched, palms up. She inhaled deeply, and the haze flew to her like a swarm of bees. It settled onto her skin, looking for all the world like moss growing over a granite statue. She breathed in again, and the moss sank into her flesh. It suffused her from the top of her head to the seam where her waist met the spider body. She grinned-- the first genuine expression of emotion Aliara had ever seen her make-- and opened her eyes.

Aliara stood dumbstruck. "Luneth, what the hell was that?" she demanded. "Some kind of... of ritual? What have you done?"

"Sacrifice," Luneth said. Her voice had not changed, and yet it had. There was emotion in it now, a hint of something beyond her customary deadpan. She sounded less like a drider and more like an elf. The change, however, was not to her advantage. Where before she had sounded bored, now she sounded positively threatening. Aliara took a half-step back despite herself.

"Why?" she asked feebly. "What was that ritual for?"

Luneth focused her gaze on Aliara. Green flecks swam in the depths of her eyes. She smiled, and reached for her bow.

"Fertility."