Zideiri exchanges a look with Azniriss. She gestures to a vial and does the drinky-drinky gesture, then quickly hurries off. As she goes, she picks up vials, seeking a way to busy herself.
"I shall get the...bath filled. Azniriss, why don't you send for something refreshing to drink? Her ladyship is clearly exhausted."
Xiddik recognizes that this drow noblewoman isn't drunk - she's stoned out of her mind.
Zideiri's nose wrinkles with disdain as she recognizes one of the vials' labels. Right, I ought've known. Olviark's matey used to grab for that stuff.
She stuffs the vials somewhere discrete, then turns her attention to the bathwater. Don't get it too warm. Don't like it hot, these mammals. Know I don't right now.
Fíriel lets out a sigh and steps outside the door to call a servant to fetch some... something. Prickles, in the meantime, wrinkles his nose and huffs in offense at the smells in the room. Waddling out of his mistress's pocket, he heads over toward the bed, and when he arrives, he promptly begins to give the drowess a piece of his mind.
Hearing Firiel's request, one of the guards nods and departs of the nearest kitchen. Unfortunately, Prickles's chastisement falls on deaf ears.
It's takes a heroic effort but together, Azniriss, Zideiri, and Prickles manage to get Eskervalla out of her clothes and into the bath. The warm water helps to stir the noblewoman from her stupor and the beverage brought by the guards (a foul-smelling tea) helps a bit more. By the time she's cleaned up and her hair is washed, Eskervalla is at least partially cognizant but no more helpful.
"You two are terrible at this" she says bitterly as she's helped out of the water.
Azniriss gives a snort of amusement. "You're better at it, I suppose?" she asks. "How many suitors have you had so far?"
Azniriss's comment snaps the girl a little more out of her stupor. "A lady doesn't say", she says with a smirk.
"Officially: Just the one. My relationship with Sszatlab is more important to my Grandmother than I am. The man is a fool - even worse than a fool he's without the gift."
The gift? What gift - magic?
"Why is she so interested in him?"
"Males lack for many gifts, I'm afraid." Xiddik/Zideiri sniffs disdainfully. "Perhaps we waste our time expecting anything of them, madam."
Eskervalla laughs in an unladylike fashion at Zideiri's comments. "They're really only good for one thing..."
"His family is an important ally. They supply much of the onyx my aunt favors in her spellcasting. That is apparently valuable enough to keep me shackled to the fool."
"Hm. Well, if you will pardon me for saying, lady...if you must be shackled to someone, better a fool than an equal." Zideiri winks.
Belkah casts an eye around the Gray Market until he spots a servant girl or even an older matron running errands for her House. Flagging her down, he asks, "Quickly now, the best place for alchemy stuff? Looking for unicorn horn, at a good price!"
Jamleus looks around.
After cleaning up, Naktor and Neordyor make their way into the palace and into the formal dining hall. They are greeted by an elderly male drow whose features are drawn back in a skeletal cast. He studies the pair casually. "You two are new."
"Yes, sir. We were instructed to report here for guard duty."
The drow noblewoman gives Xiddik a glance with a bit more of the characteristic dark elf cunning. ”Well said I suppose.”
Eventually Eskervalla is dressed and properly primped. The trio exits the palace for the city and the pair of guards follow at a healthy distance. She stumbles at a bit at first but it’s clear the girl is accustomed to traveling while under the influence. The group enters Zirnakaynin and quickly traverse the busy, dirty, and terribly common lower section for the second tier.
Arriving at the designated restaurant, Eskervalla is quickly ushered to her date’s table where she sits before gesturing for Xiddik and Firiel to join her. Food is promptly brought out a moment later – a salad of mushrooms and nuts blanched in some kind of blood-red sauce followed by filets from some species of cave lizard. The meal is accompanied by music from a chorus of blind derro children.
Eskervalla’s date is much as she described him, vain and utterly banal. Eskervalla eats in silence and besides the occasional nod, remains silent.
Belkah manages to flag down a young darkfolk girl. ”Barek’s”, she chirps while pointing at a large stall, partially fortified with stonework, a few rows away. ”Best alchemist in the market.”
There’s an awkward pause as she stands there passively in her filthy rags waiting for something.
Satisfied with Naktor’s response, the elderly drow and nods and gestures toward the dining hall. ”The job’s simple. For now, keep an eye out for trouble while the servants get the space ready for this evening’s celebration. I trust you can handle that. Later tonight you’ll be on display but we’ll have real guards down here so it’ll just be for show.”
He looks from Naktor to the freakishly large and silent Neordyor. ”He doesn’t speak?”
"Rarely. He doesn't wish to say the wrong thing and offend, so he says little. Often a wiser course than mine." With a bow, he asks, "To whom do I owe my newfound information, sir?"
The dark elf stares at the brawny guard a second longer as if baffled by the sheer size of him. ”Good.”
”Harado”, he answers. ”If you run into anything you can’t handle on your own you come to me. Understood?”
Xiddik eats almost nothing, nibbling here and there to keep up appearances. She laughs quietly and politely whenever a joke is told, otherwise remaining silent.
Belkah pats the young girl on the head, a condescending smile on his face, and says, "Barek's, that's right! How could I forget? I'll remember you helped when you're in need." He then walks off, headed for the alchemist's stall she indicated, saying, "Come along, Jamleus."
The girl’s pale features twist in a scowl as the two drow wander off leaving her tipless.
If reputation is to be believed, Barek’s Apothecary is indeed the best place to get alchemical goods in the market as a small, but loud, press of market denizens crowd around pointing at this and that asking for prices. The scorched stone walls comprising two sides of the stall are lined with shelves storing all manner of exotic components and help to give the chaotic mess some sense of structure. Barek, an oddly thin and wild-eyed derro, stands behind his burly troglodyte thugs while haggling with customers.
Belkah approaches Barek's stall, biding his time for a few moments before stepping up to Barek and saying, "A vial of powdered unicorn horn, if you please, and charge it to my lady of House Vonnarc." If Barek hesitates, Belkah makes a point of displaying his signet ring, indicating his status as a member of the lady's household.
Jamleus holds his ring up too.
Barek eyes the pair with some suspicion. "A whole vial? That s@*&'s expensive. You two are really Vonnarc? This had better not be some kinda scam?"
"It's no scam," Blekah answers frostily, "do you really think I'd be fool enough to wear the Vonnarc emblem falsely? They wouldn't kill me, they'd keep me alive and in excruciating pain for eternity. Which you should bear in mind as you delay in filling my order on behalf of Matron Pravora."
The lean derro ponders Belkah's comments - That sounds like Vonnarc alright.
He jots down a note in his ledger and gestures to one of his thugs. The troglodyte grabs a vial full of sparkling white powder from one of the shelves and offers it to Asht. Barek nods in a way that says 'Our business is done' and then goes back to attending other customers.
Belkah nods back at Barek and slips the vial into his belt pouch, keeping a protective hand on it for the trip back. He gestures to Jamleus and says, "Right, let's get going, we don't want to be late." He leads the way back to House Vonnarc.
Jamleus follows keeping an eye on everyone.
The dark elf stares at the brawny guard a second longer as if baffled by the sheer size of him. ”Good.”
”Harado”, he answers. ”If you run into anything you can’t handle on your own you come to me. Understood?”
"Harado," he repeats the name back, nodding, "I am Naktor. The quiet one is Neordyor. Does 'trouble' have a particular face? We can keep our eyes open, of course, but if you are expecting trouble from a particular quarter, we can focus on it."
Jametor notices nothing out of the ordinary (besides an underground metropolis of evil dark elves) on the trip back to the Vonnarc grounds. Entering the palace, the pair are escorted downstairs under the main building into a dimly lit shrine. The room is cramped, humid, and stinks of sulfur. A number of female dark elves are assembled chanting around a demonic altar.
"The servants have arrived" one woman whose violet diaphanous robe is more elaborately decorated than the others hisses.
"Do you have the powdered horn of a holy beast?"
***
Harado scowls. "I don't know! Anyone and everyone that would risk tampering with tonight's festivities. Just make sure my people can work in peace."
Bowing, Naktor nods, "Yes, sir. My apologies for wasting your time. We only seek to perform the task perfectly."
He motions to Neordyor and they head in the direction originally indicated by Harado.
Over the course of the next couple hours, servants come and go through the enormous formal dining hall. The room is swept and dusted, lavish silken table covers are rolled across the tables and set with plates of polished obsidian, and bowls of candied mushrooms are set out for the guests. For the most part, the hours pass slowly except for the occasional servant that gets berated by Harado.
Nearing the dinner hour, Naktor spots a young servant boy filching a bowl of the candies.
Belkah bites his tongue at being referred to again as a 'servant' and presents the vial of powdered unicorn horn with a silent bow of his head.
Jametor watches the ritual with interest.
Fíriel remains fairly silent as well, though she does sneak a few mushrooms and nuts into her front pocket, whence comes the faint noise of chewing.
As far as Jametor can tell this isn't a spell.
The high priestess takes the vial and holds it high overhead. "Let the rite begin!"
Over the course of an hour, the dark elves perform their ritual, singing the praises of Abraxas, master of the Final Incantation and begging for greater magical lore and for the secrets of their enemies to be revealed to them. As the chanting reaches a crescendo, the high priests casts the vial of unicorn horn into a large brazier where it pops in a burst of dark flames. The humidity rapidly gets worse making the dark elves's gowns cling to their forms.
In an instant the room grows silent and the high priestess begins a chant.
"Mighty Abraxas! Glorious Abraxas! Share with us your gifts! Share with us..."
She opens her eyes and pauses, looking at Belkah and Jamleus.
Jamleus says in a strong voice, "what should not be known!"
Frustrated at his date's coldness, Eskervalla’s suitor eventually calls it a night, finishing his glass of wine and dropping a few coins on the table. It looks like he's going to depart but instead moves toward the ladies's side of the table and stares daggers into Zideiri and Azniriss. "See my lady home safely. It's clear she's had a long day", he spits.
Nearing the dinner hour, Naktor spots a young servant boy filching a bowl of the candies.
Naktor points out the youth to Neordyor. "It might be nothing more than a child wanting sweets, but it could be a planned distraction. We need to stop him or the detail-oriented Harado will be furious. I will keep my eyes open for something else while you make your presence known to the boy. You probably need not say anything, but if you do, say it quietly. Don't be nice, don't be mean, be firm."
He looks to see if the burly drow catches his meaning and returns to watching the room as he circles around behind the boy to cut off a retreat away from Neordyor.