The Drow Hath Sent Thee

by Martha Carr

  “The darkseller bazaar?” She frowned at him. “How is this where I’m supposed to be?”

  “Everywhere you are is where you belong, Cheyenne. Do not forget that.”

  “Okay.”

  Neros disappeared through the stone wall Mirl had opened the first time she’d been led down here.

  Cheyenne glanced at the dark ceiling of the passageway and shook her head. “That’s gonna get old.”

  She passed through the wall to rejoin her cousin on the other side. The darkseller bazaar of her dream glowed with a dark light seeping from every shadowy corner, like a photo negative. Everything was lit in reverse, the magical lights hanging from the curved underground ceiling casting the darkest shadows while the places that should have been the eeriest and hardest to see flared the brightest with shimmering light.

  “Why are we here?”

  “The darkness is part of you.” Neros’ footsteps whispered across the stone floor as he strolled casually down the alley in Hangivol’s most avoided marketplace. “As it is a part of me. Of all drow.”

  She stared at the body of a sleeping magical curled up in the open doorway of a shop as they passed. “The darkness.”

  “The pieces of yourself you have yet to accept.” Neros nodded, turning his head slowly left and right to take in the quiet stillness of the dreamscape bazaar. “Surely you know by now there is no light without the darkness.”

  “Now you’re feeding me clichés. Awesome.” She moved smoothly after her cousin, not quite walking and not quite floating. Venga said I’d be back here. Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not that kinda drow. The darkness will have to do without me.

  “You’ve been fighting for too long to be something you’re not,” Neros added.

  “Okay, that’s where I have to stop you.” Cheyenne stopped moving, and her cousin turned to face her with that same knowing smile. “I’m not pretending. Everything I am is out in the open for everyone to see.”

  She spread her arms, and Neros chuckled. “On the outside, yes. That is only part of it.”

  “I’m not following in Ba’rael’s footsteps if that’s what you’re trying to tell me.”

  “Not at all.” For the first time, the pale-skinned drow frowned and seemed at a loss for the words he wanted. “Ba’rael is lost. She always has been. But you have known from the beginning who you are. What you show the world of yourself is exactly who you must become to alleviate the plague the Spider set loose on both your worlds. It started within her, Cheyenne. And within L’zar. The time has come for you to return to what our race has forgotten. What we have abandoned for the pursuit of this power that consumes everything it touches.”

  Cheyenne narrowed her eyes. “Can you read my mind?”

  “I can see your heart, cousin. Now you are here to see it for yourself.”

  A shadow passed across the avenue of the bazaar, and Cheyenne spun to search the strangely glowing darkness. “What was that?”

  “Your next journey.”

  “You know, you haven’t gotten the hang of laying it all out there on the table.” When she turned back to him, Neros was gone. “Neros? Hello?”

  The clack of hollow bones and beads rustling came from behind her, and she whirled again to search the dark recesses of the open shop doorways and the displays of darkseller wares she’d rather not explore. A shadow moved again, then a form took shape in the darkness, a humanoid figure outlined in sharp spikes, sprouting feathers, claws, and stacked bones.

  What the fuck? You’re dreaming, Cheyenne. Get a grip.

  “Whatever you are, we’re in my dream. Got it?”

  The figure lifted two clawed hands to its misshapen head and pulled back an outer layer of the dark, feathered hood. Dark light shimmered on the slate-gray skin and bone-white hair of yet another drow, one she recognized.

  Great. Now I’ve got the damn bone drow showing up in my dreams. Cheyenne scowled at him. “What are you doing here?”

  R’leer’s kohl-blackened eyes roamed over her face, and the briefest hint of a smile flickered across his lips. “I knew I’d see you again.”

  This is the last thing I need right now.

  Bones and beads clacked again when R’leer circled her, crouching like a predator about to strike. Then he straightened and reached toward her with both hands.

  “What are you doing?”

  A dark flash of light exploded from his hands, and he clapped them together before jerking them back to him.

  The world shimmered around her. Cheyenne felt her body moving from somewhere far away, rushing through space to meet her here in her dream. Then her body and her dream-self slammed back together and threw her forward. She gasped and stumbled, coughing uncontrollably as the natural differentiation of light and movement returned to her. Everything that had been illuminated with the glow of her dream now darkened into shadow again, and the darkseller bazaar returned to its dull, dirty self.

  “What the fuck?” she wheezed, fighting to catch her breath.

  She stomped her foot on the ground, sending a jolt through her leg with a muted thump.

  I’m actually here. Like, for real.

  She even felt more solid as she patted down her sides and turned in a circle to view the rest of the bazaar.

  “I knew I’d see you again.”

  Cheyenne turned back to the creepy bone drow eyeing her with hungry amusement and scowled. “What the hell am I doing here?”

  R’leer raised an eyebrow. “You tell me.”

  She spun again, searching for Neros despite knowing he’d disappeared. Not a dream, though. What? Astral projection or whatever the hell we’re calling it? “I wasn’t really here.”

  “I saw your energy.” R’leer shrugged. “You were here.”

  “You saw my energy. Great.” Cheyenne staggered to the closest shop doorway and braced herself against the wall. All the weight and exhaustion she’d left behind in her sleeping body had caught up to her and was now dragging her back down. “I need to sit for a second.”

  “Suit yourself.” R’leer stepped quietly past her through the doorway, which happened to belong to his shop. He did stop to hold the curtain of strung bones aside for her. “You came here for a reason.”

  Rolling her eyes, Cheyenne followed him through the bone-strung curtain and stepped inside his shop. R’leer went straight to a counter along the left-hand wall and took a small drawstring bag of some scaly hide out of the folds of his feather-covered jacket before dumping it out on the counter.

  Cheyenne’s legs nearly gave out, but she lowered herself quickly to the floor to avoid falling and slumped against a shelf. Okay. Get a grip. I was dreaming. Or projecting or whatever. And now I’m here. How fucked up does shit have to get before I finally get a break?

  Chapter Seventy-Seven

  The clink and rustle of R’leer sorting through whatever he’d deposited on the counter filled the front of the shop as he worked. He cast her a quick sidelong glance but said nothing.

  Yeah. I can pretend to ignore you too, buddy.

  She smoothed her hair back from her face and took a deep breath. There’s no way Neros brought me here for no reason, so I have to ask.

  She sucked in a sharp breath when her fingers flared with burning heat. Cheyenne lifted her hand to see the tips of her fingers pulsing with dark-purple light. “What the hell?”

  R’leer stopped whatever he was doing and turned to her. His golden eyes widened when he saw her glowing fingertips, and he hunched again like a curious animal sniffing danger. “How did you get that?”

  “You mean, radioactive fingers?” Grimacing, she stretched out her hand, and the pulsing glow faded, along with the heat. “You’re the one dealing in dark magic.”

  “Drow magic.” R’leer stepped cautiously over to her, staring at her fingers. Then he pointed at her hand. “The Nimlothar marked you.”

  “What?” Rubbing her fingers, Cheyenne frowned at him. The bone drow’s glowing golden eyes seemed that much brighter surroun
ded by the dark, smudged kohl lining them. He’d fit right in with the Goth crowd if we were anywhere else.

  R’leer cocked his head. “Tell me.”

  “Tell you what? I don’t even know how the hell I got here or why any of this is your business.”

  He dropped into a squat beside her, beads and bones rustling and clicking when he draped his forearms over his knees. His eyes roamed her face again, then he looked her dead in the eye and didn’t blink once. “The Nimlothar marked you.”

  “Yeah, you said that already.”

  “Right here.” He grabbed her wrist and jerked her hand up so it hovered between them. The fingers of his other hand brushed hers, and he nodded. “I saw it. You felt it. Tell me how it happened.”

  Rolling her shoulder back, Cheyenne pulled her hand out of his and searched his gaze. “I’m not into holding hands. Or touching. Don’t do that again.”

  R’leer’s mouth twitched into a smile, and he raised an eyebrow. “But you touched the Nimlothar.”

  The tree’s visions came back to her, along with that first out-of-body experience. I touched it but didn’t touch it. And now the tree’s reminding me of this stupid promise by making my fingers burn purple?

  Cheyenne sighed. “If I told you, would you know what to do with that information?”

  R’leer tilted his head in the opposite direction and looked her over. “That depends on what it said to you.”

  “What it said to me.” She snorted. “You know trees can’t talk, right?”

  “You know that’s not true.” He glanced at her hand again. “The Nimlothar have not spoken to drow in centuries, but I’ve been listening. And you bear the mark. Tell me.”

  For some reason, Cheyenne couldn’t make herself look away from him. He’s a drow, and he knows old-school drow shit, right? That’s why he’s down here.

  “Okay, fine. But this is only because I’m out of ideas right now. Maybe you can help.”

  “Maybe.”

  When R’leer didn’t straighten from his crouch or give any indication that he’d stop hovering over her, Cheyenne scooted away from him, grimacing at the renewed throbbing of her hip and shoulders. Not nearly as bad as it used to be. I can take it. “I’m guessing at this point you know why I was in the Heart, right?”

  The bone drow’s eyes narrowed. “May the Black Flame reign.”

  “Yeah, okay.” I’m never gonna live that down. “When Persh’al Tenishi swore in as the O’gúl Crown, I was there with him. The Nimlothar showed me a vision of the dead forest. And it’s not dead.”

  “Correct.”

  Okay, well, he gets points for not batting an eye at that one. Maybe he’s more than a creepily pretty face. Who’s still way too close. Cheyenne dipped her head and leaned away from him.

  “I promised it I’d help heal the rest of the Nimlothar. And then today,” she said, glancing at her hand again, “I guess it wanted to remind me that I still haven’t held up my end of the deal.”

  “And it marked you.”

  “Seriously, that’s three times now. You got your point across fine the first time.”

  R’leer rubbed a long, slender finger back and forth across his lips and stared at her. “I don’t have the tools to help you fulfill that promise.”

  “Great.” Cheyenne closed her eyes with another heavy sigh. “I shouldn’t have expected it to be this easy.”

  “But I know who does.”

  “Really?”

  R’leer stood, his over-the-top ornaments rustling and clicking as he strolled across his shop. “We’ll go together.”

  “Oh, jeez.” She rolled her eyes. “Look, if you’re about to tell me there’s an Oracle who can answer all my questions, forget it. And the Sorren Gán can suck it too, okay? Once was enough, and I got even more than that.”

  He turned swiftly to look at her over his shoulder. “You spoke to a Sorren Gán?”

  “Among other things, yeah.”

  R’leer’s golden eyes flickered across his shop, studying the dark corners. Then he nodded at the back. “I promise this is nothing you’ve seen before. Few drow have.”

  “Great.” Cheyenne gritted her teeth and tried to push herself off the floor. Her arms shook beneath her, her eyelids were heavy with exhaustion, and she thumped her head back against the shelf again. “Any chance we can put a hold on this for like a few hours?” Something tells me I got way less than the recommended hours of sleep.

  The bone drow moved in a blurry streak of gray, black, and white and slipped out of enhanced speed right in front of her.

  “Jesus.” Cheyenne leaned away from the slight breeze brought by his movement and the small pebbles tossed across the floor of his shop in its wake. “Could you not right now?”

  R’leer offered her his hand and dipped his head. “If you want to see, Cheyenne, it must be now.”

  So he does remember my name. Guess I’m still good with first impressions.

  She stared at him for a moment, then reached up to take his hand. He helped her swiftly to her feet and took a lot longer than necessary to release her. He didn’t bother to back out of her personal space, either.

  “This is what we’ve all been waiting for.”

  Cheyenne swallowed. “What is?”

  He leaned sideways, studying her like she was a prized work of art instead of a half-drow with personal boundaries. Taking a deep breath through his nose, reminding her a lot of the way Neros had first examined her, R’leer gestured at the back of his shop again. “Come.”

  He turned away from her and headed in that direction, the bones and beads on his weirdly feathered jacket and headdress clicking with every step.

  Right. Get all up close in my face but don’t give me a straight answer. Maybe I’m the only drow who thinks that’s an issue.

  Cheyenne followed him through the shop, gazing at the darkseller’s wares with a mix of hesitation and amused curiosity. The ogre woman who was apparently R’leer’s assistant wasn’t anywhere to be seen, and the shop was empty of other magicals. At least until they reached the back room.

  She smelled the sharp, pungent odor before R’leer led her around the corner. Thick tendrils of white smoke wafted up from the closest corner of the next room, slightly obscuring the figure cloaked in black rags and huddling there in the darkness. The smoke rose from the burning top of a hookah in front of the hunched figure, and when the thick white smog cleared as R’leer strode past, Cheyenne recognized the Oracle Ur’syth.

  The crone’s black-painted eyes were closed, and a thin stream of dried red trickled from the corner of her wrinkled mouth. She breathed slowly and steadily but didn’t open her eyes or move an inch.

  Cheyenne stopped and stared at Ur’syth. Just because her eyes are closed, it doesn’t mean she’s sleeping. Guess now I know where she disappeared to.

  “I said, no Oracles,” she muttered.

  R’leer turned and glanced at the motionless crone. “Ignore her. Where we’re going, she can’t follow.”

  Cheyenne frowned at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He met her gaze with his golden eyes. “You’ll see.”

  As he continued to the other side of the back room, he reached up to stroke a lantern of red glass hanging from the ceiling. The magical light inside that was casting the entire room in an obnoxious red glow winked out, and the smoke trailing to the ceiling streamed away from the lantern as if R’leer had blown out a huge candle.

  Blinking in the darkness, Cheyenne moved cautiously after him, avoiding the piled metal plates of half-eaten rotting food and a metal pot that smelled even worse. Jesus. If he’s gonna keep the Oracle down here, he should at least dump out the chamber pot.

  “Why is she here, anyway?”

  R’leer stopped at the top of an even darker staircase and turned back to study the smoke-filled room. “Sanctuary.”

  “From what?”

  “More than even I know.”

  Cheyenne wrinkled her nose. “You could use a m
aid in here or something.”

  R’leer looked her over again, and that small smile returned. “Trust me, I’ve tried. Her hovel is worse.”

  When he disappeared down the stairwell, Cheyenne found herself imagining the inside of the crone Oracle’s hut in the dark courtyard where she’d given Cheyenne that last vague, interrupted prophecy. Someone needs to set some serious boundaries for his guests.

  The bone drow’s footsteps echoed up the dark stairwell toward her, and Cheyenne braced herself with a hand against the wall before descending after him.

  Another soft light illuminated beneath R’leer’s hand as he brushed his fingers against the glass lantern at the base of the stairs. This one was made of black glass and shed enough light to see the stone wall less than five feet from the last step. Cheyenne stopped before reaching the landing and searched the small space. Dead end. I need to stop giving drow the benefit of the doubt.

  Beneath the dark light, R’leer pressed his finger against five different points in the stone, then drew lines between them and twisted his hand on the wall. Everywhere his finger touched, a thin purple glow trailed behind and faded again. Only after he’d finished the spell did Cheyenne’s activator pull up some flickering lines of code in her vision.

  So the tech still works this far underground.

  When she tried to read the coded lines, she found a different data stream she hadn’t seen moving through the rest of the city. The code faded before she could zero in on what it meant, and the stone wall let out a muted whir of gears, followed by a series of heavy thumps. The wall shivered and drew apart like elevator doors, revealing a metal contraption behind it, dozens of tiny metal gears covered in a thin layer of rust still moving.

  “What is this?” The question slipped out of her before she could stop herself. Great. Now I’m putting out the clueless-drow vibe.

  R’leer studied the whirring metal contraption that looked kind of like a door and delicately tapped a finger against the moving parts when they reached the desired location. “A portal.”