The knock on his door came as no surprise. Phaere's antagonism toward him had increased tenfold since the rescue, triggering an answering surge of resentment and anger that had culminated in his open defiance of her today, in front of the Nadsadians, no less. It was an affront that she would not ignore, and he had spent the hours since in a state of detached resignation, uncertain only of the manner in which she would order his death.

Word of his insolence had almost certainly reached the ears of Matron Illaine, and the fact that no messenger had come to summon him to Tathyyran for a reprimand meant that he was now worth more to his House dead than alive. Despana was drawing ever nearer to the fruition of some plot that would place them firmly in the position of First House in Ust Natha, and Illaine was desperate to do anything to halt that ascension; his murder, if it could be proven to be at Phaere's command, was the best chance of disrupting whatever plan was in the works.

Solaufein glanced briefly at his sword, resting in its scabbard on the weapon rack, before moving to the door unarmed, opening it to reveal Veldrin and the five others from Ched Nasad. An unsurprising choice; it had become all too obvious in recent days that she was grooming the outsiders – their leader, in particular – for some purpose, flattering him outrageously and dropping broad hints about the rewards that came to those who served faithfully, always with a cold-eyed smirk toward Solaufein as she did so.

Still, the warrior and his companions had proven themselves competent and canny allies, fighting with a unity that spoke of both experience and mutual respect. The warrior mage more than once found himself wondering if Ched Nasad was so very different from Ust Natha; that a male led this group was unusual in itself, but even more so was the obvious fact that none of his underlings sought to supplant him, nor did Veldrin truly treat his companions as subordinates, although Solaufein had noticed that his manner became markedly harsher when he knew that he was being observed. He had never openly rejected Phaere's advances, but neither did he fawn over her; this could either have been a ploy, carefully calculated to pique her interest, or could have meant that the Nasadian truly had no interest in the convoluted politics of Ust Natha.

He had developed a grudging and wary respect for the outsiders, and felt a stab of ironic disappointment at seeing them here now; politics and power had won the day, it seemed.

He stepped back to permit them to enter, his face giving no clue to his thoughts. "I was under the impression that we had been given a day of rest," he said quietly. "Have the Matron Mothers given us another task so soon?"

Veldrin shook his head his expression enigmatic. "Phaere has ordered me to kill you, Solaufein," he said simply, his crimson eyes watching the warrior-mage carefully.

Solaufein returned his gaze just as warily, wondering what sort of trickery was afoot; Veldrin had not seemed the type to play games, yet neither he nor any of his companions had made any attempt to draw their weapons. 'It was only a matter of time," he replied with a shrug, feeling…nothing. No fear, no anger, no hate; only a crushing weariness, a desire to end the empty farce that his life had become.

The other male exchanged a puzzled glance with the eldest of the females who accompanied him, a bleak-faced warrior named Jaheil, then turned back to Solaufein. "You don't seem overly concerned," he remarked, unable to hide his curiosity.

"The bitch has been killing me by inches for years," he said with no real heat, his voice matter-of-fact. "I've grown weary of the game; let it end here, if that is her desire." Phaere – the real Phaere – had died ten years ago because of him; his death now, by her command, would be some measure of justice, at least.

"Accommodating of you," Veldrin drawled, "but I wasn't planning on actually doing it."

Solaufein scowled at him, thoroughly perplexed now. "Why not?" he demanded in a growl. "if you think to curry favor with House Tathyrran, you're a fool. My death is their best chance of bringing down Despana." He snorted mirthlessly. "Even if you spare me, Matron Illaine will likely have me killed and try to frame Phaere; my outburst today made me too obvious a target for her to resist."

The second of the three females – and the one who had been the most displeased with Phaere's interest in Veldrin – laughed scornfully. "So, you would just lay down and die, male? It is small wonder that she scorns you so openly now."

"Enough, Viconia," Veldrin admonished her, and she subsided, though she regarded him with a contemptuous sneer.

He glared at her. Evidently, they had heard the rumors. "There was a time, Viconia, when Phaere looked at me in much the same way that you regard Veldrin when you think that no one watches." He saw her stiffen and knew that his taunt had struck home. "Such weakness may be tolerated in Ched Nasad, but you are fortunate, indeed, indeed, that there are few in Ust Natha who would recognize the significance of such glances."

"You loved her, then?" Veldrin asked quietly.

"I did," Solaufein admitted, "and she loved me…for all the good it did us. The Handmaidens and Matron Ardulace extinguished every emotion in her, save hate and ambition. For ten years, I have been nothing to her but a reminder of her weakness and what it cost her."

"And what has she been to you?" the other wanted to know.

"A source of guilt and regret," he replied curtly, turning away from them, giving Veldrin every opportunity to bury a blade in his back, if he so chose.

"You still love her, don't you?" Veldrin observed slyly.

The warrior-mage spun, his face dark with anger. "If you are going to kill me, then be done with it!" he exploded in frustration. "If you are not, then be on your way so that my own House can do it!"

"Would you consider a third alternative?" Veldrin offered after a brief silence.

Solaufein regarded him suspiciously. "And what might that be?" he asked.

"Leave this place," Veldrin urged him. "Let Phaere and your own House think you dead and strike at each other as it pleases them."

"Leave?" He stared at the male, trying to divine what treachery he intended. "And where shall I go? Shall I ask the devourers for sanctuary? Or seek asylum among the svirfneblin?"

Veldrin glanced questioningly at his companions, then turned back to Solaufein. "Come with us when we leave this place," he said quietly. "It's plain that you don't belong here."

"Come with you?" His gaze swept the group in bafflement before returning to Veldrin; the guarded arrogance that was the hallmark of virtually all drow was gone, and the other male's eyes held something that he had not seen since the death of his mother. "You do not speak of Ched Nasad, do you?" Unbidden, a spark of hope leaped to life within him.

"You serve the Moon Maiden," he breathed in awe, but the hope died as quickly as it had risen as he took in the uncomprehending expressions that most of them wore. His eyes flickered toward his sword, gauging the distance; death he had been willing to face, but he had all but shouted out that he was a worshipper of Eilistraee. A quick death in battle would be the least of what awaited him, if they chose to make their knowledge public.

Do you fear torture so much, coward? he asked himself bitterly. Could you bear even a fraction of the pain that she endured for your sake before breaking? Squaring himself, he stood before them proudly. "I follow Lady Silverhair," he proclaimed defiantly. "Kill me now, or deliver me to the Matrons. I will never renounce her."

Imirith, the youngest of the females, regarded him quizzically. "Lady Silverhair?" she murmured, then her face lit with reconition. "Oh, you mean Eili-"

"Silence!" Viconia snapped at the younger woman. "Do not speak that name here! It risks drawing the wrong sort of attention," she added to Veldrin, "but I might have known that this one would choose to follow Her."

"Noted," Veldrin replied, eyeing Solaufein bemusedly. "And no, we don't worship her, but as long as we're sharing secrets that could get us killed…" He cocked his head, his eyes gleaming with a humor that was as un-drowlike as the compassion that had been there moments earlier. "We're not really drow…except for Viconia, that is. We're surfacers. Imoen and I are human." He nodded toward the young mage, who gave a flourishing bow, her eyes dancing with long repressed mirth.

"Jaheira is a half-elf." The bleak faced female nodded at him curtly.

"Keldorn is a human, and a paladin of The True." The eldest of the males bowed slightly to him as Solaufein cast about in his mind, finally recognizing the title as one given to Torm.

"I knew that you were different the first time I saw you," he said, his voice deep and assured, calming, despite the inherent harshness of the drow tongue. "You shine like a light in this accursed place."

"One can only hope that he is not so transparent to others of our race," Viconia observed tartly, clearly still peevish at Solaufein's earlier astuteness.

"If he was, he wouldn't have survived, much less attain the status that he has," Veldrin reasoned, "and perhaps his goddess revealed him to Keldorn because he is meant to come with us. The quiet fellow over there is Valygar." He tilted his head toward a taciturn male whom Solaufein had rarely heard speak. "And my name is Caelor."

He stepped forward, his right hand extended. Solaufein, feeling as though he had fallen into a black lotus trance, took it in his own. Now, he thought. Now was when Phaere would stroll in, her cold smirk in place, having taken everything from him before she took his life with her own blade.

"Why are you here?" he asked hollowly as Veldrin/Caelor shook his hand.

"We are following two other surfacers," the warrior replied. "They have taken…something of value to us." He exchanged a glance with Imirith/Imoen. "Their names were Irenicus and –"

"Bodhi," Solaufein finished flatly, his upper lip curled in distaste. "They were here…they spent hours shut away with the Matron Mothers, but I do not know what was discussed, but it was shortly after they left that the attacks on the surface were intensified." He frowned as the things seen and heard over the past weeks began to fit together in his mind. "They were the ones to do it," he mused, half to himself. "Not even the strongest of the Matrons could have deceived the Silver One."

"To steal her eggs, you mean?" Caelor asked, chuckling at the drow's surprised expression. "Adalon is the reason we're here, looking like this." He swept a hand downward, indicating his appearance. "Im's good, but she couldn't pull off an illusion this complex for this long. We get her eggs back, she gets us out of the Underdark and back on Irenicus' trail."

"This thing that they took from you must be of great value, if you would take such a chance to pursue them," Solaufein observed shrewdly. "If you are discovered, you will pray for death long before it is granted to you."

Viconia bristled visibly at this, but Caelor stilled her with a gesture. "The same is true for followers of the Moon Maiden, I assume?" he asked, his lips quirked in an ironic smile.

Solaufein nodded, feeling an answering smile on his lips at the surfacer's canniness. They were each dependant upon the other now. And yet, he had not needed to reveal their secret; they could have gained much by turning him over to the Matrons, or simply killing him as Phaere had ordered. They had much to lose by sparing him and little to gain…as far as they knew.

"I may be able to help you," he murmured, gesturing toward his open bedroom door. "If I may?"

Caelor glanced toward the weapon rack, which sat beside the bedroom door, then nodded his assent.

Solaufein entered the room, crouching beside the bed, his fingers sliding along the platform on which it rested until they found the hidden release. A panel slid aside, revealing the cloth bundle that contained the long-untouched book of poems and a larger bundle, lumpy and encased in a burlap sack. Leaving the book still untouched, he withdrew the bag and brought it to Caelor.

"Fakes," he said as the surfacer peered into the bag and let out a surprised oath. "Phaere is planning some treachery; she forced a svirfneblin artisan to craft a set of false eggs, subtly marked so that only she could recognize them for what they were. Chance led me to follow her on that errand, and I commissioned a set of my own." Reaching into the bag, he drew out one of the four 'eggs': the size of a man's head, slightly ovoid in shape and glistening faintly silver. "These are not marked." He shook his head slowly. "I was not even certain at the time what use I would have for them, but you could switch these with the real eggs with none the wiser…even Phaere. It would give you time to escape before the deception was discovered."

"And you?" Caelor wanted to know as he accepted the false egg back from the drow and returned it to the bag with its mates. "Still determined to die?"

Solaufein hesitated, the part of him that had been stripped of all hope protesting cynically that what these intruders proposed was doomed to failure. The deepest, most carefully hidden recesses of his heart still belonged to Eilistraee, however, and he knew that this was as close to a sign as he could have ever asked for from her. It was time to truly trust Her, and if he died in the attempt, his death would at least be an honorable one.

"I will come with you when you leave," he said. "For now, I will leave Ust Natha and hide in the Underdark; return to Phaere and tell her that you have killed me." His lips twisted in a bitter smile. "She expects proof of some kind, I suppose?"

Caelor nodded. "She asked us to bring her your piwawfi cloak."

The words struck him like a slap to the face, and he winced as memories of the moonless night beside the spring arose to taunt him. Why would she have chosen that item, of all that she could have selected? He shook himself, schooling his expression back to emotionless neutrality as he retrieved the cloak from its hook on the wall, tossing it carelessly to Caelor. "A small enough price to pay," he said with a shrug.

The human eyed him curiously, but made no comment as he folded the cloak and tucked it under one arm. "Have you any idea where the real eggs might be kept?"

"The strongroom in the Temple would be the most likely place," Solaufein replied with a grimace. "Many relics and items of value are stored there, but it is heavily guarded, and only a few have the key. I am sorry to say that I am not one of them."

"No need to apologize," Caelor told him. "You've given us something that gives us a fighting chance of getting away with the eggs undetected. We just have to figure out how to get to them." He grinned at Imoen, who gave him a saucy wink in return.

The young woman's uninhibited spirit triggered a flash of memory that left him warring with himself before giving voice to his next words. "If Phaere is planning to steal the eggs, then she undoubtedly has some means of gaining access to them." His face grew bleak. "By enlisting you to kill me, she is likely trying to ensnare you in her scheming; if she were to give you her false eggs to replace the real ones, then those that I had made could add another layer of confusion, giving you more time to escape."

Caelor nodded slowly, watching the drow carefully. "You do realize that if she is planning on stealing the eggs, she'll be killed if she is caught?"

Solaufein's expression hardened. "I know what will happen," he said in a flat voice, "but the woman I loved died years ago. It is time for me to let go of false hope and follow the path that my goddess would have me tread." He thought for a moment; for them to simply claim to have killed him in his quarters would stretch credulity, particularly when no body was found. "Allow me to gather my things and leave Ust Natha; it is not unheard of for me to undertake solo patrols," he added with a bitter twist of his lips, "particularly after I have clashed with Phaere. Wait for a time, then meet me where you killed the svirfneblin patrol…or did you?"

As Caelor shook his head, the drow felt an obscure relief; while he had no real affection for the deep gnomes, Phaere's orders to kill them had merely been an excuse to exercise her power over both himself and 'Veldrin'. "Good," he said simply. "When you return to her, you can claim to have killed me in the Underdark and disposed of my body in one of the deep crevasses."

"That sounds like a good plan," Caelor replied after a questioning glance at the paladin.

Years of being subject to the whims of the Matrons had given Solaufein the ability to ready himself on a moment's notice; it was quick work to don his armor and weapon, and retrieve his travel pack from the corner where it lay, already provisioned for a three day patrol. After a moment's hesitation, he knelt beside the bed, retrieving the cloth-wrapped book and laying it gently in the top of the pack before tying it securely shut.

"I am ready," he announced, coming out of his bedroom to stand before them, marveling at the illusion that Adalon had wrought. If not for the expressions on their faces, the emotions so openly displayed, he would have been able to believe that he had imagined the conversation of the previous minutes.

"Not quite," Caelor corrected him with a slight smile, tossing the piwawfi cloak back to him. "Make sure that you're seen wearing that on the way out."

OOO

Hours later, the six returned, their outward demeanors once more indistinguishable from the other drow that walked the streets of Ust Natha. They paused as they drew near the massive stone building that housed the Female Fighter's Society, and Caelor stepped away from the group.

"I do not like her insistence upon seeing you alone," Viconia growled, not having to feign the displeasure in her face and voice.

"That decision is not yours to make," Veldrin growled in return, allowing only the faintest flicker of his true emotions to show in his eyes as he faced her with a reproving scowl. "Wait for me in our quarters; I will return when she has finished with me."

He could feel her eyes burning into his back as he walked away, warning him. She still did not understand that it was more than carnal desire that drew him to her, and carnality was all that Phaere had to offer him. It was all too easy to pretend not to notice the psychotic bitch's advances. Solaufein had to be out of his mind to still be nursing old feelings for her.

Ascending the stairs, he knocked upon her door, and was not overly surprised when she answered wearing only a sheer, silken robe of deep crimson. "It is done?" she wanted to know as she stepped aside to let him enter, closing the door in his wake.

"It is," he replied, drawing the cloak from his pack and handing it to her, trying to decide how he would escape her obvious intentions this time. "His body is at the bottom of the deepest gorge we could find; no one will ever see the body, or tie his disappearance to Despana."

"Good…good," she said, accepting the cloak. An unreadable expression flickered across her face. "It is truly done, then," she murmured, as though to herself, then her expression hardened as she turned away from him. "All love is foolish," she pronounced, tossing the cloak carelessly onto a chair, but she fell silent for a long moment.

"You have done well, Veldrin," she said without turning around. "It is time to introduce you to the Matron Mother of House Despana. Mother Ardulace is anxious to see the male who has done so much for Ust Natha. Meet me in front of the Temple in one hour's time, and I will take you to her."

"As you wish," he replied with the mix of obedience and confidence that so obviously intrigued her, puzzled by the apparent change in her plans for him but too relieved to tempt fate by questioning his luck.

"Do not be late, Veldrin." This admonishment was her usual way of dismissing him, so he simply bowed and let himself out.

As she heard the door close, she spun away from the cloak, the geas tearing at her mercilessly; it refused to allow her to grieve or to show the pain it inflicted upon her, but she had not wanted Veldrin to see the light sheen of sweat that could not be suppressed.

All love is foolish. Her words of ten years ago, returning to mock her, echoed by his reply:

Then I am a fool…and willingly so.

She had dared to feel a flicker of hope after her rescue from the illithid, but Ardulace had crushed it with her casual order, given only the day before, to have Solaufein killed. She could not disobey, could not warn him; she could only do as her Matron Mother commanded. He was dead now, killed by agents that she had commanded. There was nothing remaining for her now but to finish the plan that would bring about Ardulace's downfall, and revenge was the only motive left to her. Veldrin was a powerful male; she would bind him to her with greed and lust, then enlist him and his subordinates to switch her false eggs with the real dragon eggs in the Temple strongroom. The key was already in her possession, given to her by a foolish old woman who thought her power over her daughter complete. She would know only too late just how wrong she was.

Despana would have a new Matron, Phaere promised herself coldly: one who would make the old seem weak by comparison. No one would ever have power over her again.