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[Solanaceae]

---

The sunset draped over the western forest in waves of purples and red before Solanaceae put the last seedling to bed. She brushed her fingers across the rough canvas apron, her evening’s tasks were waiting. Hemlock mewed hungrily, weaving in a figure “8” about the fae’s legs and nearly causing her to fall into a shelf of potions and pots. She frowned at the cat’s persistence, but did not scold her. After coming so close to losing her beloved pet, Solanaceae didn’t have the heart to be cross with her. Moving the rock hiding the basement cold cellar, she reached inside, and filled a stone planting bowl with the ground fish for Hemlock’s supper. Soon the cat was content, food and water dishes full, and Solanaceae prepared to tend to the rest of her charges.

The sound of movement on the porch drew Solanaceae’s attention, and she looked out over the balcony to see a plainly dressed drow servant, a package wrapped in black silk cradled in his arms. It was here! She rushed down the stairs, taking them two at a time, and tearing off the dirty apron as she went. The servant backed up in surprise at the unseen door opened in the wall next to him, to reveal her face, flushed a deeper shade of purple.

“I have been sent--.”

“No time to chat.” Solanaceae interjected, cutting off what would likely have been a grand and unnecessary proclamation of his purpose, something her impatience would lot abide. She took the package from his arms and muttered a thank you as the secret door shut him out again.

The bundle was soft, giving easily under her grip and she clutched it to her bosom, sprint up the stairs and across porting runes until she reached the roof. The stars were just beginning to claim the evening sky, giving her light as she knelt within the well tended pentagram that served as the heart of her smaller magic work garden. Solanaceae lay the bundle in the center of the symbol and unwrapped the silks, carefully.

Inside lay a black receiving blanket, made of uncommonly soft fabric and embroidered with silver runes and spider webs that glimmered in the starlight. She opened the folded blanket and gingerly lifted the small cluster of white hair from the inside she knew would be there. One by one she braided each strand of fine hair into her green tresses, locking the knot magic into each braid with an ancient chant, and a string made of hemp.

Thirteen braids brushed the sided of her neck as Solanaceae leaned to lift the blanket from the nightshade if rested upon. She covered her face and head with the blanket, and removed a short baton from a box near the outer circle. Each impact of ebony against flesh force a grunt of pain from her lips, and painted deep bruises over her body. Tears crept down her cheeks and she parted her lips to receive them like an eager lover. Just two night before she’d taken vision inducing cacti juice, only to learn her goddesses’ gift had increased her resistance to such toxins beyond anything she’d ever dreamed of. Now she knew her tears and suffering were the only way to take herself deep enough to do what needed to be done.

The effects of the pain and the hallucinogenic nature of her tears didn’t take long to do their work. Arid heat swept over Solanaceae’s body, and the soft sounds of a child’s breathing filled her ears, raising slowly in pitch until the whispered breath became a roar. The sweet taste of innocence rode on the harsh air, the echoes of a baby’s laughter.

Like a beast swooping to claim its prey, the ancient smell of death and hate was there, wiping away all else. The childish mirth was silenced, soon to be replaced with a wild and mad laughter, a sound that vibrated through Solanaceae, clawing at her spirit and fighting to take hold. She struggled against it, feeling the beast’s hunger. The glimmer of the fae spirit within her that over time had gown dim, the symbol of the childlike nature of her people… It wanted that part of her.

It wanted…

Solanaceae shrieked, gripping the blanket to her protectively, as if it still held the little priestess. Eyes wild, she tore through the space under the north east altar, retrieving the book hidden deep within. In an instant she stood before the Tangled Web, disheveled in appearance and desperately searching. They had to know. Time was running out, and soon…

Soon that which was most precious would be lost to them forever.

[Dealthagar]

---

"You want me to what?"

Dealthagar watched her motions closely as Solanaceae nervously tugged at the hem of her blouse. "I need you to bind me into the Matron Kal'iksix's bloodline."

The Herald chuckled as he contempated the fae's words. "And you think I can do this?"

"You have often said there is nothing the power of Technomancy cannot do." The fae nodded. "I could not think of any other that could do this with haste."

Dealthagar paused in contemplation, taking a handkerchief from the folds of his robes and dabbing the black tears that ran from his hollow eyes. "Well, of course I could do it. Why the haste?"

Solanaceae sighed in what he guessed was frustration. This was the second time he had made her explain her idea to him, and she had probably worked it all out for the Matron, but he wanted to make certain the dialated pupils, indicating her altered state, were not the focus of her decision. "When i was still able to use my glamour, my sisters and I often used our blood tie to communicate. We could find each other if lost, or hurt or trapped, speak to each other over long distances and share our thoughts. I am thinking if I have the same tie to the matron and her family I can find the missing baby."

"And you have spoken to the Matron Kal'iksix and she is alright with this? I would not want to draw the ire of our allies."

Solanaeae nodded and produced a large vial of blood. "She allowed me to draw this from her once I explained my plan."

His eyes widened and he took the vial. Holding it up to the light, he smiled. "Go bathe. No scents, no oils, scrub yourself pure. Then return here in just a simple robe. I will prepare the vat."
_________________

The Three Truths of Singularity
Do something to the best of your abilty or don't do it at all
Feel to the fullest of your ability, cutting yourself off from your emotions leads to spiritual death
Control your being, your existance, your destiny.
www.adriandrake.com

[Kal'iksix]

---

“She saw her,” Kal’iksix muttered to herself, pacing the temple floor. Kal’iksix spirit rose a bit upon hearing Solanaceae was able to “reach” the priestess just by the bit of the blankets and Shri’hrae’s strands of hair. Kal’iksix chuckled recalling the image of the white strands braided among the green hair. Kal’iksix recalled the frenzied state that the fae had been in when she ran up the temple stairs, obviously looking for the Matron to discuss what she had seen.

Solanaceae had spoke of a curse that would take away something crucial to the priestess, time that the priestess should have had with the matron. Hell that was happening this very moment that the baby was not home with Kal’iksix and Drayden. However Solanaceae was able to reach the child, it caused her much pain and distress. Kal’iksix told the fae to go rest before trying to reach the infant again. Then the fae told the Matron of another way to reach the baby, one that would allow her to “speak” to her and to assure her that the matron was on hunt to getting her back home.

“blood tie” the fae whispered, trembling uncontrollably. Solanaceae proceeded to explain that it was a special bond that would bind the fae to the drow bloodline and assist in zeroing in on the baby’s location. All she would require was a blood sample of the closest relative to the baby. Solanaceae seemed frightened to ask the Matron for the sample, questioning if such practice was allowed in the drow culture. Kal’iksix paused, watching the fae’s eyes maddened with what she had seen.

“Normally no, but I will allow such as it is imperative to the bloodline of my House,” Kal’iksix had replied offering her wrist. “Take from me as the Goddess’ blood flows through my veins."

The fae began searching through her backpack looking for something. When she was unable to find what she was looking for, she asked the Matron for a blade that had been blessed in the moonlight. Kal’iksix, not knowing the exact origin of her ceremonial daggers, grabbed the sharpest one from the pile, and handing it to Solanaceae handle first. The fae pulled a small vial from her pack and then looked at the Matron with almost a fearful look on her face. She trembled again as she spoke the next part of her request.

“Pardon me, your Majesty, but blood from the breast is the closest to the blood from the womb. Could you please pull down…” Kal’iksix had already begun unbuttoning her top to expose the area that the fae needed. Kal'iksix bit down on her lip as the blade sliced into her ebon skin. Gathering what she needed, the fae chanted and close the wound and passed the dagger back to Kal’iksix.

“I will ask the Herald to assist me with this task and will return to you as soon as it’s complete. If successful, what message would you like me to pass onto the priestess?”

“Tell her that her mother and father will be retrieving her soon and to not make this situation easy for those who have her. Please, Solanaceae rest first before you try anything.” The fae nodded and ran off.

Kal’iksix turned and opened communication with the Goddess.

“Ilhar, ka dos inbal jalbol ulu xun xuil nindol, talinth nindol morad dosst elghinn sentence.”
[Mother, if you have anything to do with this, consider this action your death sentence.]

A bolt of pain shot through her body as the Goddess replied to the accusation.

“Dalharil, lu'oh kuuv dos crup folt d' uns'aa! Usstan orn'la neitar xun jivviim natha potential powerful obok yathrin. Nindol zzikhc d'lil xund d' dosst dalninuk.”
[Daughter, how dare you accuse such of me! I would never truly harm a potential powerful high priestess. This smells of the work of your brother.]

“VHAERUN!!!!” Kal’iksix screamed at the top of her lungs.

[Dealthagar]

---

Dealthagar watched with amusement as the fae buckled her nude form into the harness. She was a grown woman, but the petiteness of her form, the lack of curves and impish voice always gave the impression of something more child-like. Seeing her like this changed the impression he had of her. She looked up at him silently as he took her arms and inserted the needles and tubes. "This won't hurt much, but the first few hours after you come out of the vat may be a bit disorienting." She nodded, and he could see the twinge of fear that tainted her grim determination. "You have nothing to fear, this is a minor physical change...I have done this hundreds of times."

"I fear for my...identity."

He smiled and nodded, attaching the breathing mask to her face and tightening the straps that would hold it in place. She would not feel it or remember it, but the convultions could be quite energetic. "You have nothing to fear. You will be yourself. This is a physical change. You may grow a bit taller, a little darker, your sences change a bit...nothing too outrageous. Your body will adapt. You are taking an active hand in your own evolution." He powered the winch and it hoisted her into the air and then slowly lowered her into the vat. "I will see you in a few hours. Sleep well."

The anesthetic nature of the fluid affected her quickly as he lowered her into his vat, and after fighting it for a few moments, she slumped in the harness. He began the machines that connected to the vat and the tubes, syphoning her vital fluids, and replacing them with his mutanagenic nectar. He opened the lid of the sluice vat. It was beginning to fill with a mxture of her mostly green fluids and the pinkish nectar that carried out the largest amount of the transmutave work. It had taken him years to perfect it, and it was one of his proudest achievements. He poured in most of the vial of Kal'iksix, keeping just enough for him to culture a larger sample from later. You could never tell when such a thing would be useful.

As the mixing paddles stirred the vital essences together, he looked down upon his helpless apprentice. She wanted the gift of second sight. She embraced the madness that came with it. She understood the suffering she would need to do to walk the Path of Oblivion. Every apprentice he had taken over the years had made a mark on the world. He would give her the same chance.

Splitting his fingertip, he allowed three drops of his entropy-infused black blood to drip into the vat befoe closing the wound. A gift. Just enough to seed the taint. Enough to let her begin to see the universe though his eyes.

Closing the vat, he listened to it churn for a few moments, before opening the sluice gate, allowing the mixed fluids to enter her body. It would be a few hours, but the anticipation of what he had done would make the time go quickly. He licked his lips. Chaos was such a beautiful thing.
_________________

The Three Truths of Singularity
Do something to the best of your abilty or don't do it at all
Feel to the fullest of your ability, cutting yourself off from your emotions leads to spiritual death
Control your being, your existance, your destiny.
www.adriandrake.com

[Ceinwyn ab'Arawn]

---

Ceinwyn remained in the shadows, watching her husband work on his apprentice, a slight tinge of jealousy as he shared his potent and intoxicating vitae with another. In the back of her mind, the words from various conversations with Drayek swirled together.

"I worry about him..."

Ceinwyn worried about him, as well.

She marveled that this bit of the lab was even still functional, at all. Most of it had been destroyed with the rest of their home when he had pushed his gift to such great extent. He was always busy, busy, busy, a fascinating man to watch work. She hoped that in his business he had not forgotten his promise to her.

She also hoped that the sprite Solanaceae would be successful in retrieving the infant priestess. But if not, she knew that there were many others among the order that had the capability to do so, herself among them. Someone would find the infant, of that there was no doubt.

As of yet, there were still entirely too many reasons for someone to seek to abduct this important child, and she longed for solid answers.

[Solanaceae]

---

For the second time in two weeks Solanaceae found herself relearning the terrain and depths of her own body. For centuries the fae knew herself as intimately as she did the land her people stood caretakers over. She shifted uncomfortably at the edge of the stone wall, and looked out over the eastern horizon. The ache throbbed deep into her muscles until even her skin felt tender. She held her hand up to the light, barely aware of the morning chill moving over her bare flesh.

Her skin. The belladonna petal color had transformed into a shade of purple so deep, that in the shade it looked nearly black. Solanaceae’s gaze traveled down her arm, and shivered as she took in the whole effect of what she saw. The once black ritual scars she’d worn since her rites of womanhood were now a silvery white, like the moon herself, and small designs that resembled spider webbing hung under the curves and peaks in the patterns. The change was hardly subtle.

Solanaceae drew one of the thin braids between her two fingers. Hair that had once been a leafy shade, had become a venomously exotic shade of green. She detached the binding on the braid and found the weaving would not come loose. When she looked closer, Solanaceae noticed the strand of hair that had been locked in each braid had become a strip of silvery white running through the green. She groaned softly and the throbbing of her muscles pulled for her attention.

Her eyes widened, as a thought seeped into her mind. To test the theory Solanaceae left the roof of the Heralds home and made her way deep into his windowless laboratory. Almost instantly the pressure and pain over her skin disappeared, and her aching muscles gradually relaxed, relieving a good deal of her discomfort.

The blood of the Matron. The drow intolerance for sunlight. Solanaceae had not considered that these might be responsible for part of her pain. She had been so focused on finding the baby, about helping the Matron and her household… Now, it was too late. The sun that use to fill her with life and revive her spirit, now that same sunlight caused her pain. With all the changes that had come over her, Solanaceae wondered what else about her had changed. How deep was the metamorphosis, as the Herald put it, her evolution? She glanced at the vat in the corner of the lab. It seem to taunt her with its withheld secrets.

She touched her neck with the back of her hand, and was relieved as the feverish feeling began to cool. Absently she drew her fingers down her throat and was rewarded with an unexpected tingle of pleasure. Curious, she let her finger continue over her chest and down her stomach, slowly, tentative. The shiver that shook her body was unlike the one of fear previously, this time it was a deeper sensation, more primal. Was this too a result of the Matron’s blood? Solanaceae admitted, she didn’t mind this side effect as much as the others. Closing her eyes, Solanaceae continued her exploration of her transformed body,

The feather light touch made her knees tremble beneath her, and the room faded from her mind. Her thoughts were swept away by the intensity of sensation, and her essence raced over a astral landscape until it settled into cool darkness. Stillness. Soft breathing. She opened herself, and a mind touched hers, ancient and young all at once, questioning and familiar. The connection felt right, comfortable. Solanaceae thought for a moment of her sisters whom had once been her whole world, and who she’d never see again.

Remembering her duty, Solanaceae reached out to take the spirit of the infant in her arms, waves of love and comfort flowing over them. “Priestess. Your mother and father have sent me to look after you. They are coming. You will be going home soon, and those who took you will know the wrath of your family in full. What you see, what you hear, what you feel, I will know these things too. Your pain will become my pain. I will not leave you.”

Alone, the Seer sat on the stone floor of the Herald's laboratory, humming a comforting tune and rocking, cradling something unseen in her arms. Her eyes stared out over the room, unseeing. It had begun.

[Dealthagar]

---

Dealthagar returned from Skara in a flash of light. The constnt feeding was beginning to be an annoyance. He was going to need to find a way to stem the hemoraging from his eyes and reduce his hunger, or soon most of the outlying towns would become ghost towns.

Slipping into the ruins to check Solanaceae's progress, he could make out the dark fae's outline in the ruined laboratory. She mimicced holding a babe to her breast and rocked gently, cooing a lullaby. The link had worked, and as he suspected the innate magic of the Drow and Lloth's blessing on the Matron's blood allowed her to access her "glamour" magics, albiet, powering them in a far different manner.

Pulling her robe from the footlocker on the broken floor, he slipped it over her, mentally noting the gooseflesh he raised as his fingertips brushed her arm. Most interesting side effect, indeed. Mentally summoning an orthon, he scrawled a note to the matron on a scrap of paper and sent the mechanical bird to her,

[Dealthagar]

---

(edited out for clarity of timeline)

[Kal'iksix]

---

"She is prepared, and can feel the childe. Now what?" Kal’iksix read these words over and over trying to figure out what the Herald was trying to tell her. Drayden was out with the latest group searching for Gorhun’s possible hiding places. The meeting with Izrem was short and sweet, almost like an interrogation. Kal’iksix offered up all the informative pieces she had. The fact that Alaundril was among them, that he no longer wore the mark of the Wolf King, that Gorhun was a devout follower of The Masked One, and that the note from him after the incident stated that the child’s temper mimicked Kal’iksix’s own.

“Good, I hope she’s being a very naughty little girl and not allowing them one piece of quiet,” Kal’iksix chuckled under her breath adjusting her piwafwi.

Kal’iksix stepped out of the new palace and observed the workers for a moment. The latest acquisition to the quarter was to prove to be more secure than the previous one to prevent such occurrence from happening again. Seeing a flaw in one of the walls leading to her private chamber, Kal’iksix threw her concealed dagger at the back of the supervisor. Standing over him as his life force rippled out of him, she glared hard at him and spoke coldly.
“That door is what we had before and it was easily accessed. You used it again, so you are now an accomplice to those who have the princess.”

Calling over another supervisor, Kal’iksix ordered him to bind the one at her feet to the post out front. She wanted to make him an example for all who crossed or was thinking of crossing her of the fate that awaited them if she caught them. Kal’iksix followed them outside and watched as the dying male was chained up to the post and left to rot and feed the local birds of Umbra. Folding her arms, she watched as another pair of males, polished the newly made pedestals that Kal’iksix commissioned to display trophies.

“Alaundril and Gohun’s heads would look so lovely on them,” Kal’iksix chuckled with a tilt of her head.

Kal’iksix summoned her black beauty of a horse and headed toward the Herald’s laboratory to see if there had been any developments and to see if the “blood tie” had occurred. Kal’iksix looked forward to see the neat and sterile environment of the technomancer.

Kal’iksix slowed Obsidian to a walk as she approached what looked like the Herald’s house only thing was it was in ruins. Kal’iksix surrounded herself in spells and proceeded with caution. Not knowing if this was the work of the light bringers or of the Herald himself, Kal’iksix was not about to take any unnecessary risks. She dismounted the horse and gave him orders to be observant and the first sign of trouble to seek out the Patron or the Lich Lord. Approaching slowly, eyes searching frantically for sign of life or responsible party, Kal’iksix made her way to the steps. Suddenly the figure of the Herald came down the stairs and startled the matron. Breathing a sigh of relief, he ushered her inside the trembling building to the room where his “vat” was.

Adjusting her eyesight some with all the dust that was kicked up, Kal’iksix saw two more figures in the room, one huddled in the corner, humming and rocking, and the other one, standing some distance away looking at the one on the floor. Making her way closer, she recognized Ceinwyn as the one standing and Solanaceae sitting on the floor. The fae held her arms as such as she was rocking a child in her arms. The dust, still messing with Kal’iksix’s vision, Kal’iksix noticed subtle changes in the appearance of the fae and that Solanaceae’s arms were empty. After the formal greetings, Kal’iksix’s attention drew to the song that the fae was humming; it was the same song Kal’iksix sang to Shri’hrae. The blood bond had taken effect.

[Dealthagar]

---

Dealthagar rubbed his chin as the moongate closed. Solanaceae had spent the evening on the cot in the remnants of his laboratory, and it appeared she had recovered much during her sleep. She was still a bit groggy, and so he had Anak'Sanamun take her home. Familiar surroundngs, plus the added presence of her pets and plants would aid her recovery.

It wasn't safe for her to be here. It wasn't safe for anyone to be here, his manor barely stood on it's own.

Mari, the crafter woman Solanaceae had introduced to him, had given him estimates for repairing the building that were bleak. She was convinced it would be less expensive to tear it all down and build anew.

Tear it all down. Start all over.

Laughing wildly, he walked to the center of the room and spread his arms wide.

"In Vas Por!"
_________________

The Three Truths of Singularity
Do something to the best of your abilty or don't do it at all
Feel to the fullest of your ability, cutting yourself off from your emotions leads to spiritual death
Control your being, your existance, your destiny.
www.adriandrake.com

[Shri'hrae]

---

That tune, she knew that tune. It was soft and it was sweet. Those things that go with the tune..she couldn't say them yet.. Had no clue what they were really but they were nice. That sounded like that lady she had dealt with for months. The lady with the white hair. She only half recognized the figure whose arms she was in though. She was warm and she really liked that motion, that rocking motion. Uh Oh.... Gas bubbles.. Gas Bubbles.. big ones.. not good. Shri'hrae made a face as they tickled her inner belly and scrunched up her nose. Feeling better she snuggled down into the blankets. Warmth... yes warmth was good.
_________________
*Kitrye Ilhar's Yathrin, Kitrye Ilharn's Mirshann, Jal degahr*

[Gorhun Morchiant]

---

As he looks over a large map of Sosaria, the drow is interrupted by a knock at his door. As he turns to the door a young female human enters holding the drow baby, Shri'hrae.

“So you say the child has been smiling and cooing?” Gorhun says as he looks down at the small child.

“Ye…ye…ye..,” the slave stammers.

“OUT WITH IT!” the drow lord yells at her, his mask changing from grey to blood red.

“Ye..yes…” the slave finishes as she braces herself.

“How odd…she has done nothing but cry since she has been here…tell Olath I am on my way down there to put up wards around the baby’s crib…I don’t seek to stop any sort of communication she may be receiving…she can’t tell them anything…she is a infant…” Gorhun says, equally to himself as he does the slave.

“Why..why…why…put up wards…” the slave stammers.

“NEVER QUESTION ME YOU TANTH!…but if you must know…I don’t seek to stop the communication she is having with whoever…or even if she is communing with someone...” the drow says his mask’s red hue deepening.

“Her not crying makes our work easier…I would just like to make it…unpleasant for whoever it is doing the communing with her…,” the drow says as his mask turns deep black.

“Unpleasant…may be an understatement…painful might be a better word…” the drow says as he escorts the slave and the child back to the child’s room.

After several hours passed…the dark drow returns to his study and again begins looking over the map…knowing that if someone is communing with the little priestess…that they are doing so despite the pain…

[Solanaceae]

---

Sunset blazed over the ancient Willow, its wide spread branches casting deep shadows over the garden. Solanaceae walked the path, the cool stone comforting against the soles of her feet. Her charge was sleeping, together they breathed with one breath, their hearts beating in perfect unison. Her mind faded in and out of awareness, the shifting sleep patterns of the infant affecting her through their connection. With a limited sense of her surroundings, Solanaceae walked the path from memory, letting her feet take her along with no forethought. It was relaxing to be free of the need for constant control, freeing.

Solanaceae could feel the watchful eyes of her solemn guardian upon her, though Anak’sanamuun’s feet made no sound as she followed from a distance. Just the presence of one of Lilith’s Handmaidens brought with it a sense of well-being that was as much to credit for Solanaceae’s relaxed state as the release of tight control. Soon the baby would be home, safe and sound, and Solanaceae’s life would return to as close to normal as her life could ever be. Part of her was saddened at the thought of loosing the bond, of once again being alone. She and her sisters had so often spent their time away from each other in such close mind links, when she was cut off from her family and banished, Solanaceae’s loneliness became her prison.

Just as the last of sunset’s splendor dipped out of sight, a tingle swept over her body. Before Solanaceae could wonder what caused the sensation, sharp pain tore through her body. She felt the bond waver. Solanaceae desperately threw her essence into the link, giving all she had to maintain the connection. Feeling the pain threaten to drag her into darkness, she did the only thing she could think of. Reaching her fingers into the paths of lay magics that had so long been her companion, Solanaceae weaved the threads of the priestess and her own, until her spirit and the infant’s locked together. When the last connection was set in place, Solanaceae crumpled to the stones, moaning in agony she was helpless to end.

[Dealthagar]

---

The handmaiden stood in the doorway as Dealthagar looked over his apprentice. Assaulting one of the Clergy of Oblivion would be added to the Drow's crimes. His emotions raged. This Gorhun was becoming a serious problem. Part of him was tempted to simply sever the link.

It would save her the pain, but ultimately serve no purpose.

Taking a technomantically altered arcane gem from his pocket, Dealthagar stroked the runes to begin "recording" her sensations, and touched the gem to her forehead before setting it on her bedstand. Her pain would make an effective truth-delving method against future criminals.

Waste not, want not.
_________________

The Three Truths of Singularity
Do something to the best of your abilty or don't do it at all
Feel to the fullest of your ability, cutting yourself off from your emotions leads to spiritual death
Control your being, your existance, your destiny.
www.adriandrake.com

[Solanaceae]

---

Moonlight reflected on the rain kissed spider webs, giving them sheen like fine woven silver threads. Solanaceae stared through the webbing toward the west, feeling the part of her that was far away, leaving a half empty feeling in its place. She felt stretched, pulled until her spirit was thin rice paper. The longer it took to bring the little priestess home, the more desperate the situation became. Soon the chaos keeper would come to take it all away.
The fragrance of fresh bread and spiced mead filled the garden. Clay and stone tinkled as the tray was set on the table behind her, and a familiar voice reached Solanaceae. “Your guardian says you haven’t eaten in over a day. Come have some sweet bread and cheese at least. You’ll do no one any good if you don’t take care of yourself.”

Solanaceae glanced back to face Mari Red Bear’s disapproving expression. “I’m not hungry. Perhaps Anak’Sanamuun would like some.” It took effort to speak in common, but since Mari didn’t know Drow to her knowledge, it was the only way to communicate. It was strange. A week ago she didn’t know a word of the people from Underdark, and now it was as comfortable to her as the tongue of the fae people.
“I left a tray for her if she wants it. My concern is you.” Mari moved closer, disapproval fading into a look of deep concern. “If there wasn’t a reason to worry, Hemlock wouldn’t have come to find me.”

Solanaceae glanced down at the black cat, who was washing herself, apparently unconcerned that she was being spoken of. The fae turned away from her pet, her gaze taking in the slight wilted plants in her garden. “I could use some help catching up on the watering and trimming. I’m afraid I’ve fallen behind on my duties here. I haven’t even been hunting to feed my creatures.”

“I found your journal in your lab while you were resting and read the notes on the care of the insects and spiders. I assumed your snakes could fend for themselves well enough.” Mari smiled sheepishly. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Solanaceae stared at the crafter who had come to the aid of someone she barely knew, and made no judgments on what went on here. Just when she thought she understood humans, one would come along and surprise her. “I am grateful.”

“Glad to help. So, where should we begin up here?”

Over the next two hours the women worked on the rooftop garden, Mari often insisting Solanaceae stop and rest between batches of plants. The work was relaxing, and Solanaceae talked as she tended the garden, telling the priestess about each of the plants, and their uses, whether medicinal or toxic. She knew the baby couldn’t understand what she was saying, but her tone seemed to sooth the child, and even some of the words the little one found amusing. Solanaceae wondered what would happen once the priestess was home again. Would she and the Matron forget their fae friend, once they didn’t need her anymore? The blood made her feel so close to them, almost like having a family again. The idea of loosing that feeling tore at her heart. The blood. So much importance in the blood.

“Solanaceae!” Mari cried out. Solanaceae looked up to see Mari run toward her, a long piece of cloth dangling from her clenched fist. Mari knelt next to the rock the fae sat on, and grabbed Solanaceae’s hand. “It’s so deep. Stay still. I’ll see what I can do.”

Looking down Solanaceae noticed her palm was covered in green blood, so dark that in the shadows it looked almost black. The blood dripped from her fingertips into the pool of it on the ground below. Mari dabbed frantically at the wound, and Solanaceae glanced at the silver blade in her other hand she’d been using to harvest herbs. It was covered in blood as well.

Nothing. Not a twinge of pain, even as Mari cleaned the wound with an antiseptic tincture and wiped it with the rough cloth. Solanaceae considered this. Since Ceinwyn came she hadn’t felt the pain from the wards around the baby, not even changes in temperature of the feel of the wind on her skin. Nothing. At first the relief from the incapacitating pain had been a relief, but now…

Now, the numbness was frightening… and apparently dangerous. She had to be careful. She could cut off a finger or slash an artery, and never notice until her blood became nothing more than food for the land, the candle flame of her life blown out. Her life and the life of the priestess were too tightly linked for her to become careless. Mari was right. If she was going to be any good to her family, she had to look after herself as well.

A smile crossed Mari’s face as Solanaceae reached out with her uninjured hand and tore off a piece of the bread.