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Fic Update: The Right Bait: Vierna's Tale
Apr. 4th, 2026 07:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
senmutAO3 Link | The Right Bait: Vierna's Tale (3352 words) by Merfilly
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Vierna Do'Urden, Jarlaxle Baenre, Drizzt Do'Urden, Original Drow Character(s)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Summary:
Vierna Do'Urden, saved from the death of her House by her questioning that had brought her to Vhaeraun's closer attention, was still in the process of regaining her abilities — in divine spell-craft.
Her physical capabilities remained sharp, now that Lolth's Sickness had been purged from her for abandoning the Church of her childhood. Jarlaxle saw that now, as she reacted to something she had placed as wrong about him, despite him having adopted the local clothes and the lack of his distinctive hat.
The eye patch was still in place, which clicked for her as she settled back from facing him with her dagger in hand, just off the main thoroughfare with markets and vendor carts.
"Far from your usual grounds?" Vierna questioned, the dagger disappearing once more. Jarlaxle had no doubt that she was more than ready to defend herself even yet, a true tribute to the legacy of the man he was here to converse with her over.
"They're a bit messy right now, what with the chaos of two upper Houses dying in such recent years," he said gamely enough. "I am quite pleased to see you were as smart as the Weapon Master intimated over the years, and got out ahead of time."
She scowled… but was it over the mention of his lost lover, or the other news?
"Oh do settle, priestess," he said, managing to inflect the tone just as Zak always had when referring to her, and then Jarlaxle knew, because the anger was riding high. "After all, he spoke of you quite fondly, up until the night your former Matron took the Tenth position in the city."
It was a calculated risk… and the anger shifted briefly to regret before masking into polite interest only.
"Why are you here? If you'd been sent to fetch me back, this is not the approach your people would have taken," she reasoned.
"I had a chat with Dinin, the night that those who went with Briza and Tsinda Duskrym into the wilds returned — empty handed, and minus both clerics. It seems your wean-son is truly as elusive as the Ghost that sired him.
"And you."
Vierna took a very slow breath, and Jarlaxle wondered just what she thought of the boy, let alone her complicated feelings about Zaknafein.
"And?" she drawled, hinting at impatience with him.
"He purchased his way into my merry little band of mercenaries by retrieving a certain body from your ancestral crypt. Unfortunately for me, I do not currently possess a cleric of high enough standing that I could trust with the small matter of breathing life into that corpse."
Her eyes searched him fiercely over that.
"I have not — yet — attained that proficiency with my new place," she admitted.
"But you will." Jarlaxle smiled at her. "Care to commit to the deed now, or should I fish for another?"
"I do not know that he would even listen to me," Vierna admitted. "As I did not listen to him for far too long, despite his attempts to show me better."
Jarlaxle nodded. "He will listen, if you speak the right words. Do we have a deal?"
Vierna set her jaw and spine in a way that was all the best of Zaknafein and the unlamented Malice in one. "Yes."
"You can send to me, when you feel you have the mastery of the ritual again." He gave her a short bow, mocking in some ways, before turning off to go his own way. He rather doubted it would take her long to rise to the occasion. A decade, at most, if he had to wager on it.
While Vierna had initially been guided to Rilauven, her need for experience had been a factor in sending her to one of Vhaeraun's enclaves above the faerzress line, in a city that held two very different factions of His followers. His belief that her cunning, honed by keeping herself alive in that spider hole for so long despite having a zealot for a sister and a very dangerous Matron would serve Him well was strong.
She proved Him correct, when she managed to have the city powers bring down the head of the rival faction, keeping drow hands clean.
None of them expected the choice to move her there to have personal complications, even with her now able to freely communicate with the mercenaries of Menzoberranzan, to keep Jarlaxle aware of her progress in skill and acquiring the offerings necessary.
Drizzt, a full half decade after settling into the rhythm of life among goodly drow, had gotten to where he was willing to leave his son with Rylla and accompany Shana on her trade runs, finally. The pair of women had adopted them into their household, once Shana realized that Drizzt eagerly wanted to properly parent… and had no idea how. The trader had minded young ones frequently over the decades, always willing to foster without any urge to have one of her own.
Rylla appreciated that approach to family, and accepted it as part of her wife's ways.
This was the first run they had made to Skullport since he began going with them, and Drizzt had found the trip here exhilarating in some ways, using his skills to end threats in the passages of Undermountain.
His trip above, wearing a ring of glamour had not, in any way, prepared him for Skullport. This city was in perpetual shadow, rising up within its cavern, everything from well-buttressed (magical) dwellings to stick-built shanties looking forever on the verge of crumbling apart. There was a distinctly present sense of furtiveness and evil-doing that crackled along Drizzt's senses, but he betrayed none of his distaste for it.
The party of four drow swaggering their way, clothing and weapons gaudy with poor taste and too many coins, caught his attention immediately. He stayed loose and easy in his skin, not even shifting his body language to make the swords more visible.
Behind him, the rest of their people were staying just as relaxed, confident in the youngest fighter to ever hold Rylla to a draw, repeatedly.
"Gotta pay the toll if you want to do the trade," the foremost one said, leering at Drizzt in a way that struck fire along Drizzt's memories of graduation.
"No." Drizzt said the one word casually. When it led to the quartet blustering, he steadily walked toward the first speaker, eyes boring into that one with a promise of danger.
"You think you can bring your goodly little prats in here and not pay for the privilege?" the speaker snapped as his nerves led to a bit of sweat on his brow.
"I do not think it. I know it." Drizzt stopped at what would be easy lunging distance for himself… or them, if they knew how to use the gaudy basket hilt cutlasses.
It wasn't the talker that tried first, playing directly into Drizzt's hands. The clumsy lunge, with a dirk, had Drizzt spin away, catch the back of tunic and breeches in the man's passing, and then redirect his momentum into the other three.
The bullies didn't take the hint that this was no ordinary drow they were trying to intimidate.
Drizzt handed each one a cut across their dominant hand, a barely there poke in the wrist of their off hands, and in two cases, a punch with a hilt to the face.
The four took off running, yelling invectives back at them, but retreating nonetheless.
"Cousin," Shana said with amusement, "you had too much fun doing that."
"We'll need to keep a solid watch, for retaliation, but yes," he answered her unrepentantly.
"Silk Cutter," one of the guards said, facing Vierna with more respect than she'd seen on first arriving here. Something about applying her craft to removing a dangerous target had definitely changed attitudes. "You asked to be told when the Dancers returned to the marketplace."
Vierna nodded to that. "Thank you, Chaurah."
Her use of the woman's name gave her another psychological edge, and the guard actually meant the inclined head her way before going off to her post. That let Vierna go and change into robes that would afford her some protections from the threats outside the Temple, to go learn if the ridiculously good followers of Eilistraee were trading a specific component at less costly a price than most who traded in Waterdeep wanted.
The High Cleric had suggested that they were more fair in dealings with the drow of the Temple… while avoiding Nisstyre's Dragon Hoard company most of the time.
She had her mask on beneath the hood of her cloak, obscuring more of who she was on the off-chance someone of the Dragon Hoard came seeking revenge. They would not, in fact, find that too simple a task to accomplish, she swore in her soul. She had found a mission, in the chance to restore her father to life, and a purpose, in helping the Temple here rise to be the dominant faction for the god she had accepted.
It did not take her long to reach the marketplace, and make out where the Dancers had set their wares. She still found it strange that there were more drow who were soft and kind like her wean-son/little brother had been.
That thought was high in her mind as she came to the stall being run by … Shana. That was the name she had been given for the drow woman that ran trade for the Dancers. It was as she looked over the assembled band, six in total, that her entire world narrowed down to a singular focus, because resting against the wagon behind this stall, keeping it from being open to both alleys, was a young drow fighter with his hair unbound.
Two swords hung from the belt, on either side of the stool he was perched on, and Vierna knew that face like she knew her own.
Only her long experience at never betraying her emotion (despite Drizzt being one who could, sometimes, push her past that) kept her from doing more than flicking her eyes back to the wares on display.
"No storax resin?" she finally asked, forcing her voice to be slightly higher than usual, and mimicking the dialect of Rilauven instead of Menzoberranzan.
"Not this trip, Priestess, but if I know there's a guaranteed sale, we could have it on the next run," Shana said, polite and honest in her words.
"I am running low, and prefer it for the incense I make." Vierna made a considering noise. "Bring a full crock, and I would be willing to trade you a painter's cup of pure ormu powder. I hear your community makes numerous pieces of art."
Shana did some conversions, and then settled to haggle, treating the Masked God's cleric as she would any other customer. Vierna wondered at that on one level. No adherent of Lloth would ever do business with a 'heretic' after all. She had to work at maintaining the vocal pretense, and a careful look toward her brother indicated that he was… apparently… remaining at rest while the other four kept watch.
When she had finished her deal, with the resin slated to come to her the next trading trip down in three months, Vierna made herself walk away, pondering just how to approach the fact her brother was in the same city as she was.
Drizzt waited several long minutes before moving to just behind Shana.
"Did you know her?"
"No. Last trip here we heard rumor that the temple had gotten a priestess, but we hadn't verified." Shana kept her voice at the same level his was.
"I'll be away; please stay close to the wagon and no one wander off," Drizzt said, in that tone of protective concern he was far too young to have mastered. The other fighters nodded at him, and Shana didn't say anything else, before he vanished into the city. Even being unfamiliar with the layout, he could calculate where the best pathways were, having been told the rough placement of Vhaeraun's temple in regards to the marketplace.
He stepped out on the walkway ahead of the priestess several blocks from the temple itself.
She stopped, hood up, robes masking her body, and that mask hiding her face.
"Sister."
"How?!" she demanded, having been certain she had cloaked her voice well enough.
"Height, way you move, the ease of using both hands as you touched the merchandise, and the pronunciation of certain words."
"I was trying for Rilauven's dialect," she grumbled, but she did take a step toward him.
He did not flinch or move.
"Drizzt."
"Vierna."
He tipped his chin up after he said her name, and she reached up to take the mask off, slipping it into a secure pocket. They stood that way a long moment before he sighed.
"At least you're with the reasonable half of His people here, from all the tales I've heard. But I am very curious, and the streets are no place to talk. Given I humiliated the others, I do not want to be far from the wagon. If I come in two weeks, will you be willing to meet with me under truce at the place they call the Dimmed Lantern?"
"I would almost return with you to that stall to talk now, but I too have humiliated the Dragon Hoard recently," Vierna admitted. "Two weeks, my wean-son, my brother… son of our father."
His chest felt tight to hear her admit the truth of their ties, and he inclined his head, stepping aside so she could pass. She paused in his space, hands finding his to squeeze tightly.
"Keep yourself alive, little brother!" she said fiercely.
"It is what I excel in," he promised her, squeezing back, before they parted, so many questions hanging between them that would have to wait for the next time.
Vierna entered the Dimmed Lantern without any guards, her mask put away, even her hood down from her robes. She made eye contact with her little brother by the staircase, having just been standing there, waiting.
At least her informants had been prompt, if he was being that obtrusive still.
She joined him, and in silence, they went up the stairs, both having had too many days and nights to think about what should be shared now that each knew the other was still alive.
In the room, with the door shut and locked, Vierna didn't hesitate to just reach for and pull Drizzt into her arms, despite his initial resistance. He did relax, though, and that settled her nerves further.
"The leader of Bregan D'aerthe said you eluded the Matron's attempt to find you, but I was already gone from the House by then," she said at last, pulling back, holding onto his shoulders to study him. "You look well, and those clothes are surface-made, but well-worn. Is that how you escaped? Going above so young?"
He half-smiled, shaking his head, then drew her with him to the couch.
"I was still in the wilds, when Briza led a party to find me," he said. "They baited me… and I killed her, the cleric with her, some of the soldiers. After that, I had reason to turn to Blingdenstone, and eventually, with their aid, I did go above."
Baited. What kind of baiting would have made Drizzt turn so violent? She knew there was more, but did not press.
"I grew sick of the attrition," Vierna said, lacing her fingers with his, "as the two Houses warred for so long. I had begun to question, that night you left, because it hurt to not have the Weapon Master there, or to know how you fared when I had seen you were injured in that confrontation."
His eyes sparked for the memory, but he stayed silent, letting her continue.
"My questions found answers from Vhaeraun… and I crafted my disappearance not long after, so He could help me reach His people before the illness of that Spider Bitch abandoning me could make it impossible to travel. A small enclave in Mantol-Derith, who passed me along their routes to Rilauven."
"The city under the Neverwinter Wood," Drizzt said. "I know a cleric from there, among Eilistraee's people."
"Not yours?" Vierna questioned, curious, and concerned, because being godless was sometimes a difficult thing.
He shook his head. "I will aid Her people, but I only live among them for necessity, at this point. I prefer the freedom of the surface."
He was still so very strange.
She would chase down 'necessity' in a moment, as he obviously had freedom of movement, so he wasn't enslaved.
"The leader of Bregan D'aerthe found me there," she continued. "He'd suborned Dinin, giving him freedom to live in the mercenaries for one small task." Vierna met Drizzt's eyes then. "He has Father's body. I accepted the posting here to learn faster, become stronger, so that I may perform the resurrection. I am not yet… there. But I will get there."
Drizzt's eyes had blown wide open, then narrowed… and finally accepted this as fact. "If he has the body, is he planning on producing the diamonds needed?"
"I am not leaving it to his vagaries," she told him firmly.
"Then I will bring you what treasure they insist I keep, from my forays into Undermountain and the ruins above that I keep finding when I scout for them."
Unasked. He just… unasked! Offered her a faster way to accrue the material cost!
"You could come here to stay, my word that you would be left alone by the others, and aid me more directly?" Vierna probed, wanting him closer, wanting to forge an actual bond with this man she had cared for and nurtured.
"No." He shook his head, and his free hand came up to her cheek to gentle the refusal. "I cannot leave the ones I aid now, not for some time, not at length."
"Why?" she demanded, her heart pricked with anger and sadness alike at his answer.
He shifted, then let go entirely of her to rise and pace the room a bit.
"The other cleric was the woman from graduation," he said at last, his back to her. "The bait was the son she bore."
Vierna rose, and went to press along his back, as understanding clicked into place. He'd been so badly wounded in his attitude after that night, and she'd never understood why.
"You're certain the boy is yours, I take it?"
"Two handed, questions everything, could hear the call of Eilistraee his whole life, something I'd been blocked from by Her… he is very much my son, and starting to favor our father in his jawline.
"He's only fourteen, maybe fifteen years old now? I don't like to leave him for more than a handful of days at a time, even with the help I have to raise him."
She slipped her arms around him and held him, pleased when he relaxed back into her, his head on her shoulder.
"Then… I will accept what aid you can give, and the visits you manage. In time, I would like to meet him, but he is still young. He should not be risking the passage between there and here, just to meet me."
"His name is Kastan, and I do want you to know him, for him to know we have more family," Drizzt agreed. "When he's older."
Vierna had understood, when Drizzt only stayed the two days. Before he returned, she intended to have sending stones readied, to let one of the temple wizards attune for them. She had even more reason to grow stronger in this place, though, to have her brother, and nephew, so close.
They might well get Zaknafein back before the boy was of an age to travel, but in time, they would be a family of three generations, despite their morality and end goals.
Somehow, she thought this suited her god even more than just her concern for her father had.
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Vierna Do'Urden, Jarlaxle Baenre, Drizzt Do'Urden, Original Drow Character(s)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Summary:
A priestess vanished before Do'Urden fell...
The Right Bait: Vierna's Tale
Vierna Do'Urden, saved from the death of her House by her questioning that had brought her to Vhaeraun's closer attention, was still in the process of regaining her abilities — in divine spell-craft.
Her physical capabilities remained sharp, now that Lolth's Sickness had been purged from her for abandoning the Church of her childhood. Jarlaxle saw that now, as she reacted to something she had placed as wrong about him, despite him having adopted the local clothes and the lack of his distinctive hat.
The eye patch was still in place, which clicked for her as she settled back from facing him with her dagger in hand, just off the main thoroughfare with markets and vendor carts.
"Far from your usual grounds?" Vierna questioned, the dagger disappearing once more. Jarlaxle had no doubt that she was more than ready to defend herself even yet, a true tribute to the legacy of the man he was here to converse with her over.
"They're a bit messy right now, what with the chaos of two upper Houses dying in such recent years," he said gamely enough. "I am quite pleased to see you were as smart as the Weapon Master intimated over the years, and got out ahead of time."
She scowled… but was it over the mention of his lost lover, or the other news?
"Oh do settle, priestess," he said, managing to inflect the tone just as Zak always had when referring to her, and then Jarlaxle knew, because the anger was riding high. "After all, he spoke of you quite fondly, up until the night your former Matron took the Tenth position in the city."
It was a calculated risk… and the anger shifted briefly to regret before masking into polite interest only.
"Why are you here? If you'd been sent to fetch me back, this is not the approach your people would have taken," she reasoned.
"I had a chat with Dinin, the night that those who went with Briza and Tsinda Duskrym into the wilds returned — empty handed, and minus both clerics. It seems your wean-son is truly as elusive as the Ghost that sired him.
"And you."
Vierna took a very slow breath, and Jarlaxle wondered just what she thought of the boy, let alone her complicated feelings about Zaknafein.
"And?" she drawled, hinting at impatience with him.
"He purchased his way into my merry little band of mercenaries by retrieving a certain body from your ancestral crypt. Unfortunately for me, I do not currently possess a cleric of high enough standing that I could trust with the small matter of breathing life into that corpse."
Her eyes searched him fiercely over that.
"I have not — yet — attained that proficiency with my new place," she admitted.
"But you will." Jarlaxle smiled at her. "Care to commit to the deed now, or should I fish for another?"
"I do not know that he would even listen to me," Vierna admitted. "As I did not listen to him for far too long, despite his attempts to show me better."
Jarlaxle nodded. "He will listen, if you speak the right words. Do we have a deal?"
Vierna set her jaw and spine in a way that was all the best of Zaknafein and the unlamented Malice in one. "Yes."
"You can send to me, when you feel you have the mastery of the ritual again." He gave her a short bow, mocking in some ways, before turning off to go his own way. He rather doubted it would take her long to rise to the occasion. A decade, at most, if he had to wager on it.
While Vierna had initially been guided to Rilauven, her need for experience had been a factor in sending her to one of Vhaeraun's enclaves above the faerzress line, in a city that held two very different factions of His followers. His belief that her cunning, honed by keeping herself alive in that spider hole for so long despite having a zealot for a sister and a very dangerous Matron would serve Him well was strong.
She proved Him correct, when she managed to have the city powers bring down the head of the rival faction, keeping drow hands clean.
None of them expected the choice to move her there to have personal complications, even with her now able to freely communicate with the mercenaries of Menzoberranzan, to keep Jarlaxle aware of her progress in skill and acquiring the offerings necessary.
Drizzt, a full half decade after settling into the rhythm of life among goodly drow, had gotten to where he was willing to leave his son with Rylla and accompany Shana on her trade runs, finally. The pair of women had adopted them into their household, once Shana realized that Drizzt eagerly wanted to properly parent… and had no idea how. The trader had minded young ones frequently over the decades, always willing to foster without any urge to have one of her own.
Rylla appreciated that approach to family, and accepted it as part of her wife's ways.
This was the first run they had made to Skullport since he began going with them, and Drizzt had found the trip here exhilarating in some ways, using his skills to end threats in the passages of Undermountain.
His trip above, wearing a ring of glamour had not, in any way, prepared him for Skullport. This city was in perpetual shadow, rising up within its cavern, everything from well-buttressed (magical) dwellings to stick-built shanties looking forever on the verge of crumbling apart. There was a distinctly present sense of furtiveness and evil-doing that crackled along Drizzt's senses, but he betrayed none of his distaste for it.
The party of four drow swaggering their way, clothing and weapons gaudy with poor taste and too many coins, caught his attention immediately. He stayed loose and easy in his skin, not even shifting his body language to make the swords more visible.
Behind him, the rest of their people were staying just as relaxed, confident in the youngest fighter to ever hold Rylla to a draw, repeatedly.
"Gotta pay the toll if you want to do the trade," the foremost one said, leering at Drizzt in a way that struck fire along Drizzt's memories of graduation.
"No." Drizzt said the one word casually. When it led to the quartet blustering, he steadily walked toward the first speaker, eyes boring into that one with a promise of danger.
"You think you can bring your goodly little prats in here and not pay for the privilege?" the speaker snapped as his nerves led to a bit of sweat on his brow.
"I do not think it. I know it." Drizzt stopped at what would be easy lunging distance for himself… or them, if they knew how to use the gaudy basket hilt cutlasses.
It wasn't the talker that tried first, playing directly into Drizzt's hands. The clumsy lunge, with a dirk, had Drizzt spin away, catch the back of tunic and breeches in the man's passing, and then redirect his momentum into the other three.
The bullies didn't take the hint that this was no ordinary drow they were trying to intimidate.
Drizzt handed each one a cut across their dominant hand, a barely there poke in the wrist of their off hands, and in two cases, a punch with a hilt to the face.
The four took off running, yelling invectives back at them, but retreating nonetheless.
"Cousin," Shana said with amusement, "you had too much fun doing that."
"We'll need to keep a solid watch, for retaliation, but yes," he answered her unrepentantly.
"Silk Cutter," one of the guards said, facing Vierna with more respect than she'd seen on first arriving here. Something about applying her craft to removing a dangerous target had definitely changed attitudes. "You asked to be told when the Dancers returned to the marketplace."
Vierna nodded to that. "Thank you, Chaurah."
Her use of the woman's name gave her another psychological edge, and the guard actually meant the inclined head her way before going off to her post. That let Vierna go and change into robes that would afford her some protections from the threats outside the Temple, to go learn if the ridiculously good followers of Eilistraee were trading a specific component at less costly a price than most who traded in Waterdeep wanted.
The High Cleric had suggested that they were more fair in dealings with the drow of the Temple… while avoiding Nisstyre's Dragon Hoard company most of the time.
She had her mask on beneath the hood of her cloak, obscuring more of who she was on the off-chance someone of the Dragon Hoard came seeking revenge. They would not, in fact, find that too simple a task to accomplish, she swore in her soul. She had found a mission, in the chance to restore her father to life, and a purpose, in helping the Temple here rise to be the dominant faction for the god she had accepted.
It did not take her long to reach the marketplace, and make out where the Dancers had set their wares. She still found it strange that there were more drow who were soft and kind like her wean-son/little brother had been.
That thought was high in her mind as she came to the stall being run by … Shana. That was the name she had been given for the drow woman that ran trade for the Dancers. It was as she looked over the assembled band, six in total, that her entire world narrowed down to a singular focus, because resting against the wagon behind this stall, keeping it from being open to both alleys, was a young drow fighter with his hair unbound.
Two swords hung from the belt, on either side of the stool he was perched on, and Vierna knew that face like she knew her own.
Only her long experience at never betraying her emotion (despite Drizzt being one who could, sometimes, push her past that) kept her from doing more than flicking her eyes back to the wares on display.
"No storax resin?" she finally asked, forcing her voice to be slightly higher than usual, and mimicking the dialect of Rilauven instead of Menzoberranzan.
"Not this trip, Priestess, but if I know there's a guaranteed sale, we could have it on the next run," Shana said, polite and honest in her words.
"I am running low, and prefer it for the incense I make." Vierna made a considering noise. "Bring a full crock, and I would be willing to trade you a painter's cup of pure ormu powder. I hear your community makes numerous pieces of art."
Shana did some conversions, and then settled to haggle, treating the Masked God's cleric as she would any other customer. Vierna wondered at that on one level. No adherent of Lloth would ever do business with a 'heretic' after all. She had to work at maintaining the vocal pretense, and a careful look toward her brother indicated that he was… apparently… remaining at rest while the other four kept watch.
When she had finished her deal, with the resin slated to come to her the next trading trip down in three months, Vierna made herself walk away, pondering just how to approach the fact her brother was in the same city as she was.
Drizzt waited several long minutes before moving to just behind Shana.
"Did you know her?"
"No. Last trip here we heard rumor that the temple had gotten a priestess, but we hadn't verified." Shana kept her voice at the same level his was.
"I'll be away; please stay close to the wagon and no one wander off," Drizzt said, in that tone of protective concern he was far too young to have mastered. The other fighters nodded at him, and Shana didn't say anything else, before he vanished into the city. Even being unfamiliar with the layout, he could calculate where the best pathways were, having been told the rough placement of Vhaeraun's temple in regards to the marketplace.
He stepped out on the walkway ahead of the priestess several blocks from the temple itself.
She stopped, hood up, robes masking her body, and that mask hiding her face.
"Sister."
"How?!" she demanded, having been certain she had cloaked her voice well enough.
"Height, way you move, the ease of using both hands as you touched the merchandise, and the pronunciation of certain words."
"I was trying for Rilauven's dialect," she grumbled, but she did take a step toward him.
He did not flinch or move.
"Drizzt."
"Vierna."
He tipped his chin up after he said her name, and she reached up to take the mask off, slipping it into a secure pocket. They stood that way a long moment before he sighed.
"At least you're with the reasonable half of His people here, from all the tales I've heard. But I am very curious, and the streets are no place to talk. Given I humiliated the others, I do not want to be far from the wagon. If I come in two weeks, will you be willing to meet with me under truce at the place they call the Dimmed Lantern?"
"I would almost return with you to that stall to talk now, but I too have humiliated the Dragon Hoard recently," Vierna admitted. "Two weeks, my wean-son, my brother… son of our father."
His chest felt tight to hear her admit the truth of their ties, and he inclined his head, stepping aside so she could pass. She paused in his space, hands finding his to squeeze tightly.
"Keep yourself alive, little brother!" she said fiercely.
"It is what I excel in," he promised her, squeezing back, before they parted, so many questions hanging between them that would have to wait for the next time.
Vierna entered the Dimmed Lantern without any guards, her mask put away, even her hood down from her robes. She made eye contact with her little brother by the staircase, having just been standing there, waiting.
At least her informants had been prompt, if he was being that obtrusive still.
She joined him, and in silence, they went up the stairs, both having had too many days and nights to think about what should be shared now that each knew the other was still alive.
In the room, with the door shut and locked, Vierna didn't hesitate to just reach for and pull Drizzt into her arms, despite his initial resistance. He did relax, though, and that settled her nerves further.
"The leader of Bregan D'aerthe said you eluded the Matron's attempt to find you, but I was already gone from the House by then," she said at last, pulling back, holding onto his shoulders to study him. "You look well, and those clothes are surface-made, but well-worn. Is that how you escaped? Going above so young?"
He half-smiled, shaking his head, then drew her with him to the couch.
"I was still in the wilds, when Briza led a party to find me," he said. "They baited me… and I killed her, the cleric with her, some of the soldiers. After that, I had reason to turn to Blingdenstone, and eventually, with their aid, I did go above."
Baited. What kind of baiting would have made Drizzt turn so violent? She knew there was more, but did not press.
"I grew sick of the attrition," Vierna said, lacing her fingers with his, "as the two Houses warred for so long. I had begun to question, that night you left, because it hurt to not have the Weapon Master there, or to know how you fared when I had seen you were injured in that confrontation."
His eyes sparked for the memory, but he stayed silent, letting her continue.
"My questions found answers from Vhaeraun… and I crafted my disappearance not long after, so He could help me reach His people before the illness of that Spider Bitch abandoning me could make it impossible to travel. A small enclave in Mantol-Derith, who passed me along their routes to Rilauven."
"The city under the Neverwinter Wood," Drizzt said. "I know a cleric from there, among Eilistraee's people."
"Not yours?" Vierna questioned, curious, and concerned, because being godless was sometimes a difficult thing.
He shook his head. "I will aid Her people, but I only live among them for necessity, at this point. I prefer the freedom of the surface."
He was still so very strange.
She would chase down 'necessity' in a moment, as he obviously had freedom of movement, so he wasn't enslaved.
"The leader of Bregan D'aerthe found me there," she continued. "He'd suborned Dinin, giving him freedom to live in the mercenaries for one small task." Vierna met Drizzt's eyes then. "He has Father's body. I accepted the posting here to learn faster, become stronger, so that I may perform the resurrection. I am not yet… there. But I will get there."
Drizzt's eyes had blown wide open, then narrowed… and finally accepted this as fact. "If he has the body, is he planning on producing the diamonds needed?"
"I am not leaving it to his vagaries," she told him firmly.
"Then I will bring you what treasure they insist I keep, from my forays into Undermountain and the ruins above that I keep finding when I scout for them."
Unasked. He just… unasked! Offered her a faster way to accrue the material cost!
"You could come here to stay, my word that you would be left alone by the others, and aid me more directly?" Vierna probed, wanting him closer, wanting to forge an actual bond with this man she had cared for and nurtured.
"No." He shook his head, and his free hand came up to her cheek to gentle the refusal. "I cannot leave the ones I aid now, not for some time, not at length."
"Why?" she demanded, her heart pricked with anger and sadness alike at his answer.
He shifted, then let go entirely of her to rise and pace the room a bit.
"The other cleric was the woman from graduation," he said at last, his back to her. "The bait was the son she bore."
Vierna rose, and went to press along his back, as understanding clicked into place. He'd been so badly wounded in his attitude after that night, and she'd never understood why.
"You're certain the boy is yours, I take it?"
"Two handed, questions everything, could hear the call of Eilistraee his whole life, something I'd been blocked from by Her… he is very much my son, and starting to favor our father in his jawline.
"He's only fourteen, maybe fifteen years old now? I don't like to leave him for more than a handful of days at a time, even with the help I have to raise him."
She slipped her arms around him and held him, pleased when he relaxed back into her, his head on her shoulder.
"Then… I will accept what aid you can give, and the visits you manage. In time, I would like to meet him, but he is still young. He should not be risking the passage between there and here, just to meet me."
"His name is Kastan, and I do want you to know him, for him to know we have more family," Drizzt agreed. "When he's older."
Vierna had understood, when Drizzt only stayed the two days. Before he returned, she intended to have sending stones readied, to let one of the temple wizards attune for them. She had even more reason to grow stronger in this place, though, to have her brother, and nephew, so close.
They might well get Zaknafein back before the boy was of an age to travel, but in time, they would be a family of three generations, despite their morality and end goals.
Somehow, she thought this suited her god even more than just her concern for her father had.
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