The black dog at her heels leaned its head against the side of her leg. She idly patted it.
Behroun had been living in Marhana Manor, up to his old schemes. The man had somehow learned that Green Siren was back in port, and had fled the manor before Japheth and Anusha had arrived. He’d ransacked his own office before leaving, apparently gathering up the most important contracts and who knew what else. Japheth wanted to go after Behroun, but Anusha had asked him to wait. The warlock had complied, though he said Behroun still owed a debt.
She hoped her instinct for mercy had been the correct one.
Yes, it had to be, she thought. Let Behroun go. Surely the man couldn’t do any more harm. Let it be punishment enough for someone on his way to becoming a powerful member of New Sarshell’s Grand Council to be rendered powerless, with no hope of regaining his former stature.
She remembered when she’d accidentally spied Behroun while dreamwalking. He’d muttered something about wishing he could have her slain. The memory made the hair on her neck prickle.
“I’m done thinking about my brother,” said Anusha.
The dog’s tail wagged all the harder. “Don’t worry, Lucky,” she said. “I’m not talking about you, boy. You’re good, yes, you are!”
She gave the dog a couple more pets, then righted the desk chair. She relished the smooth, hardwood feel of it. She’d spent so long in her dreamform, where her every interaction with the world required concentration. It was a pleasure simply to grab something and hold it without fear it would slip between her imaginary fingers.
“Madam?”
The manor’s steward stood in the office doorway.
“Yes?” Anusha said.
“Wouldn’t you rather let staff finish with this, madam?” asked the man. “You’ve made a great start. You must be tired by now.”
“I just got here, actually,” said Anusha.
“Ah, yes,” said the steward. “Well, in point of fact, tea is served in the salon, as you requested.”
“Oh! Thank you for reminding me.”
Anusha and the steward left Behroun’s office. Lucky gave a couple of sniffs to the stuffed osprey lying on the floor, then followed. They made their way through a long hall back to the main manor, through the entrance hall, and finally to the salon.
The manor’s sitting room, built into the base of a corner tower, was decorated in themes of silver and cream. A table and several comfy chairs were arranged in the room’s center. High windows allowed pleasant views out into the garden surrounding the home.
Anusha took her place at the tea service and called the dog over to curl up on the floor behind her.
A total of five settings were arranged around the table. Steam puffed from the spout of a silver kettle next to a silver plate heaped with nuts, fried dumplings, and plums.
“Where is everyone?” Anusha asked.
“Captain Thoster and Mistress Seren are seeing to private business in the city,” the steward said. “Master Raidon never returned from his evening constitutional, I’m afraid. And Master Japheth continues working on his project down in the catacombs.”
“I see,” Anusha said, hiding her annoyance. She’d invited everyone to stay in the manor when Green Siren returned to dock. She knew, intellectually, that her generosity didn’t give her the right to dictate their schedules-but everyone’s blatant absence rankled.
Didn’t anyone but her care that a hoary old city of aboleths had breached the Sea of Fallen Stars?
Like the others, she had been eager to rest in New Sarshell after they had escaped Xxiphu. More eager, probably; no one else had been drawn into the city against their will, as she had. What a relief to think only about day-to-day concerns for a while, and common pleasures. For her, food had come near the top of that list. And real sleep, uninterrupted by out-of-body adventures. Even simply walking down a hallway constructed of wood and stone was pleasing, as opposed to rough corridors coated in slime and patches of mind-stealing ice.
Anusha relished being home and having a semblance of her life again. But the memory of a black splinter hovering over storm-lashed water was an intruder in nearly everything she did. As the days passed, the image became harder and harder to ignore.
She had waited for Raidon or Japheth to broach the topic, or even Captain Thoster or the war wizard, Seren.
No one did.
Anusha had finally decided that, as Lady Marhana and their host, she would. So she called the tea to discuss the threat. Doubtless she had usurped Raidon’s duty, with his aboleth-slaying sword and spellscar. So be it! The time had come to decide what, if anything, could be done about Xxiphu.
Taking charge was part of Anusha’s mercantile blood; the fire of Marhana lived in her as it had in her parents. In business, loose ends were something that couldn’t be ignored. Even if the Eldest continued to slumber, its children were obviously wide awake, and their home hovered over Faerun! She couldn’t think of a larger, more significant “loose end” than the Abolethic Sovereignty.
Yet the chairs in the sitting room remained stubbornly vacant as the moments slipped by.
“Do they think it will just go away?” she murmured.
The steward coughed. “Shall I send someone to see about Master Japheth?” he said. “And perhaps to look for Master Raidon?”
“No, no. I’m sure they have their reasons for missing tea,” Anusha replied. The man had misidentified the source of her concern. She decided not to set him straight. No need for him to suffer the nightmares.
Like the one she’d had again last night.
Anusha shuddered, remembering herself standing in a misted void interrupted by pillars as tall as mountains. The pocked ground was slicked with phosphorescent aboleth trails. She saw herself speaking, but as usual, the dream didn’t come with sound. And why was the image of herself crying? Anusha could almost make out what the image of herself was saying. Something about … a key?
She dispersed the memory with a shake of her head.
Anusha decided to give everyone one more day of rest. Tomorrow, she would gather everyone, no matter what.
She grabbed the kettle and poured a cup of its fragrant auburn liquid. The steward stiffened, but didn’t speak. Anusha had become Lady Marhana, and the steward had shown himself amazingly graceful in accommodating her desires. If she wanted to pour her own tea, then by the gods, she would.
She took a sip. It was hot, but she avoided scalding her tongue.
As she took a second drink, the steward quickly prepared a smaller plate from the silver food tray and set it before her.
The Marhana staff was cooperative and friendly. At least Behroun hadn’t skimped when it came to paying for competent housekeeping. When Anusha had asked the staff to prepare suites for Raidon, Seren, Japheth, and Thoster, they had done so without so much as a raised eyebrow. She ruminated on the situation; how close her bedchamber was to the warlock’s suite …
Recalling his warm lips on her neck brought blood to her face.
“Shall I prepare a plate for Master Japheth and have it delivered?”
Anusha started. “Yes,” she said. “That’s a nice thought.”
After she’d awakened, jubilation had rippled through her body. She’d been flush with renewed life. And there he’d been: the object of her earlier infatuation and a symbol of the wider world denied her before he’d come into it.
But following their assignation in the cramped ship’s cabin, an odd shyness had fallen between them. Of course, he had his project since they’d come back to the mansion, which he’d taken on at her request. Its execution kept him busy day and night.
But it was more than that. He seemed reluctant to intrude, as if he was uncertain or having second thoughts.
No, she didn’t truly think Japheth was having second thoughts; the man had proved he would go to the Hells and back for her, that he would barter the world itself for her safety.