"You haven't known many mercenaries, I gather," responded Eledhe, rising to stretch, catlike, and lean against a tree. It only took a moment before there was a throwing star between her fingers, ever turning in the firelight. Only its razor edges glittered in the light cast by the flames; the rest was black like the night beyond the edge of the firelit circle. "He's not on my side," continued Eledhe. "Never was. Likely never will be. You happen to be his ticket to a large amount of money, and like any mercenary, myself not excluded" - here she shifted position and the star shot from hand to hand, almost lazily - "he's out for the money."

Conversation, aided by a complete lack of interest on both sides, ground to a halt, and both were silent until Liell trudged back into the circle of firelight and dumped a double armful of wood by their fire.

"Took you long enough," said Eledhe shortly.

A noncommittal shrug. Amazing, Liell not in the mood to respond cuttingly, Eledhe thought, somewhat relieved. Not inclined to verbal sparring herself, she rolled into her cloak by the fire and pretended sleep.

Pretended. There wasn't a chance in the entire underworld that she was going to sleep and let Liell watch, not unless she was suddenly seized with a piercing desire to wake up with a dagger in her back.

After what had probably been several hours, he stretched and rose casually, then took a few steps into the dark forest beyond the firelight. Eledhe shook herself more awake out of habit, though she assumed he was merely relieving himself. A thought occurred.

Eyes flicking to Silvryn - she couldn't tell whether the princess slept or not - Eledhe soundlessly got to her feet, fingers casually reaching into he belt pouch for a shuriken. Every step calculated to sound no more than the wind might, she melted into the shadow of the trees.

Circling around, she listened hard for movement, the star flicking restlessly between two fingers. Strange, there was nothing. Eledhe stopped, listening for even the barest noise.

Metal hissed on metal, just barely, and with speed and reflexes born of elven ancestry Eledhe shot toward the ground. Even before she'd heard the muttered curse she was up, attitude that of a prowling hunter. In one hand a throwing star danced. The barest noise and it sliced the air, thudding into what was unmistakably wood. Curse it -

Aha. But there were hurried, and therefore less silent, footsteps. Moving silently as ever, Eledhe followed them, angling so that she would not be silhouetted by whatever firelight filtered through the trees. The barest breath caught her attention, and she altered course.

It must have been a most unpleasant surprise for Liell when the next tree he skirted let slip a slender shadow into his path.

Eledhe could feel the sharp edges between her fingers, but even she was not immune to the urge to gloat. "Twenty years hasn't taught you, then," she whispered. A moment later one of the throwing stars left her fingers.

Eledhe didn't bother with the body, only made for the circle of firelight as soundlessly as she had left. A most self-satisfied smile curved her lips. Twenty years overdue, Liell had got what he'd been asking for. And though he'd never quite verbally requested the throwing star in his throat, she considered it not unprovoked.

"Having fun, halfbreed?" Cold steel pressed against her throat.

Eledhe froze. She had never heard that voice in her life, but somehow a chill clawed its way up her spine. Twisting, she made to evade the hold, as had worked so many times before -

- and found herself trapped, both hands twisted behind her, and a blade pressing harder into her throat. "Get the princess," someone said, behind her, and before Eledhe's eyes the shadows sprang to life.

_________________

Silvryn, who had hardly been sleeping to begin with, was roused from her thoughts by the sound of approaching voices. She stiffened in her bonds, a sense of foreboding filling her mind even before a company of five elves entered the clearing, leading with them a most displeased-looking mercenary. Silvryn realized with somewhat of a start that Eledhe's hands were bound behind her back. In other circumstances, she would have been singularly amused to see the haughty mercenary caught in such an undignified position, but given the present situation, it was rather disconcerting. Eledhe may have been arrogant, ill-mannered, and a generally unpleasant individual to interact with, but she was by no means an unskilled opponent. That the elves had been able to subdue her with such ostensible ease spoke volumes for their skill.

One dark-haired female drew her sword and advanced slowly toward Silvryn. She took one look at the ropes that bound Silvryn and scoffed quietly. "Primitive," she muttered, slicing through the thick rope with a single strike and drawing out a thin, faintly glowing coil of her own. "We have been sent to retrieve you, milady," she whispered in Silvryn's ear as she wound the new rope around the princess's wrists deftly, forming a sort of leash.

"To be honest, I would have expected better," the elven warrior said evenly as she led Silvryn back over to the others. "Even from a halfbreed."

"Who are you, to call me -" began Eledhe, half-snarling, only to be cut off by increased pressure on the blade at her throat.

"If you're quite finished indulging yourself, Antorin," said the female with icy poise, turning an intense stare on the elf behind Eledhe. Her eyes were an dark, unnerving amber, punctuated by sharply slanting eyebrows.

Eledhe twisted the moment she could no longer feel steel on her skin, driving an elbow sharply backward into her captor's chest to loosen his hold. It had the opposite effect she intended. He dodged and responded by bending her arm sharply up until Eledhe's breath caught at the sudden pain.

The she-elf who held Silvryn let her haughty gaze rest on Eledhe. "Don't be tiresome," she said, sauntering forward with more catlike poise than Eledhe could ever have attained. "You may be superior among humans," she said, smirk reminiscent of a curving blade, "but don't pretend toward what you can't attain, mongrel."

Eledhe promptly spat on the ground. When she raised her eyes again, they met cold amber. "I'm not sure that was wise," said the she-elf. "Antorin, feel no obligation to be lenient."

And she turned, Silvryn in tow, followed by the three remaining elves. All were male, and appeared as effortlessly and dangerously athletic as their leader. Painfully, the elf behind Eledhe twisted her to face him, toying curiously with a throwing star from her pouch. "What amusing toys," he commented. "I don't suppose you're very keen on joining your companion back there in the underworld?"

Eledhe was silent, seething. The forest went black as one of the elves stamped on their campfire, and they fell into single file, Eledhe and Silvryn in tow. All five were eerily silent; Eledhe caught a glimpse of almost luminous amber eyes in the smothering blackness. She found herself steadily and silently cursing as they walked, unnerved beyond what she would have admitted.

Eledhe Darkstar was used to being superior. To find herself an inferior halfbreed was a singularly unpleasant experience.

_________________

Silvryn remained silent as they were led through the dark woods, reflecting on the elf's whispered words. 'Retrieve'? It might have almost sounded positive, were it not for the predator-like grin on her face. And if they had been intending to rescue her, then they no doubt would have killed Eledhe on the spot, rather than continue to drag her around. Though, for that matter, why were they keeping her now?


After nearly an hour of walking, they finally arrived at a small, neatly-arranged camp, where two more elves awaited them. There was no speaking as both Silvryn and Eledhe were tied to the nearest tree by more of the same kind of rope that bound their wrists, then gagged for good measure.

The she-elf who was by now clearly in charge of the expedition surveyed her subordinates' work and finally determined that the captives were sufficiently secure. "It will do until morning. Halleth and Lyren will take the first watch," she instructed with an icy glare in the direction of the two who had remained at the camp. "Do try not to fail."

She a final haughty glance over her shoulder toward the captives before sauntering off to her private tent for the night.

Eerie quiet settled over the tiny camp, which was characterized only by the single tent, currently occupied by Her Majesty with the amber eyes. There was no sign of where the other elves might sleep. Eledhe's mind began working furiously - in both senses of the word. This seemed temporary. Where would they be going on to, and why hadn't they already? Who was the real leader, if this was the scouting party that it appeared to be? Who did these bloody flaming elves think they bloody well were?

The last question was less coolly logical. Eledhe glanced round once at the trees - three of whom, she was sure, had a silent elf perched somewhere in the branches, besides the two on watch, who were invisible in the darkness. From their unnerving agility, silent as they were even when visibility was essentially nonexistent, Eledhe suspected that night vision was an Elven trait she had not inherited.

Inherited elven traits. At the thought, she wrenched viciously at whatever it was that bound her hands. Wait, just wait, until she got free, and then they'd think twice about calling her mongrel and halfbreed. Was this a side of elves one did not hear about? Or perhaps...

Eledhe's thoughts trailed off, and once more she glanced round at the trees. She, and the princess behind her, were the sole elves she knew. Nobles such as the Phantom had their token Elvish blood, but it meant very little beyond dark hair and eyes, perhaps the ghost of a point to their ears. Even so...they were spoken of to humans as a dying breed, but a peaceful one. She hesitated, now working at her bonds more methodically. If she angled down, perhaps she could tease a dagger out of its sheath...

A sharp pain shot up her arm and Eledhe recoiled instinctively, jerking back upright. After that she did not touch them - that was not normal rope. Time stretched on. The only sound she could hear was Silvryn's breathing, behind her. Turning as far as she could, she hissed over her shoulder, "Have you any idea who they are?"

_________________

"...And so you can see, ambassador, that we are taking quite good care of your little princess," intoned the tall, black-haired elf with a languid gesture toward the large mirror on the wall. "My good commander even went so far as to rescue her from that dreadful half-blood mercenary. Is that not correct, Commander Aderit?"

"It is so, my lord," the she-elf replied stiffly, inclining her head fractionally. "I have detained the mutt as well, on the small chance that she may prove valuable. I-"

She was promptly cut off by a dismissive wave. "Thank you, Commander. I will discuss such matters with you in a moment. What is your present location?"

Aderit's amber eyes narrowed, but she managed to mask her irritation well enough when she spoke. "I anticipate not more than six hours of walking tomorrow, my lord."

"Excellent. Did you hear that, ambassador? Six hours after sunrise. They will have arrived by noon tomorrow, at which point I fully expect to have your answer. Commander Aderit is my most skilled commander, but even she does have her limits. Accidents can occur, after all. It would be positively dreadful if something were to happen to your dear princess along the way, would it not?"

The elven 'ambassador' struggled against the bonds that held him to the chair. "Lord Raen, you would not dare. I-"

"Have not touched your wine yet," Raen interrupted. "That is terribly rude, you know. That happens to be a very good year, and I opened it especially for you. The very least you could do is acknowledge the gesture with a sip or two, and perhaps a compliment concerning my selection. Or do you trust me so little, Adaniar, that you suspect poison? I am wounded that you should think so little of me. After all, you have yet to inform your people of your decision. I can hardly dispose of you before then."

"I will never agree to this."

"Oh, don't be so boring," Lord Raen replied with an air of long-suffering. "You know perfectly well that I will only kill you and inform them of your dying wish, should that be the case. If you cannot bring yourself to feel at least a small amount of self-preservation, then think of your people. They would be positively distraught to learn that their leader and their heir died within the same day."

The captive elf tensed once more, but said nothing.

"Why, they might even turn to me, in their desperation. Wouldn't that be convenient? And I, of course, being the benevolent leader that I am, would more than gladly take them under my wing...for a price. It is your choice entirely, Adaniar. Will your people swear fealty with you, or without you?" He motioned to the two guards who had been waiting by the door. They quickly moved to pull the high elf up from his chair and escort him back to his cell. "Think on it, will you?"


As soon as he was alone in the chamber, Raen turned back to mirror. "My apologies, Aderit. You were saying?"

"The halfbreed. To be frank, my lord, I do not foresee any potential use for her. She clearly inherited the human disposition, and I do not anticipate any degree of cooperation on her part. Nor is she in any position to be potentially valuable. I see her as only a liability or a hindrance, both of which are best when dead."

"Now, now, my dear, I have told you to not be so dismissive of a potential tool," Raen chided gently. "All tools have their uses, as obscure as they may be. You will bring her along with the princess."

"Of course, my lord. If I may ask, what news of the others?"

"They have entered the realm of the dwarves," he replied in a tone of mild irritation. "I will have no news of them until they have left, I fear, but it is of little consequence. Kytana is only one very small piece on the board, Aderit. Once the elves have united under one banner once more, the affairs of humans will be of no concern."

"Naturally, Lord Raen. If you have nothing more to ask of me...?"

"No, no, you must rest, of course. And do try to refrain from harming the princess. I do not need to stress to you how vital she is at this point."

"And the half-blood hindrance?"

"Do as you see fit, Commander," Raen replied, smiling indulgently. "I ask only that she be alive and conscious upon her arrival."

Aderit returned the smile - a truly chilling sight, to most - and bowed before severing the connection.

--------------------------------------------

Silvryn, who had long ago given up on her bonds, shook her head despite the fact that Eledhe couldn't see the motion. "I had thought you might," she replied coolly. "Considering that it was you who led us here to begin with. And yes, I do consider this to be entirely your fault. Were it not for you-"

"SILENCE!" Aderit shouted from within her tent.

Both captives twisted just far enough to shoot each other a look of absolute loathing before turning and settling in as best they could for the night.

Eledhe, who had been entirely prepared to sleep nary a wink until she could successfully plant a dagger in Liell's back, did not stray near the realm of sleep through the remainder of the night. She didn't know - and didn't care - whether or not Silvryn behind her ever slept; Eledhe was not confident enough that she would see sunrise alive if she dared to sleep. Decades as a mercenary meant that her every sense tingled all night, even as light imperceptibly began to creep through the tangle of trees.

And thus it was that she was not awakened by a boot to the ribs, but being effectively restrained, received it in full and equally unpleasant wakefulness. Eledhe spat a colorful curse that effectively labeled Aderit's every ancestor a thrice-cursed relation to a devil, and lashed out with one unbound foot.

The elf turned on her heel with an overdramatized sigh, and Eledhe found steel at her throat for the second time in less than twelve hours. "Listen to me, mercenary, or whatever you call yourself," she said, every word crisply enunciated. She was stunningly beautiful, which instantly increased Eledhe's hatred threefold. "I have orders that you will be delivered alive and conscious. However, within those parameters, I have no restraints whatsoever on the painful removal of any body parts not essential to your - miserable - survival, or any other unpleasant experiences I choose to dole out. Do we have an understanding?"

Eledhe considered. She really did. Compile the steel uncomfortably close to her throat, the nearly-homicidal elf holding said steel, and her current position as effectively defenseless, she thought some consideration was in order.

Consideration, however, is very different from cooperation. After approximately four and a half seconds, Eledhe landed a superbly aimed kick on Aderit's shin. She thought the answering gash opened across her cheekbone a rather tame punishment.

Still, after six hours of travel with a seething mercenary, an entirely ruthless elven commander, and seven other party members with no objection whatsoever to abuse of said mercenary, it came as a surprise to everyone when it was an ill-used but completely unrepentant Eledhe that stood on the uneven flagstones of a long-abandoned castle ruin. It was planted squarely in the middle of ancient forest, and vines had begun to dismantle the outer walls, but the inner keep was very much intact.

The sun was directly overhead, which was the only reason the courtyard was not submerged in shadow from overhanging vines and encroaching branches. Eledhe eyed the oaken gate into the keep warily, one eye on it and the other on Aderit, who was discussing something with a pair of elves in effortless Elvish, entirely unaccented and entirely a mystery to even half-elven Eledhe.

Concluding business, Aderit turned and gestured to her band of elves. "Bring them both, then," she tossed over one shoulder. "My Lord will be eager to see them directly."

------------

The Phantom was wishing for a bed. Any bed. Even a bedroll on the ground would have suited him at this point. Because after a night - or he assumed it was night, because there wasn't a visible sun to indicate otherwise - on a hard rock floor, he was wishing he'd taken advantage of his bed in the Keep when he'd had the chance.

The contemplation that came with sleeplessness was gloomy. His thoughts strayed toward Silvryn and Eledhe as if magnetically attracted. Silvryn...why hadn't he listened? Every time she'd cast a wary glance at Eledhe, and started to warn him, he'd waved it off as if the mercenary was his loyal guard dog, who trotted around after him everywhere and would never dream of deserting. Well, the guard dog had made her opinion clear.

The Phantom sighed and shifted position, eying the rest and wondering if they were really asleep. If they were, he sincerely envied them.

_________________

Silvryn, by relying on every ounce of diplomatic training that she had ever received, managed to keep her expression coolly impassive as they were led through the stone corridors. If her heart was beating a bit faster than she would have liked to admit, well, then at least it was not readily evident.

Contrary to what the exterior suggested, the interior of the castle was actually quite well-maintained. The white stone used in much of the construction was scrubbed clean, and everything appeared to be regularly dusted. Fresh candles were set in polished fixtures along the walls, compensating in areas where the natural light from windows was not sufficient. All in all, it was a far cry from what Silvryn would have anticipated in a dark stronghold.

They ultimately came to a halt in front of two tall, dark, wooden doors, where a servant awaited them. Aderit conversed briefly with the elf, who proceeded to open one of the doors and usher the two prisoners inside as if they were expected guests come for tea. "Lord Raen will be with you shortly," he announced in lightly accented Common before closing them in the room. A faint but unmistakable click confirmed Silvryn's suspicion that all of this informality was little more than an act, and that they were still very much captives.

When this 'Lord Raen' did not appear after several minutes, Silvryn began to allow her gaze to wander curiously around the room. It was clearly a conference room, of sorts, simply furnished but still quite formal. The only true furniture was a long table of the same dark wood as the doors and its matching chairs. On the table rested a silver tray with several matching silver goblets and a crystal decanter filled with a dark red fluid. Tentatively, she took a step forward to more carefully examine the detailing on the goblets and tray, which were inlaid with intricate swirls and delicate flowers around the rim. She frowned slightly and picked one up. They almost resembled....

"Quite beautiful, aren't they?" a voice inquired mildly from across the room. Silvryn looked up in surprise to see a tall man - no, elf, he was far too graceful to be a mere mortal - approaching her. He had a simple elegance about him, from his clean-cut robes to the sensible manner in which his black hair was held back. He wore no finery aside from a thin silver circlet and a single elegant ring. But he bore authority like a garment in and of itself. "I received them as a gift from a dear friend, not too terribly long ago. I do not understand how he could have parted with such finery, but then, perhaps he did not recognize their significance."

He paused to pour the wine into two of the goblets and offered one to Silvryn, only to be met with an icy stare. She would not strike him. She would not. She would not give him the pleasure of the reaction that he so clearly desired, as gratifying as it would have been. That he would dare even enter the palace, much less help himself to its contents-! It took all of her willpower and then some to not sneer as she stiffly inclined her head. "Lord Raen, I presume." She did not even acknowledge the profered drink.

Raen merely arched an eyebrow returned the goblet to its place. "I trust you have been treated well, thus far?"

"With all due respect," Silvryn replied icily, "I would prefer that we dispel obligatory pleasantries and perhaps discuss why you have brought us here."

If Raen was bothered, then he did not show it. "They were not exaggerating in their accounts of you, then," he said musingly, not bothering to explicate upon who 'they' were. His dark blue gaze met Silvryn's momentarily, unnerving in its intensity. "Very well. I had hoped that we might maintain some level of decorum, but we shall be more direct, if that is your wish. You are here as my guest and as my bargaining piece, Your Highness. Your sole purpose is to stay alive for as long as I see fit. I care not what you do in the meantime."

He then turned toward Eledhe, as though noticing her for the first time. He covered the distance between them in a few easy steps and seized her chin before she could object. He turned her this way, then that, then let go after a moment further of appraisal. "Pretty enough, I suppose," he finally declared. "You might do in some of the lower levels - where no one would see you, of course. We cannot have you talking, after all."

----------------------

Kjan was asleep. Or at least, he had been, before the Phantom began tossing and turning and sighing and just making altogether too much noise. He groaned and attempted to turn over, only to encounter sharp resistance in the form of a metal bar. Cursing softly and putting a hand to his afflicted head, he slowly sat up and attempted to regain his bearings.

Ah, right. Cell. Still.

They had spent several hours the evening before waiting around for someone to at least come address them before finally resigning to the fact that they would be spending the night there and attempting to settle in as best they could. By Kjan's reckoning (as much as one could tell in the accursed cave), it was now nearly noon, or something close to it. At any rate, the guards had switched eight times in their time there, though he had no idea how long each shift was.

Whatever time it was, they had been there far too long. Kjan had just begun to wonder what the dwarven protocol for feeding prisoners was when the sound of heavy footsteps and jangling keys echoed down the corridor. Moments later, the dwarf who had identified himself as Orduum appeared with keys in hand and opened up the cell.

"Right, up with th' lot o' ye," the dwarf said gruffly, kicking awake the (un)fortunate few who were still soundly sleeping. "Ye've got an appointment that ye'd do best not t' miss. Not unless ye fancy waitin' another decade, that is."

It was no mean feat to render Eledhe speechless, particularly with her profusion of weapons that spoke for her when words were superfluous. In this instance, however, she'd been effectively relieved at the door - against her will - of every object on her person in possession of a sharp edge. And, made inarticulate by fury, she could do nothing but jerk backward, eyes narrowed to slits.

Pretty enough! Every bloody arrogant elf in this thrice-accursed place could just go turn their pure-blooded noses up in the underworld! Halfbreed, mongrel - Eledhe found her nails were digging into her palms with the effort it took not to lash out in attempt to give him the black eye he richly deserved. Perhaps she had learned something from that morning's journey; but it was a lesson that made every iota of her rebel. To be sneered at as inferior at every turn was quite different from discovering that it was true. Every elf in this place was superior to her physically, even - and Eledhe's pride fumed at the notion - Silvryn, and more so the coolly authoritative lord before her.

Dark gods, she itched for a shuriken between her fingers! Eledhe drew herself up, reminded of the height she hadn't inherited from these accursed elves. "Over my dead body," she snarled. "I'll talk when and where I please and if you and your bloody flaming arrogant elves don't like it then that's your bloody lookout."

---------

The Phantom got hastily and very obligingly to his feet, having no wish at all to spend even another three minutes on the floor. "Right, rise and shine, you lot," he said, feeling almost cheerful for the first time since...probably forty-eight hours ago. Contemplating a return to the outside elements - be they sleet, snow or come what may - was quite preferable to their current state of continuous dim torchlight and the vague sensation of a million tons of rock ready to come crashing down at the slightest provocation.

His attempted good mood was not quite reflected by the deadpan dwarf. "If yer gonna take all day, y'might as well stay 'ere," he muttered, trudging on ahead of them. "Humans."

"I wonder if it's any use trying to remain on his good side," said the Phantom in an undertone to Kjan. "I don't know if he has one."

_________________

Ash could recall having been told several times in his past that he could fall asleep anywhere, and he was putting the theory to the test. So far, it seemed to be working out just as predicted. Having gathered up a bit of straw Kjan hadn't used for his village, he fashioned a makeshift pillow and drifted off to sleep.

In fact, he had been dreaming- a rather nice dream, in fact, involving a bakery and a pretty baker's daughter. It was a really a shame that it had ended so soon.

Ash woke up with a start (or, more literally, with a boot in his stomach) and gasped for air. Why were these dwarves so testy all the time? Stumbling to his feet, he shook Dante and Jates' shoulders, just in case the dwarf hadn't managed to wake them with a kick. Ash knew they could be heavy sleepers sometimes. He followed the Phantom and Kjan out into the corridor, glad to be out of the cell, at least momentarily.

Dante blundered into one side of the wall and then the other. His face felt lumpy somehow, and after running a disoriented hand over it, he realized that the stone had left a neat little mark.

A low moan sounded from his stomach, and he wearily held his sides. If only one thing, he <i>had</i> lost those few extra pounds he'd kept postponing off since joining up with this group. Those and then some. And then some of the then some.

"If we have to go through one more tunnel," he muttered through gritted teeth, "I'm going to forget you kooks and find employment elsewhere."

Of course, that was complete posh. He wasn't even being employed, and by no means would they allow him to leave since he knew so much. Besides, where would he go... to the dwarves? <i>What</i> an idea. But when one was cold, exhausted, hungry, in the company of louts who smelt worse than flea-infested, slobbering dogs, and with a stone pattern tattooed on ones face... it felt nice to be in control of his own destiny.

_________________
<center>
"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

Lord Raen's expression as he endured the mercenary's tirade was unimpressed at best. Indeed, she had not even finished before he had turned away and begun to address Silvryn once more. "Where were we, milady? Ah, right, your purpose for being here. As I said, I care not what you do while you await your end. I can have books sent to your cell if you wish, or perhaps a cleric, if you seek reassurance concerning the life after. No reasonable expense shall be spared, no feasible request denied. You are, after all, the guest of honor."

He paused to take a sip from one of the goblets, looking contemplative. "I do consider it a shame that one so young should have to sacrifice so much. I would have much rather prefered that you wait a few more years to become a threat, or even had the decency to die the first time in ignorance. I had to rearrange quite a few things after you showed up again, you know. Quite troublesome."

"I am sorry to have been an inconvenience," Silvryn deadpanned, meeting his gaze steadily.

Raen tsked reproachfully. "Lying does not become you, Your Highness," he said with a slight smile. "Now-"

Whatever he had been about to say was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. Raen sighed quietly, then waved a hand. The door swung open to reveal the servant from earlier, who wordlessly strode in and whispered something in his master's ear. Raen seemed to consider a moment before nodding. "Of course. My lady, you shall have to excuse me. A most pressing matter requires my attention, and alas, I cannot be in two places at once. Perhaps we shall continue this fascinating dialogue at a later time. I bid you farewell." Seizing Silvryn's hand before she could object, he bowed and kissed it gently, then hurriedly exited the room. A last-minute command was called over his shoulder in Elvish before he disappeared down the corridor.

The servant took one look at the waiting women, then turned to leave. "You will come with me," he ordered, motioning sharply. "Lord Raen wishes for you to be shown your quarters."

Neither of them was given much choice, as a dozen armed guards had evidently been brought for the sole purpose of ensuring that they did, in fact, come. They were escorted by the guards down several levels to their 'quarters,' which turned out to be no more than two adjacent cells in the castle's dungeon. They did get their very own private guard, however. Or at least, Silvryn did.

After several minutes of inspecting the cell, Silvryn slowly sat down in the least filthy corner. The guards at the door had been exceedingly thorough and had thus managed to locate and remove every last potential lockpick on her person. The mercenary had been searched with similar results, making immediate escape not much of a possibility. And besides that, the elvish guards seemed nothing if not formidable, and neither she nor Eledhe had any sort of weapon. Just lovely.

"I do not suppose you've any experience escaping elvish prisons?" she asked darkly, still not looking over at the mercenary.

-----------------------------

"I'll have ye know I was in a quite fine mood before bein' subjected to you lot," Orduum called back irritably. "The missus an' I had just been-"

If the dwarf went on beyond there, then Kjan didn't hear it. Probably because he was doing his very best not to. "I think this is his good side," Kjan muttered back with a slight grimmace. "Or at least, his better side. Which is incentive in and of itself to never get on his worse side. I dread to even picture it."

Orduum merely shook his head as he led them along, muttering something under his breath about blasted humans. After quite a long trek, they finally came to a halt outside the closed doors of what looked to be a fairly impressive chamber. The commander rapped out a complicated rhythm on the door, then waited. A few moments later, there was a shout for them to come in (plus or minus a few expletives).

Eledhe did not reply, as the answer was unfortunately evident. She was standing in the center of the bare cell, fists clenched, looking as close to desperate as she ever had. Her every dagger, throwing star, lockpick and sundry other helpful object had been found and appropriated; every bloody elf in this place seemed to find her resistance either tiresome or vaguely amusing; and of all people to be stuck with, she got Silvryn.

She wanted very much to strangle someone.

"No," she snapped finally, turning. She was nearly breathless, and pale from fury. "Dark gods as my witness, the next bloody elf who so much as breathes the word 'halfbreed' can spend a cursed eternity in the flaming underworld!" she exploded. "I haven't the slightest idea," she continued in a snarl, rounding on Silvryn. "You're the thrice-cursed elf! According to everyone in this place, I'm just the halfbreed who's incapable of coherent thought, let alone anything resembling intelligence!"

Eledhe found she was hurling curses at empty stone, an elven guard who couldn't care less, and a princess whose expression might as well have been part of the rock for how much emotion it betrayed. With a start, she realized that this was as close to helpless as she'd felt in - likely decades. This was why she was a mercenary. This was why she could flick a dagger from between her fingers in the time it took to blink. So that feeling helpless was not a bloody option!

Slowly, she unclenched her fists, and sat down. Think. There must be something. There was always something. But this time - ah, dark gods, if she could get her hands on that elf lord!

Eledhe found herself close to tears of sheer fury. There was nothing!

Vaguely, in her peripheral vision, she noticed the elf guard yawn and shift position, bored. He cast a glance backward, then sauntered a few feet into the next room, where several of his fellows were idly playing a game involving the cursed reflexes Eledhe didn't have, the quickness she couldn't match -

"How much elf?"

The voice was an even tenor, rasping slightly. Warily, Eledhe turned. The elf in the next cell was young for his race, possessed of the whip-slender, agile appearance of the majority of the race she'd seen. He was regarding her with a wary sort of interest, though an interest admittedly devoid of disdain. Perhaps that was due to the heavy manacles that kept him tethered to the far wall, and an appearance that spoke subtly of ill-use. Eledhe imagined those might be somewhat pride-deflating.

She was out of curses. "Don't know," she responded, voice flatly neutral. "Either too much or too little, depending on which way you're prejudiced," she added savagely.

"Where I come from," he said, slowly, "half-elf children are raised with their elven relatives."

Eledhe didn't respond. She heard the manacles clank as he shifted position. Then, directed past her at Silvryn - "I'm sorry, milady. I am prevented from paying you the proper respect. I am Adaniar of Terranwood."

------

The Phantom, having been given a gesture to proceed by the taciturn Orduum, stepped into the room first. He was confronted by a confused impression that snow had somehow fallen inside the mined city, creating a sort of white coat over every surface in the chamber.

This was quickly corrected, however, when he blinked and discovered that it was parchment - sheafs and sheafs of parchment, occupying every available surface.

And people called his apartments cluttered.

"Right, er, excuse me," he offered, in the direction of what appeared to be a dwarf - maybe - among these reams of paper. "I'm Phantom Grey. And this is my...er...um, they're mostly..." he trailed off. "Well, that one's Kjan."

The dwarf - it was visibly a dwarf now - grunted and turned around to scrutinize them all. "Ye been takin' up beggaring?" he inquired, looking the bedraggled five of them over. "Impressive rebellion y'got."

The Phantom had forgotten how scathingly sarcastic dwarves could be. "There are more," he responded, a little indignant. "For how upset your gate guards were at five, I certainly wasn't going to bring any more with me."

The dwarf grunted. "Right. I 'aven't got all day, whaddya wanna know?"

_________________

Silvryn looked up in something akin to surprise, then inclined her head politely. "Silvryn-"

"-Seilhera. Your name is far from unknown to my kin," Adaniar said, returning the gesture. "It is an honor to make your acquaintance, milady."

Silvryn nodded absently. "Likewise."

Having exchanged the customary pleasantries, both fell silent - Silvryn because she was not accustomed to making small talk in prison, and Adaniar for some reason known only to him. Silvryn was almost convinced that the elf had fallen asleep, given that his eyes were closed and he had not so much as stirred in several minutes. Light, almost inaudible footsteps could be heard in the corridor, and moments later an elven guard strode past. The instant that the footfalls faded once more, however, Adaniar's eyes sprung open.

"Your Highness," he whispered urgently, leaning forward as far as his bonds would allow. "You must listen carefully, for I haven't much time. I knew your father." Silvryn opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a hand to cut her off. "Your real father."

Silvryn regarded their fellow prisoner narrowly. Who was he to know of such things? That she was not by birth the daughter of the former king and queen of Kytana was a fact known to a very select few, and indeed had only been disclosed to her shortly before her own 'death'. Many members of the court had even gone so far as to remark from time to time on how very much the young princess resembled her mother. As far as Silvryn knew, none save her parents and her father's very closest advisor knew any different. For a complete stranger - an elf, no less - to state it as a matter of fact.... "Do expound."

"Were I gifted with adequate time in which to tell the full tale, my lady, do not doubt that I would. For now, however, suffice it to say that he was a very skilled and powerful leader. I say 'was' because he is, most lamentably, no longer with us. We strongly suspect that piece of filth upstairs who dares call himself lord, but that is another tale altogether. Our people are scattered, fading, a mere echo of what we once were. I, with my few centuries of experience, have done what I can to hold the race together, but alas. I am merely an advisor, unable to accomplish what a true leader might."

"I am afraid that I do not follow."

Adaniar strained to lean even further forward, pulling his chains as taut as possible. "Princess, do you never wonder how it is that centuries of elven traits scattered among the nobles managed to all converge in a single being? Such pure expression has never before been seen in a mere human."

"I..." Silvryn faltered, gesturing helplessly. What was there to say, really? She was not even certain of what he was implying, though if it was what she suspected....Impossible. Simply impossible. He was mistaken or desperate or quite simply mad. Who knew how long he had spent in captivity? To even consider proposing that...

"My lady," the elf repeated, his intense gaze now fixed directly on Silvryn. "I know on good authority that several of my best warriors will be arriving today, and that there should be sufficient confusion for a prisoner to slip out unnoticed. You must escape. You are a threat to Raen, for as long as a leader remains, the elves will not swear fealty to him, regardless of the cost. There is every possibility that I will die this day. Should this be the case, then it is absolutely imperative that you carry on in my stead. I know of your allegiance with one 'Phantom Grey,' and though I am ordinarily loath to entrust such matters to the hands of a mere mortal, it is a necessary risk. I-"

Suddenly, footsteps could be heard in the corridor once more, and Adaniar quickly returned to his previous position. "Seek out Dyrian," he hastily whispered before closing his eyes once more.

Eledhe listened in keen, startled interest, her mind working furiously to make the connections between what this elf was telling them, and what was going on. Silvryn, heir to - the Elvish throne? Perhaps not throne in a literal sense of the word, but to be connected to both -! This had possibilities. Eledhe wrapped her mind around the concept with predatory ferocity, conclusions rapidly fitting into place.

First and foremost, Silvryn was far more powerful than they'd originally thought, and that was saying volumes. The princess was easily the most key part of the entire rebellion. For a moment, Eledhe weighed the two possibilities that first sprang to mind. Given the choice, would she see a monarch like Silvryn - or that arrogant lord up in his chambers? As any mercenary would, she rapidly assimilated the advantages of each. And however Eledhe disliked Silvryn, the conclusions were inescapable.

There was nothing for her to gain here. A brief mental image of life under the kind of authority these elves would exercise was unattractive, to say the least. As for rebellion...

Well, that was a choice easily made.

The thought of it was solely what prevented Eledhe from pacing like a caged wildcat over the next few hours. As it was, her fingers itched for a throwing star between her fingers, if only from force of habit. Silence was predominant, neither of her neighboring cellmates being inclined to conversation, which suited Eledhe fine. She was mired in intense thought when the first irregular sound for hours, footsteps on the stairs, jerked her back to vigilance.

Not that it was needed. The company, four elves dressed identically in what she recognized as the guard uniform, ignored her utterly. The one, with a perceptible air of mockery, muttered an enchantment over the lock on Silvryn's cell and held open the door with a half-bow and a snide, "Your subjects have arrived, milady. They are unconvinced by assurances of your presence, and wish to confirm it in the flesh."

On Eledhe's other side, Adaniar fell to hands and knees as he was released, and his pair of guards hauled him upright. The elf's face was ashen, and not from fear; he seemed physically spent. Eledhe wondered - with an uncharacteristic rush of apprehension - if perhaps he would not be descending the dungeon steps alive.

She got to her feet, watching, every muscle tense. If she had the chance...but they were turning, pair of captives in tow. "Wait," said Eledhe, smothering the urgent tone in her voice. "Wait - what about me?"

One of the elves, who had mocked respect to Silvryn, turned with an arched eyebrow. He seemed amused. "Listen, the halfbreed talks," he commented loftily, indicating her to one of his fellows with a jerk of his head. "Perhaps it can understand us."

He turned halfway, grinning. "Perhaps later, when my lord finds himself lacking in amusement," was all the response Eledhe got. Dark gods curse it, this could be her only chance! She swallowed the urge to spout a volley of curses after them, and only managed to catch Silvryn's gaze before she was gone.

She very much hoped that her thoughts were effectively communicated - by the seven levels of the underworld, if you leave this place without me, I will spill every secret I ever knew.

----

The Phantom considered adding some backstory to what he was about to request, but after a moment's consideration he decided it was better to get directly to the point. "The Heartshard," he began. "I need to know where it is, why, and how I can get to it."

Infuriatingly, the dwarf remained contemplatively silent for a moment. Eventually, he turned and appraised the Phantom shrewdly. "Y'ready for a history lesson, boy?"

The Phantom was thirty-three, and hadn't been a boy for quite some time, but he let it pass. "Provided the information I requested comes with it," he replied, looking around for a chair.

The dwarf grunted. When they were all seated on whatever was available, he cleared his throat self-importantly. "Right, m'name's Belgaard, and yer not gonna get told twice, so listen up when m'talking." He paused, scrutinizing them all suspiciously as if checking for whispers, and continued. As he spoke, he twirled the end of his beard around one stubby finger. It reminded Phaerin of a tutor he'd once had, one of the less effectual ones. He couldn't recall an effectual one, actually, but the dwarf was giving him an unimpressed look so he stopped thinking about tutors and listened intently.

"Right, the Heartshard," Belgaard began contemplatively. "So back when there were more dwarves, fewer 'umans, and everyone was a deal happier, there was a dragon. He lived 'ere, actually" - he made a vague movement indicative of the city - "and y'know how dragons are, they're 'orrible selfish beasts. Can't get enough jewels an' gold. This particular one, people said he was made of riches, 'coz 'e glittered like a bloody diamond mine." Belgaard seemed to find this offensive. The Phantom made a sympathetic sound and was glared at. "So, turns out, one day," Belgaard continued, still twirling his beard around a finger, "some fool'ardy young dwarves come across this bloody great dragon, and 'e's dead. Died of old age. So they cart off the stuff, come back and find that the dragon 'imself's disintegrated into a heap o' gems as big as he was." Belgaard paused, looking disdainful. "Typical of the great selfish beasts. So th' idiot dwarves are pleased as punch, o'course, and cart off all o' these ones too. One priceless looby goes for the biggest one o' the lot, and it does somethin' magical and blows him to bits."

He stopped for effect, and the Phantom wondered if he should seem impressed, but Belgaard kept going. "Th' others are intelligent enough to know somethin' magical when they see it, and leave the flamin' thing alone. One of th' lot, though, was a prince - not renowned for 'is smarts, mind you - and he goes along and picks the thing up. O' course, it works like a charm for 'im, and it sets 'em all talkin' about how this crystal is choosy and it must only work for the royalty, or some such bloomin' balderdash. Turns out they were right, called it the 'eartshard 'coz it was a heart, everyone's 'appy."

The Phantom was rapidly assimilating the possibilities here, and opened his mouth to excitedly interject, but the dwarf kept right on going. "'m not done, hold yer horses. So all the dwarf royalty are pleased as daisies 'n the sunlight, 'coz this is useful for battles and such. Until one dimwitted king dies w'no heir, and the they think crystal doesn't like that so much. Looks pretty, but useless now, 'coz nobody will touch it. Next dwarf king gets chosen and 'e's too much of a coward to try it, so 'e carts it off to some chamber somewhere, built for the purpose. There's yer story."

"But where is it now?" interjected the Phantom.

Belgaard regarded him disdainfully. "Bloody impatient 'umans, can't even wait fer me to finish," he muttered to himself. "Turns out," he continued pointedly in the Phantom's direction, "Heartshard works for 'uman royalty too. Can't have that. So th' king moved it, 'coz that fella y'got for a monarch seems a bit dodgy."

"Oh, he is," agreed the Phantom hastily. "We don't want him in charge."

"Y'can't have the 'eartshard, though," pointed out Belgaard. "So y'might as well be off. He gave them one last scrutiny, and shrugged. "'nless y'wanted to find it and try. Y'got possibilities over there on the left."

He waved a hand, and the Phantom cast Jate, who was sitting over by the far wall, a puzzled look. Possibilities. Well, Eledhe had gone off with their best possibility, he thought in disgust. Maybe it would work for him - he might be distantly related to the royal family, after all. Feeling deflated inwardly, he let out his breath in a sigh. "Can you give us a map? Perhaps I'll be the foolhardy one and give this a try."

Belgaard raised a bushy eyebrow. "Unstop yer ears. Y'got an heir right over there." This time he was unmistakably pointing at Jate. "Yer a prince, boy, or I'm a cave lizard."

_________________

Silvryn's mind whirled as she attempted to assimilate all that had transpired in the past forty-eight hours. Kidnapping, mercenaries, double-crossing, new threats, elves....She felt uncharacteristically shaken - bewildered, even. How she was meant to comprehend all that had been so haphazardly thrust at her was beyond her. So caught up in her thoughts was she that Silvryn only registered what was happening when the number of guards suddenly went from four to two - conscious guards, that is.

The two remaining guards hastily bowed. "My lord and my lady," one said deferentially.

"Well met, Lindar," Adaniar replied, making an effort to conceal his exhaustion. "I take it the ambassadors are still with Raen?"

"I certainly hope that is the case, my lord. This may all be for naught if it is otherwise. My lady, forgive me for failing to pay you proper regard at the moment, but we must hasten. Raen is anything but a fool, and our window of opportunity ever shrinks."

Adaniar nodded resolutely, but Silvryn seemed to hesitate fractionally. She had not failed to register the mercenary's scathing glare as they had left, nor to infer its intended message. Compounded with the fact she trusted Eledhe as far as she could throw her and the nagging thought at the back of her mind that not even one such as Eledhe deserved to remain at the mercy of Raen...."Wait. We must first retrieve someone."

"My lady?"

"She is...a liability. She will talk if left behind, if only for the satisfaction of revenge. We must take her with us, or this will be, as you said, all for naught."

The pair of warriors seemed hesitant, but Adaniar nodded in agreement and motioned for them to follow. They could not afford to take chances.