by Dave Gross
Cages
Alturiak, 1371 DR
Darrow began his new service with mingled hope and trepidation, yet working for Radu's strange brother was more agreeable than he could have expected. His awe of Stannis was mingled with dread, for he realized his new master was some sort of monster.
Unlike the monsters he had heard described in songs and tales, Stannis was talkative, even friendly, in stark contrast to his taciturn brother. His exaggerated charm soothed the horror Dar-row felt in his new master's presence. As long as he avoided looking directly into those molten eyes, Darrow could address Stannis naturally, as if his master were a mere mortal.
After Radu's departure, Stannis showed Darrow the servants' quarters. There was even a butler's private chamber, but Darrow preferred the expanse of the main room and chose the bed that seemed most comfortable. He asked about fetching his clothes from Radu's tallhouse, but Stannis showed him a wardrobe full of old Malveen family livery. The black and purple garments were striking, if rather dusty. Darrow liked the Malveen crest as well: a crimson octopus holding a sword, a scepter, a scroll, and a set of scales.
In addition to forbidding him to leave the house, Stannis warned Darrow not to disturb the windows, which were boarded shut both from the inside and on the exterior. Darrow presumed they were warded similarly to the entrance, but he also realized his master must despise the daylight.
On the upper floors were drawing rooms, a barren library, and twin music galleries overlooking the main promenade, which Stannis called the River Hall. The creaking floors and spectral array of covered furnishings made Darrow glad to return to the ground floor, where he spent the rest of his first day uncovering furniture. He was not used to domestic chores, but the work kept him occupied until dusk, when he returned to the River Hall.
Beside the stream he found a wet basket of squirming eels and twitching fish on a bed of seaweed. Darrow noted the inhuman footprints that left a trail between the water and the basket. The delivery had come courtesy of one of Stannis's repellent minions. Unlike their master, the creatures had no fascinating hold over Darrow. They frightened and repelled him.
Stannis appeared soon after Darrow found the food, rising from the fabulous pool as he had the night before.
"Welcome home, my master," said Darrow. "Shall I prepare your dinner now?"
"Don't be foolish," said Stannis, not unkindly. "You realize I do not eat as you do."
"Of course, master," said Darrow. Shame warmed his face.
"You understand what I have become?"
"I… I don't know, master."
"Surely you do, child. Say it. Say the word."
Darrow hesitated, debating whether this was a test of his manners or of his honesty. He could feel his master's impatience grow as he wrestled with indecision. At last he sputtered out, "Vampire, my lord."
"Good. Now come." He took a jeweled goblet from the counting table. "Bring the food, and I will introduce you to your new charges."
He led Darrow to a gallery off the River Hall. Its carved door swung noisily open at their approach. Darrow glimpsed the dark, naked figure that held it open for them. It glistened even in the shadows, and it stank of rotting fish.
"Pay them no mind," said Stannis, gliding through the doorway. "Disgusting things. I don't know why I keep making them."
Inside the gallery, crushed velvet couches encircled four purple-veined marble pillars on a mosaic floor. Throughout the room, statues of jet and alabaster lionized long-dead sorcerers and sea captains, while long glass cabinets displayed smaller carvings, painted masks, bizarre fetishes, and a dozen ineffable relics of distant exploration. Dust dimmed every surface.
On every wall hung paintings of Malveen ancestors, most of them long faced and fair skinned, with hair that grew thin but not gray on the older men. The women shared a legacy of intelligent eyes and thin, taut lips.
"Here," said Malveen, floating gracefully toward one of the largest portraits. A thin line of seawater still trailed behind him.
The painting was a life-sized depiction of a dour old merchant with long mustaches and watery blue eyes. Darrow thought it looked like an older, weaker Radu. "My great uncle Vilsek," said Stannis. He held one finger up before his veil. "Shh! He keeps a secret for us."
Stannis lifted a part of the painting's dark metal frame. With a faint groan, the painting and the wall behind it moved outward to reveal a secret passage.
"Here," said Malveen. He spoke a few arcane words and sprinkled glittering red dust into the goblet he had brought. Bright flames leaped from the cup and remained there, dancing. Stannis gave the chalice to Darrow, who was not surprised to feel that it remained cool.
Beyond the secret door was a wide, spiraling stairway. As they began the descent, Darrow sensed dark shapes looming above him. He looked up, fearful of what he might see.
Mounted toxthe stone walls were the preserved heads of great beasts. He saw the hooked face of an owlbear, the sleek head of a displacer beast, the hideous twin visages of a two-headed troll, and even more dangerous monsters. Griffin, manticore, dire wolf, wyvern, krenshar, and some beaked and tentacled horror of which Darrow had never heard all watched silently as they made their descent. The hides of some of them had turned yellow and waxy. Darrow wondered how long it had taken the Malveens to accumulate such a collection.
They continued to descend, spiraling down more than thirty feet below the ground floor. Darrow wondered how long before they reached sea level. The River Hall's stream must be linked to Selgaunt Bay, he thought.
At last they emerged into a wide arena. Pour tiers of seats surrounded a sunken pit, thirty feet in diameter. Stone braziers cupped green perpetual flames at intervals along the encircling rail, from which irregular spikes jutted down. Varicolored sand covered the pit floor except in the very middle, where a black hole gaped eight feet wide. Around its mouth were blades stained with ragged bits of rotting matter.
"The baiting pit," explained Stannis. "My great uncle's passion has been neglected for over two decades. I like to think he would be pleased with our little revival."
Darrow smelled the faint odor of salt water. "Where does it lead?" he asked, looking down at the bladed pit. "The sewers?"
"Oh, no," said Stannis, amused. "Someplace worse. Someplace far worse. Now come."
Along the perimeter of the viewing stands, Darrow saw two more exits. One of them was a tarnished brass gate with a prominent lock. Stannis led the way and opened the portal with one of the dozen keys that hung from his chain veil. Darrow followed his master down another curving stairway, then along a passage that ringed the central pit. At last they came to a barbed portcullis.
"Watch," said Stannis, indicating a bar projecting from the wall. He inserted another key from his veil and twisted it twice widdershins. Then he pushed the bar up and quickly pulled it down again. The clangor of chains came from beyond the wall, and the portcullis rose steadily.
"How does it open?" asked Stannis. His tone was condescending but oddly gentle.
"Key twice around to the left, bar up, then down."
"What a clever child you are," cooed Stannis. He stroked Darrow's face with cool, moist fingers, then pressed the key into Darrow's hand. "It is important not to forget. There are many more doors to show you, many more secrets. See that you remember them all."
Darrow nodded. Stannis's touch had left cool, wet traces on his cheek.
"Now you must meet your charges."
The hall beyond the portcullis stank faintly of animal musk, but the odor of straw and filth was stronger. A wide passage curved around the perimeter of the baiting pit, and down its center ran a stream of water over which precisely cut stones formed a. walkway. Dark stains showed that it was used as a sewage trough.
To each side of the passage were three cells. Each was the size of a horse's stall, with iron bars as thick as a man's forearm in the back and front. Beyond the rear bars was a slotted iron wall with tracks for gears. Darrow guessed they could be raise
d to allow entrance to the central pit.
All three of the cells were presently occupied.
In one, a massive troll squatted on the straw. A pair of buckets comprised the cell's only decor. Darrow was surprised to see that the monster wore fine leather breeches and a sleeveless shirt big enough to make a sail. The creature's rubbery green skin stretched tight over bulging muscles. As Darrow and Stannis approached, it rose to its full height of over eight feet, the beads in its braided hair rattling gently.
"Urn brata nglath heem, Malveen?"
"Grata nglath heem weeta," replied Stannis. His voice was smooth and graceful even when uttering the guttural words.
The troll nodded once and sat on the floor.
"His name is Voorla, Slayer of Eight Chiefs," Malveen told Darrow. "Quite a charming fellow, if you speak the language. You'll have no trouble with him, for he fancies himself a troll of honor and has given me his word of conduct. All the same, mind the bars when you leave his supper."
Two cells past Voorla, a pair of elves stood against the far wall, between a pair of cots. They looked like brothers, each with the same cream-colored skin and long black hair. They wore ill-fitting tunics and kilts, obviously not their own clothing. One touched the other's arm as they silently watched their captor glide past.
"Don't they just ooze arrogance? No idea what they call themselves," said Malveen. "If they weren't so exotic, I wouldn't bother saving them for Radu."
Darrow looked at the elves. They stared back at him. In their green eyes he saw patient loathing. It gave him an odd pang in his belly, and swallowing didn't help it. He looked away from them, but he could feel the reproach of the elves' eyes upon his neck. He hastened to follow Stannis to the next cell.
The woman was so short and muscular that Darrow mistook her for a shaved dwarf at first. She had a dwarf's scowling expression for them, but her face was startlingly pretty.
"Darrow, this our most cherished guest. Maelin, I trust you will find Darrow more agreeable than your former keepers."
Maelin's curses were as colorful as any Darrow had heard on the wharf.
"Your mastery of the language never ceases to inspire, my child," said Stannis. "And here I deluded myself into thinking you would be grateful."
"Just let me in the pit," she said, "where I can spit your damned brother and be free of this filthy hole."
"All in due time, my dear. I assure you that Radu would like nothing better, but you are still far too valuable to us alive."
"There's no ransom," she said. "How many times do I have to tell you that?"
"Oh, but there is, my dear. Did I forget to tell you? We discovered the one person in all Faerun who cares whether you live or die."
She looked at him a long moment before speaking. "You're lying."
"Such directness is to be expected of one who fancies herself a swordswoman, I suppose," sighed Stannis. "Yet it is a habit you would do well to renounce, along with your predilection for a dockside vocabulary. One would have expected your father to have taught you better manners."
Maelin spat on the floor beneath Stannis, who pretended not to notice.
"Imagine our surprise when we found him within this very city. When Radu showed him your bracelet, he appeared most eager to secure your release."
"I want nothing to do with him," said Maelin. "He's got no money, anyway."
"Fortunately for you, my child," said Stannis, "he has much more to offer than money."
*****
At night, Darrow listened to Stannis's tales and gossip, interjecting only rarely to ask a question. He wondered one night what had become of Rusk, the Huntmaster.
"Alas, my old friend rebuffs my hospitality, preferring to make his lair in the abandoned south wing. He finds my new form disquieting," said Malveen. "You don't find me repulsive, do you, dear boy?"
"No, my lord. You are the most majestic being I have ever seen," he said sincerely. Part of Barrow's mind knew and loathed Stannis for what he was, but another part was completely in thrall to his master. His servant mind was, by far, the stronger.
"Sadly," said Malveen, "few would agree with you. Most would prefer, my previous appearance. I was more handsome than any of my brothers, you know. They were jealous of me, even when we were boys."
"How were you…" Darrow struggled to find the words. "… how did you…"
"Transcend my former self?" "I meant no disrespect, my lord."
"Of course you didn't, dear boy. Your interest is flattering. You have heard of my mother's talent for magic, which I inherited?"
"Of course, my lord."
"And of her traffic with, shall we say, unsanctioned merchant vessels?" "Pirates, master?"
"Just so. One of her allies in this venture was native to the sea. When the other Houses combined to ruin her, mother summoned him from the sunless depths. By dusk, when he could venture above the surface, our vessel had burned to the waterline, and the victors were finishing us off with crossbows. Our ally found me quite helpless in the water, but still alive. Knowing I had no means to survive in the open sea, he embraced me as I drowned, adding his powerful blood to my own."
"How strange!" said Darrow with enthusiasm-but not too much enthusiasm. He had learned that Stannis enjoyed such formal interjections and had practiced them. "But how did you return to Selgaunt?"
"You understand the nature of my condition, yes? You wonder why I did not remain in my sire's thrall?" "My lord, I do."
"He grew curious about the contents of my mother's estate," said Malveen. "In short, he wished to add her plunder to his own. I could only obey, you understand. One cannot act against the desires of one's master. Fortunately, we arrived on the same evening Radu had chosen to visit the house alone. My brother was not pleased to see my new condition, so he severed me from my master's domination.''
"He killed the vampire?"
"He did!" Malveen applauded his own story with a childlike clap of his flabby hands. "And in so doing freed me from my servitude. Now I am the master of Selgaunt Bay and House Malveen."
"But, my lord, this happened twenty years ago. How could your brother have slain a vampire? He must have been still a boy."
"Oh, my child," said Malveen. His voice lost its mirth as he confided, "Radu was never a boy."
*****
Within a tenday, caring for the prisoners became routine. There was little to the task, since the captives threw their own slops into the hall, where the sewage trough washed most away. Darrow swept the rest into the stream, whose source was a wide, overflowing basin at the end of the passage that filled itself as mysteriously as did the waterfall in the River Hall. The water was fresh and clean before spilling into the trough. He wondered whether the water was conjured from another place or merely redirected and filtered from the bay.
The important chore was to feed the prisoners. They were used to raw fish or shellfish with seaweed. The elves disdained the meat, while Voorla devoured the fish and eels with relish. Maelin looked in her supper bucket with disgust.
"You could at least cook it," she said one day. "You know how to cook, don't you?"
"Yes," said Darrow.
"Then bring me a cooked meal."
"Why should I?"
She looked him up and down. "I could make it worth the effort."
Darrow considered her implied offer. Her face was not pretty in the usual sense, but there was a fierce energy in her eyes, and he liked the fine lines at the corners of her lips. Her body was firm and her hips curvaceous. She was strong, though, and probably a better fighter than he was. He could make her put on manacles before he entered the cell, he thought…
Before the fantasy could take root, Darrow thought of the master's displeasure should he find him in her cell.
"Forget it," he said.
"Please," she said. "It's little work to fry a fish."
There was a kitchen upstairs, which Darrow used for his own meals.
"I'll think about it," he said.
Four day
s later, Darrow returned with skewers filled with grilled prawns, bass, onions, and thick carrot slices. He was careful to remove the skewers before leaving the shallow bucket by Maelin's cell door.
"Great Chauntea!" Maelin exclaimed at the first smell of the cooked meal. "I can't believe it! Where'd you get the onions and carrots?"
"Lord Malveen sent me to the market yesterday," said Darrow.
The master had wanted the gallery cleaned, and Darrow needed a mop and a feather duster to do it properly. Since he needed supplies, he also asked permission to fill the larder for himself. He was still surprised at Stannis's generous allowance, and he was grateful for the display of trust.
As Maelin savored her meal, Darrow fed the others. The elves gazed at him suspiciously, and Voorla sniffed at his bucket. After a careful taste, the troll scooped handfuls of fish into his fanged mouth.
"Meer ngla todu fosha," said the troll.
"You're welcome," said Darrow. He hadn't a clue what the troll had said.
After he'd swept the walkway and collected the dinner buckets, Darrow saw Maelin sitting on her cot. She looked at him with a calm expression.
"Are you coming in?" she asked.
For the past three nights, he had thought of nothing else but the touch of her hands, her mouth, her legs. He had never lain with a woman, and he wanted her; there was no question about that. But if it were a trick, or if Stannis should find out… he dared not take the chance.
"Maybe tomorrow."
He said the same thing the next day, and the next. Each time, his fear overcame his desire.
*****
Nearly a month into Darrow's new servitude, Stannis announced a special occasion to be held in the secret arena. Darrow's stomach filled with cold dread, for he suspected the day spelled disaster for one of the prisoners. He busied himself with the day's chores to keep his mind from the evening's events.
When the appointed hour arrived, Radu appeared beside Stannis's pool. When the bloated, eel-like vampire rose from the water, Darrow was ready to drape his master's favorite mantle about his smooth shoulders.