Post by Zola Rhomdaen on Oct 17, 2024 6:39:08 GMT
(Continued from The Twin Matrons.)
Ten days later.
When Zola knocks on and opens the door to her sister’s bedroom, Larynda has just finished being dressed by her handmaids, wearing her long hair down and a lovely white dress that exposes her midriff.
Zola gestures at herself, outfitted in her usual suit of adamantine plate though with a small addition: a target on her left pauldron emblazoned with the starcross of House Rhomdaen. “Is this okay?” she asks.
Larynda turns to look at her and grimaces. She raises a hand, about to order one of the handmaids to fetch a spare dress from the wardrobe, but then she stops. “Yes, it’s fine. Let them see you as you are, how you are confident, not what you think they want to see.”
Zola smiles. “Well, this is me. This has always been me. But we should totally go dress shopping together sometime!” She goes to link arms with Larynda as they proceed out the room and down the stairs.
There is a look of bemusement at the comment. “Shopping? Zola, we have our dresses custom-made.”
“Well, we need inspiration for what we tell our tailors to make, right?”
“I suppose… But we should be setting the standard. Our trip should inspire those to be like us.”
“Huh, yeah. I guess we are fashion icons simply by virtue of being Matrons. Cool!”
Larynda gives another bemused look at the use of the word “cool”, but makes no remark.
A drider-pulled carriage is already waiting for them outside, a mode of transport reserved for the special armed forces and Matron Mothers who wish to make a statement. Zola is still uncomfortable with the idea of people — who have been cursed by Lolth, no less — doing a job meant for beasts of burden, but… When in Aeschira, do as the Aeschirans do, I guess.
Once they are both seated within, Larynda raps her fist on the ceiling of the carriage and it begins moving, rolling slowly away from Molgar, Kekoph, and Vorn in front of the mansion gates. They are headed for the council building in the city centre. Larynda had explained that there are two chambers in this building: the Web’s Compass, a general council in which every noble house has a seat, and the Heart’s Head, a council of the representatives of the great houses and where things actually get done.
They’d received an invitation to meet in the Heart’s Head, but Larynda isn’t happy about this. She told Zola that there was a third location, some secret place in strictly neutral grounds where the great matrons gather. To have been called to the Heart’s Head instead, despite being the legitimate heirs of House Rhomdaen, is something of a snub.
Personally, Zola is just glad they want to speak to her at all, given the shitstorm she’s caused.
The carriage stops outside a large and ornate stalagmite building. As the twin sisters step off, a woman in formal attire with the crest of House Rhomdaen sewn on greets them both with a slight bow — Sabuit Rhomdaen, another first cousin from their mother’s side and their official representative at the Heart’s Head, the house’s mouthpiece in the council. She is a bespectacled woman with a bob cut that frames her face, and Zola recognises the family resemblance in her features immediately.
“Cousin Sabuit, very pleased to meet you. I’m Zola. So, what should we expect today?”
“My pleasure, Lady Zola. I know you are new to our city, so do you have much knowledge of what to expect in general?” Sabuit glances at Larynda, who chimes in with, “Start at the beginning.”
“Very well,” she says as she leads them into the building. “We will be meeting with the official representatives of the different houses in the Heart’s Head. Normally, this is the kind of thing I would handle for you, but…given the recent developments, you will also be involved. Each of the major houses have their own representatives in attendance today; besides us, there will be:
“Mizzrym Gorr for House Gorr. She is very softly spoken, but she knows the position her family holds in the city, so do not mistake her for a pushover. She will likely try to be fair, but if she begins leaning against you, she would be hard to sway back.
“Coranros Ithyr for House Ithyr. One of the two men in the council. Another quiet but respectful character, but he can be quite forceful with his arguments. There was some chatter among the other representatives when he took the position a few years ago, being a man, but he’s generally accepted now as the representative for House Ithyr.”
Larynda stops Sabuit there. “Zola has informed me of something quite interesting regarding Matron Hyoseer Ithyr. I doubt Coranros will be pleasant with us, but we have something we can allude to to make him back off if need be.”
Sabuit looks surprised. “Truly? Well, all the better then. He was one I was going to warn you of, Zola. If you do feel the need to bring it up, though, do be careful and tactful. Playing your hand too early will lessen its effect and too late may seem desperate. If you wish, I can keep an eye on him and make that play for you?”
“Yes, please. I defer to your expertise,” Zola says and discreetly passes a tiny roll of parchment to Sabuit. She had written upon it the full account of what she had witnessed in the tomb of Egwynir the Wordweaver 8 months ago, the embarrassment the Ithyrs had subjected themselves to.
Sabuit scans the parchment’s contents rapidly before slipping it into her robe, secure and hidden. “Excellent.”
“We’re relying on you to keep Coranros in check with this information, Sabuit,” says Larynda. “And it goes without saying that you should keep this information close to your chest.”
“Of course.”
“Right. So who else will be there?”
“The other man in the room is Antoyn Shanmet, for the broken House of Shanmet. He doesn’t really have much weight behind him, of course, so I wouldn’t worry too much about any opposition from him.
“Umrala Menat for House Menat. You will know her for the way she wears her hair up all the time and air of self importance. I’ve already spoken with her and understand your mutual connection — Mavis Thovian has made a case for you. She seems inclined to hear you both out, so at the very least, tolerate her. You don’t want to undo anything Mavis has done already.”
Zola gives a vigorous nod. She had spent much of the last tenday petitioning the Ambassador from Daring Heights to speak of her illustrious adventuring record to House Menat. It seems her efforts are paying off.
“Dhautree T’sylan for House T’sylan,” Sabuit continues. “She will be an important one to win over. She has a singer’s voice — you’ll understand when she speaks — but she takes security as seriously as the rest of her family. So far, we have not had much to worry about with House T’sylan, but the risk to Aeschira she will take seriously. Again, if we lose her, she would be difficult to swing back. We need to make sure any doubts in security are quickly answered for.
“Jannitra Kilani for House Kilani. Other than yourself, Lady Zola, she will likely be the only one wearing armour in the room. As I understand, she may be instructed to be antagonistic directly towards you, so perhaps she is better left for Larynda or myself to handle where possible. She is distrusting and at least knows the two of us. If she does speak to you directly, just make sure you are on the same page as Lady Larynda — a uniform approach.”
Zola and Larynda exchange a look with each other. Whilst Zola was swaying House Menat through Mavis, Larynda was trying the same with House Kilani, a longtime partner of House Rhomdaen. However, she had returned home rather cheerless; she was concerned that the Kilanis were more aligned with Phaeva personally than the house as a whole, and with the uncertainty of everything, they seemed noncommittal at best.
“And lastly, Drirynna Do’Viir for House Do’Viir. She has a strong voice and will be quite outspoken on whatever is being discussed. Arguably our biggest competitor for trade. I’ve not been able to gauge where they fall on matters right now; we have had some fruitful collaboration in the past, but we cannot ignore how much they stand to gain if we are removed in any shape or form. Apologies for being brief, but we are short of time and Phae— your mother always appreciated me being direct.”
“Thank you, Sabuit. Larynda and I have done as much preparation as we can to swing this conversation our way before it begins. I suppose all that’s left to do now…is to begin it.”
Zola takes a deep breath when they stop before a set of double doors. She looks at Larynda and nods as she places a hand on one door. Larynda puts her own hand on the other door and gives the elder twin a stern look for a moment. “You are kind, Zola. But don’t let them take advantage of that. If you are to act as a joint Matron, do not let them treat you as anything less.”
With that, the two sisters push the doors open together.
The main doors of the council building lead to a grand foyer with several desks currently standing empty. It looks like it would be a busy place normally, but as with any time the Heart’s Head is meeting, activities are put on hold for the day. There is a clerk on hand who welcomes them formally, though there is a hint of familiarity with Sabuit. He leads the three Rhomdaens up a wide staircase to one side of the hall to an upper floor, through another large set of doors, past a few offices and smaller meeting rooms, to a corridor lined with pedestals and display cases showing various items of historic value to Aeschira and a few plaques commemorating key events, all leading to another large ornate set of darkwood doors sealing off the back chamber of the building.
In one swift movement, the clerk opens the doors and steps aside for the three to enter whilst calling out an introduction: “Madam Rhomdaen, accompanying the Lady Larynda Rhomdaen and Lady Zola Rhomdaen.” Then he bows and closes the doors behind them.
In the room is everyone Sabuit had warned Zola to expect, as well as one other: a slight, young man with a nervous disposition accompanying the Gorr representative, diligently taking notes in a black notebook as she speaks. Each of the representatives turn as the Rhomdaens enter and bow to Zola and Larynda before nodding greetings to Sabuit.
“Thank you for coming. Since everyone is here, shall we?” Mizzrym Gorr says, gesturing to a large octagonal table to one side of the chamber, around which are set ornate yet comfortable looking chairs at each side, carved with the symbols of each great house. Where Rhomdaen’s crest is, three chairs have been placed.
One by one, everyone takes their seat. Before the formal proceedings can begin, Sabuit speaks up. “Shall we offer some formal introductions for the Lady Zola’s benefit?”
Mizzrym Gorr is a beautiful woman, possibly middle-aged, wearing an elegant dress with her hair loose and straight. Soft-spoken but confident, she takes the opportunity to be the first to introduce herself, making a point of mentioning that she is second cousin to the Matron Anto Gorr.
Umrala Menat is tall and slender with her hair up in twisting braids, showing off her slender neck and shoulders, making her seem even taller.
Dhautree T’sylan is a stocky woman with an impressive jaw line and a voice that sounds almost musical when she speaks, which feels slightly at odds with how seriously she enunciates her words.
Jannitra Kilani is easily picked out as the muscular woman clad in armour — lighter than Zola’s, but still marking her as being more battle-ready than any of the other representatives. Without prior knowledge of her position, one could easily mistake her as a mere guard.
Drirynna Do’Viir is, by a margin, the most finely dressed in the room, draped in silken robes and adorned with a treasury’s worth of gleaming jewellery. She speaks softly but with a commanding air.
Coranros Ithyr stands and makes a show of bowing as he introduces himself. He is well-dressed and well-groomed, and there is something strained in his voice during his introduction.
Likewise, Antoyn Shanmet stands and bows to Zola when introducing himself, but just as quickly sits back down. He has a sour face and a large frame, though somehow he seems the smallest figure in the room.
With the introductions over, Mizzrym speaks again. “Well… Thank you, Lady Zola, for agreeing to meet with us, and our most gracious thanks to you too, Lady Larynda, for joining us. We are not used to having Matrons join us here and I’m sure everyone will agree we do appreciate you agreeing to meet here. However, for our benefit, might we be formally introduced to you, Lady Zola? We have all heard much, but have yet to have the pleasure ourselves.”
“Of course.” Zola rises, the smile on her face as bright as her armour. “I am Zola Rhomdaen, firstborn daughter of Matron Mother Phaeva and Lord Consort Kelolg, twin sister to Lady Larynda. I was born in Aeschira, but I spent my childhood in the Witching Court and travelled far and wide, including to Faerûn across the sea — where I trained as a sword dancer of Eilistraee — and to the Dawnlands above — where I made my name as an adventurer.”
“Thank you, Lady Zola. It seems you have led an eventful life before coming to Aeschira, and I believe some of that will play into what we would like to discuss. On that , I think it’s best we proceed onto business rather than delay the inevitable. We are all, of course, aware of the events that transpired in the Rhomdaen mansion thanks to the invitations Matron Phaeva issued out, whatever the reasoning behind it. I’m sure I am not alone when I say there are some concerns among our respective Matrons given what we are hearing, but I think we would all benefit from hearing your side as well. Lady Larynda, we do greatly appreciate you joining us, and — if it’s not too much to ask — your own insights may also be invaluable for the other houses too. While on a personal level, I am very sorry to hear that Matron Phaeva is missing, the circumstances of that disappearance are nonetheless a matter of great concern.”
There are a series of nods and murmurs of assent from the gathering. Mizzrym Gorr then turns to her colleagues. “I presume everyone here may have their own questions and concerns specific to their interests and place within the Sprawl, but I would first pose that we allow Lady Zola to tell us, in her own words, what transpired that day.” There is another round of assenting noises, though notably less enthusiastic this time. She looks across the table at Zola. “Lady Zola, could we ask for your account?”
Meanwhile, Larynda is sitting stoic and regal in her chair. Sabuit has been quiet and sitting up straight, but smiles and nods to Zola when the question is asked.
Thus Zola tells her account of the assault on the Rhomdaen mansion one month ago — a speech she has rehearsed over and over with Larynda in the past several days. There are a few odd moments of quiet murmuring from the representatives as they listen.
Once finished, she sits back down, huffing out a small sigh and casting a glance at her relatives. Larynda doesn’t return the look, focusing instead on the table. Sabuit offers a friendly smile and a subtle nod before also turning to study the faces before them, now silent in thought. The air in the room is practically buzzing with unasked questions.
Jannitra Kilani speaks first. “Well, that does tie in quite well with what we all heard, I presume?” Her colleagues respond with quiet agreement.
“It seems as though Phaeva has had everyone deceived this entire time,” says Umrala Menat.
“Well, that is one interpretation, of course,” says Coranros Ithyr. “Forgive me, ladies, but I can’t help but remind everyone this conveniently arose at the same time the so-called ‘lost heir’ returned. She has much to gain here.”
Larynda’s jaw visibly clenches as Sabuit interjects on her behalf, “I would counter that Lady Larynda by far would have the most to lose if that were truly the case, yet she herself has come before you today, has she not?”
“Yes,” Jannitra says. “I do find it interesting that you have chosen to come given the nature of the story, Lady Larynda. I would have expected you to have made an attempt on Zola’s life by now. Is there more to this?”
Larynda’s eyes seem to almost shoot out daggers as they flick from speaker to speaker. “Yes. My— Our mother has been involved in something that threatens the fabric of the Sprawl at its core and, while I am outraged at how the truth has come out, I assure you: had I not seen the facts for myself, I would not have tolerated any line of questioning like this already.”
Jannitra bows her head slightly. “Of course, and I do not mean to offend, Lady Larynda. I merely voice a concern I’m sure many others have thought of themselves.”
“If we may,” Dhautree T’sylan ventures, “what exactly have you seen as evidence? The gem in the room is certainly suspicious, but I note you never mentioned seeing anyone there?”
Sabuit speaks up again. “You mean, of course, besides the strange behaviours the representatives from your own houses witnessed Matron Phaeva performing prior to her vanishing, the needless harm of her own staff, the display of strange powers, and the cries of panic before something took her? There was a room full of witnesses to the event, from how I see things.”
“Well, not to diminish your words, Sabuit, but of course you would see it that way. It is your house we are discussing after all,” says Driryanna Do’Viir. “If that’s the only—”
“No,” is the stern response from Larynda. She looks uncomfortable as she glances around. “There is something else not yet mentioned that should be said.” She takes a breath before regaining some of her composure, putting on an icy front as she resumes speaking, her amber eyes resolute. “My cousins and I were in the room, actively trying to kill Zola and her companions, and despite having ample opportunity, they did not end our lives. Were she really after just power, leaving us alive would only be a detriment to that.”
Mizzrym Gorr nods. “I’d agree with that.”
“Moreover,” Larynda continues. “Even after we had been…incapacitated”—she grits her teeth—“Mother…did something to us. She made us stand and continue fighting, regardless of the damage done to us. I felt something from her I have not felt before, something that animated us beyond our own senses. Mother has made some kind of damned pact with an entity from the Hells, and the gem in her bedroom is just the final nail in the coffin.”
“So she compelled you to continue fighting?” Coranros asks.
“No, whatever it was took control of our reflexes while we were unconscious. It was like watching things unfold from behind a screen.”
“Still, this seems rather suspect given your relation—”
“That’s a stretch, Coranros, and you know it,” Mizzrym interrupts him. “Again, if Lady Larynda were truly involved in such a scheme, it serves her no discernable good to tell us such a thing.”
Zola silently watches Larynda’s face throughout this exchange, her own mouth slightly open. She hadn’t realised that Larynda and her cousins weren’t in control of their bodies when that happened; she’s never heard of this kind of magic before. And how awful it must’ve been for them.
“Fine,” Jannitra says. “Phaeva does seem to have been involved in something the other houses would crush out were she here. But now, I’m curious what exactly you intend by being here, Zola? As far as we would be concerned, were House Rhomdaen to remain standing after this”—she shoots Larynda a brief apologetic look, more function than sincere—“given how the last matter like this unfolded, we would assume Lady Larynda would become Matron. Where exactly do you, an outsider, see yourself here?”
Zola turns to the Kilani representative at the question. “Well, my lady… I may not have returned to Aeschira until recently, but I am not disconnected from drow culture, not in the least. I grew up speaking our tongue, playing our music, reading our poetry, practising our martial arts. My lady sister has been patiently teaching me how things work here, and I admit that I’ve still got a lot to learn! But I am one of you. To be Aeschiran is as much my birthright as it is hers, and there are things I want to do here, people I want to help.”
Jannitra cocks an eyebrow. “Really? Please, tell us how someone who hasn’t lived here can make things better.”
The comment is like a knife thrown across the table. But Zola is undaunted in her reply. “Having an outside perspective is good, sometimes. Fresh ideas. New ways of thinking. House Menat understands that, seeing how they’ve gone through the effort of forging diplomatic relations with Daring Heights — they are wise enough to want to know how different peoples live and work, so they can bring new ideas into Aeschira for everyone’s benefit.”
Jannitra bristles, her armour clanking softly as she shifts. “Wanton change without understanding the nature of things can equally be lethal.”
“Jannitra is right, we have worked long and hard on making sure the connections we make benefit us, not hinder us,” Umrala chimes in. “That said, I have it on good authority that Zola has made a name for herself as a competent warrior and continually strives to help people.”
“Whose authority exactly, my lady?” Coranros says.
Umrala looks down her nose at him. “As I said, we have spent much effort in making sure our connections are solid, Coranros. I would not have mentioned it were it not fact checked.”
“Let us not begin to bicker again, please,” Mizzrym says, raising a palm. “If Umrala says they have fact checked, we will take her at her word, as much as we would any other meeting.”
Zola’s ploy had worked — she’d baited Menat into defending her reputation and the others couldn’t question it without offending Menat in some way. She leans back in her chair, gaze bouncing between each speaker at the table.
“Fine… Apologies, Lady Umrala, I merely wish to make sure we are covering all bases,” Coranros grumbles. “That said, as good as you claim our guest to be, there is still the matter of the question not fully being answered.” He turns back to Zola. “And that is: what do you expect to become here? It’s one thing to claim to wish to help people, but to announce yourself as ‘firstborn’ implies much more. Are you seriously proposing that you become Matron over the Lady Larynda?”
“No, good sir,” she answers. “Larynda and I will be co-Matrons. And that is why the change I bring will not be ‘wanton’, Lady Jannitra, for my sister will be my equal and nothing will go without her say.”
All eyes shift onto Larynda.
“Is this true?” Mizzrym asks, feigning surprise.
Larynda is unmoved by the attention on her, sitting like a queen at the table and speaking like she is setting the minds of her subjects at ease. “Yes. The two of us have spent a long time going over how this will work and, given not only the situation our mother has created but also the void she leaves, a joint approach would prove much more robust a lead for our house and our place in the Sprawl.”
“This is highly unusual,” says Dhautree.
“Of course it is.”
“Two Matrons would still only hold the power of a single seat at the council,” says Coranros.
“Of course it would.”
“The responsibilities of matronhood would be split between the two Ladies Rhomdaen equally, both having final say with a binding agreement between them that one does not act without the other’s input,” Sabuit adds.
“That may prove difficult,” Mizzrym says. “I need not tell you, Lady Larynda, how critical the decisions of the Matron are. What if something arises and your sister is not around to have her input?”
“There will clearly be a bedding-in period, but one of the two of us has already begun.”
“I need not remind you all that the personal affairs, whims, and decisions of the Matrons are not for us to question,” Sabuit says sternly.
“But it is our duty to speak on behalf of our Matrons at this meeting,” Jannitra protests.
“Indeed!” Coranros jumps up to his feet. “Forgive me, esteemed ladies of the Heart’s Head, but this is obscene to consider. An outsider is troublesome, but a splitting of a major house between two, at best, similarly aligned bodies will only serve to weaken us. We should be clear on this — either a single Matron, as with the others, or we consider more decisive action and handle matters ourselves.”
At this, Sabuit raises her voice and it takes on an edge not heard before now, giving her mousey appearance a tinge of something darker. “You would be wise to contain yourself, Coranros. You are potentially speaking of not one but two Matrons right now. We may all speak for our Matrons, but I highly doubt Matron Hyoseer Ithyr would be happy to be involved in some sort of scandalous behaviour.”
Coranros silently fumes in an effort to control his emotions before slinking back into his chair. “Of course, Lady Sabuit. My ladies, forgive me. I am only guilty of caring…”
“May the gods bless those who are,” Zola replies with a nod.
Coranros smiles and nods back, but it’s plain to see that it’s an uncomfortable gesture for him.
Mizzrym eyes up Sabuit and glances at Coranros for a moment. “Indeed, let us not forget who we are speaking to. As yet, no decision by our Matrons has been made, so we should consider them as they are. The matter of the house being run by two Matrons is not for us to squabble over. However, to better allow us to report to our respective Matrons, Lady Larynda, Lady Zola, could I ask how you foresee this arrangement working? Lady Larynda is known to us, but other than Lady Umrala Menat, the rest of us are strangers to you, Lady Zola.”
Jannitra clanks as she puts her hands on the table. “Indeed. What exactly do you think you could bring to the Sprawl? You have spent much time on the surface and…the Witching Court? I cannot help but think their ways differ greatly from ours.”
Zola turns to Larynda and Sabuit with an inquisitive look: Should we be open, or should we keep our plans to ourselves?
Sabuit catches the glance quickly. “Lady Mizzrym, surely you don’t expect them to divulge the nature of their plans for the house?”
“No, of course not. Lady Larynda is known to us. She is a priestess of Lolth, knows her way around the city’s complex streets and its even more enigmatic politics. I have no doubt that she is of her own mind and I do not wish to question that in any way, nor do I intend to pry into the mind of Lady Zola — I merely ask what she considers to be her basis for being able to lead a house.” Mizzrym raises her hands defensively. “Not in reference to her bloodline, only in terms of her skill. By all accounts, she sounds to us like a warrior — a holy warrior of Eilistraee, no less, something that I cannot help but think may conflict with Lady Larynda’s beliefs and ethos. I would merely like to be able to face my own Matron and answer her questions on how you imagine this will work.”
“That will be for us to manage, Mizzrym,” Larynda says. “But in the interest of abating your Matron’s questions: our combined experience and skill will provide far more coverage of our house’s affairs than you will need to consider. We will act as one and we will be the arbiters of that.”
“Indeed,” Zola chimes in. “And as for my being a stranger to you all — don’t worry, I have no intention of sequestering myself in the high halls that our parents have built. In time, you will know me.”
These answers seem to resonate with Mizzrym, Umrala, and Dhautree. The Gorr representative nods. “Very well, We, of course, have no say over how you manage your internal affairs. Forgive me for asking.”
Jannitra pipes up again. “There are, however, more pressing matters we will need some answers on — namely the situation Matron Phaeva has left us in.”
Drirynna’s jewellery softly clinks as she shifts. “Yes, let’s start with that. Where exactly is she?”
“We don’t know yet, to be honest…” Zola says. “There’s reason to believe that she and our father Kelolg are trapped in some kind of demiplane. We’re still looking for the entity responsible for all this trouble.”
Mizzrym quickly replies, “The entity responsible we shall come back to, but before we move on, is there anything you can shed for us? Kelolg and Matron Phaeva are missing and we do not know where. Do we know anything of their condition? Are they expected alive? How might they be found or how might we begin finding them?”
“Do we want to find them?” Jannitra adds in a grave tone.
There is a tense pause as the Heart’s Head considers the question.
“We do want to find them,” Zola says, low and quiet. “We have questions of our own that they need to answer. Both of us.”
“But what happens in the event they are found?” Umrala asks. “What do you intend to do once you have your answers?”
“I highly doubt Matron Phaeva will be happy to simply relinquish control of the house to the two of you. Especially to you, Lady Zola, given the nature of things,” says Jannitra.
Sabuit interjects again: “The ladies of House Rhomdaen will see to Matron Phaeva and Kelolg. Suffice to say, they will not be permitted to return to the position of leading the house.”
Larynda nods but says nothing.
“That’s not to say that Matron Phaeva will be happy with that arrangement. What would you propose if she were to resist?” enquires Mizzrym.
“With all due respect, my lords and ladies, that is for me and Larynda to decide, and no one else,” says Zola. After a beat, she resumes, “However, I’d like to assure everyone that in taking the mantle of leadership from Matron Phaeva, we have no wish to rock the boat, so to speak. House Rhomdaen will not go back on any oaths or alliances, nor will we forget any harm done to us.”
Sabuit seems happy with that response, but Mizzrym doesn’t look wholly satisfied. “Of course, but please do remember that the other Matrons may have an opinion on such a matter,” Mizzrym says. “I can think of at least a few who would want her dead, or at least banished from the Sprawl for good.”
Jannitra Kilani nods along with the others, though the notion seems to make her tense.
“Very well,” says Umrala. “If the matter of Matron Phaeva is to be left, at least for now, to the House of Rhomdaen, then let’s move on to the next concern: the entity behind all this.”
Jinnatra leans forward. “Yes. Who and what exactly are they?”
“As my lady sister mentioned before, Phaeva had made a deal with a devil,” Zola replies. “His name is Zarzuul.”
She pauses to let the others fill in before Jannitra can needle her again. Larynda follows up immediately. “Zarzuul has his eyes set on gaining influence in Aeschira for an unknown reason, something he has been managing through his agent Tebrin Zoland and our mother. However, Mother kept this arrangement from the rest of the family until the end. None of this was known by my cousins or myself until Zola brought out the truth.”
“Matron Phaeva was known for being secretive and handling some matters directly, as I’m sure you are aware,” Sabuit adds seamlessly, glancing at Jannitra. “And while we don’t know the nature of this Zarzuul’s plans, I think it’s safe to assume his incursion here is something we are all striving to prevent.”
“Is the intention to simply stop his incursion, or to eliminate him?” comes the surprising response from the so far silent Antoyn Shanmet. “Stopping the incursion is, of course, the aim. But we should be cautious of inviting more attention if we try to declare all-out war.”
“To be frank, my lord, I see no way of stopping his meddling other than killing him,” Zola says. “The responsibility shall fall unto me. Wouldn’t be my first time slaying a devil.”
Both Larynda and Sabuit give her an encouraging look.
Jannitra does bite, though. “Good. I do not forget, however, that Lady Larynda mentioned not knowing any of this. How exactly have you come about all of this knowledge, Lady Zola? We cannot ignore the news of your relationship with this Tebrin, after all…”
She gives a sigh. “Yes, it was partly through Tebrin and partly through my adoptive mothers that I found out about Zarzuul. However, neither of them were at liberty to speak much about him — they’re all sworn to silence by the strictest terms of an infernal contract. That’s why there’s still a lot we don’t know.”
Mizzrym sits up straight. “About Tebrin — what is his part in this? By the sound of things, he is a pawn of Zarzuul. Yet to let things slip and lead to this outcome… Seems like there is more to his actions. He may not speak on Zarzuul, but what do we know of him and his intentions?”
Zola shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “You may as well be the one enlightening us on that matter, Lady Mizzrym. As I understand it, Tebrin had connections with your house, didn’t he? For all the time we spent together, he kept his plans close to his chest.”
Sabuit gives a little pained sigh at the wording of the question. Mizzrym herself tenses up and develops a slight frown, and she speaks now with a slight edge. “‘Connections’ is a strong word…” She looks around the room at everyone eyeing her, in particular Coranros. “We had Tebrin make contact with us some time ago trying to secure security work with us following some…issues with another supplier we had. He has been kept at a distance, however, due to some concerns about his conveniently timed approach. I, personally, have tried making contact since the events at the Rhomadaen mansion in the hopes of flushing him out and cleaning up the mess your house has made, but he has decidedly evaded our invitations.”
Jannitra is quick to jump on this, and her tone is decidedly antagonistic. “Indeed, there is only one present who has been so immensely connected with this interloper. Is there really no other detail you can offer? No sweet nothings shared?”
Sabuit sits forward. “Remember, you are talking to one of the intended Matrons of House Rhomdaen, Jannitra. Your affiliations with Phaeva are known to—”
“My affiliations?”
Sabuit raises a hand and continues, “Your affiliations — in that you worked closely with Matron Phaeva, not insinuating anything further — does not mean you need to treat Lady Zola so icily… And I assure you, Lady Mizzrym, from my conversations with Lady Zola, she only meant to suggest knowledge that Tebrin had reached out to you, not that you or your family had a running arrangement. As she has clearly stated, she was not privy to all his motives and agenda.”
The room grows quiet and palpably uncomfortable before Dhautree breaks the silence. “Tebrin’s motives aside, what is the plan for the invader in our midst? Surely, as one of the more intricately woven threads of this scheme, he needs to be eliminated?”
All heads in the room nod in agreement. Mizzrym particularly.
Zola silently prays they do not see the muscle flexing in her jaw. She tries to exude a steely look in her eye and a coolness in her voice, hiding her clenching fists under the table. “He, too, shall be removed.”
Mizzrym, Coranros, and Dhautree take a moment to exchange strange looks with one another.
…Oh, this is bad.
“Good. I’m glad we can agree on that, at least,” Mizzrym says slowly.
“Indeed,” Coranros says, equally slowly, as he turns back to Zola. “So, what of your adoptive mothers, Lady Zola? What are your intentions with them? They are not of Aeschira at all, seem to have been involved from the beginning, and likely have their own agenda. Do you intend for them to join you in the city?”
“No, their home is in the Witching Court. That’s where they’ll return to.”
“Are we sure there isn’t anyone else involved? The last thing we need is another player making themselves known,” says Driryanna.
“Not that we know of.”
She looks at Larynda next. “Apologies, my ladies, for asking the painful question, but we must: Lady Larynda, are you satisfied that Lady Zola is not some kind of double agent aligned with Tebrin or this Zarzuul?”
Larynda looks incensed, but Sabuit jumps in. “Again, the Ladies Rhomdaen have had much time to go over what has happened and what they intend to do. You all know she is far from some impressionable young girl who does not know her mind. She would not be here, were that the case.”
“True enough. Then I instead pose the same question to Lady Zola: are you satisfied? You seek to place yourself in a powerful yet dangerous position, after all.”
“Am I satisfied?” Zola echoes the question disbelievingly. She scoffs and shakes her head. “Lady Do’Viir. I have, as my inheritance, one of the highest offices in this land. I have a sister now, and cousins who might as well be my brothers. Why in the world would I throw all that away for, what, a devil who would trap me in a contract anyway? I am not an adherent of Lolth. I do not believe in killing my kin just to gain more power. You ask me what I want? I want peace. I want justice. I am not my mother and I am not Tebrin — I do not want power for power’s sake.”
Driryanna studies her intently as she speaks, but she doesn’t get a chance to reply as Dhautree beats her to it. “Very well. Then, with your unique position of recently gaining all this, how would you suppose we prevent this kind of fiasco happening again? I’m not so cruel as to suggest you solve this now. The Matrons and Heart’s Head will no doubt work on this with some serious concern moving forward, but where would you begin?”
Zola gives an exasperated sigh. “I think we need to start asking ourselves why so many of our people feel the need to make deals with fiends. Our parents… They were poor. They had a hard life and all they wanted, at first, was to not have to struggle every day — something most of us here, including myself, are lucky enough to not understand. The Church of Lolth teaches that you must use any means necessary to climb to the top, so when a chance presented itself to them in the form of Zarzuul, why wouldn’t they take it? That’s probably what the Matron of House Shanmet was thinking too.” She glances at Antoyn, a sympathetic look in her eye. “I can’t imagine that she entered into a pact with a nasty mushroom demon out of anything but desperation. But the thing is, there is always another way. And we, we the people in charge of this country, can show them. We can help them.”
Antoyn catches her eye. “I cannot condone nor answer for the mistakes my family has made in the past, but I do thank you for your kindness, Lady Zola. Whatever their reasoning, I agree — if we work together in the interest of the Sprawl, we can surely prevent such a catastrophe from happening again. Also, if I may say: though House Shanmet has suffered the consequences of its actions, I, for one, would prefer we do not further imbalance the power structure we hold here by demolishing another house. If we can aid in correcting this matter, we should seek to be of one mind in doing so.”
Jannitra turns to him. “Those are pretty but easy words for you. Your house will not be the one putting their lives on the line if these devils do come for us.”
Antoyn bows his head but answers confidently regardless. “No, we do not have an army like the other houses. But our lives and wellbeing are tied to the city same as yours, and we share in its losses.”
Mizzrym ends the diversion. “We have already decided on a united front regardless. The question remains of what that front is, which was the point of this meeting. Let’s not waste anyone’s time by rehashing this.”
“Quite,” Umrala says. “It seems to me that the pertinent question is: what is going to be done now?”
“Precisely. We have a Matron missing, a literal devil amongst us, and a looming threat, all tied to House Rhomdaen. I assure you, Lady Larynda and Lady Zola, my own Matron and no doubt the others as well have already considered simply dealing with this matter ourselves… However, as Antoyn has stated, we are aware of how much of a ripple such drastic action may have. We cannot speak for the decisions of our Matrons, but they will be looking to us for answers.”
“What exactly is your plan for correcting this, and where will the lines lie once you are done?”
Zola closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Like Larynda, she tires of this unending questioning. Silence simmers in the air for a long moment, punctuated by the faint tolling of the Heart Bell.
“Twenty seconds.”
Everyone in the room gives her a bemused look.
“Twenty seconds,” she repeats. “That’s how long it took for me and four companions to end the war that House Rhomdaen declared on me. And don’t get me wrong, my kin were formidable. You are right to doubt me for my lack of experience, but anyone who doubts my skill in the sword arts shall do so at their own peril.” She opens her eyes and there is a crusader’s zeal burning in her golden-amber gaze. “When I am done with Zarzuul, there will be no more of his ilk left to trouble us ever again. Every devil in the Nine Hells will fear the name Rhomdaen and the bite of Aeschiran steel.”
The representatives are visibly taken aback at the change in Zola’s demeanour. Jannitra begins to look at her a little differently, like she sees something that maybe she didn’t before.
After a moment, Umrala speaks up. “Noble as a proclamation that is, I know my own Matron will have other questions, and I’m afraid my words alone will not convey the passion with which you speak, so let’s make this simple… You aim to take the fight to Zarzuul directly?”
“To kill Tebrin Zoland?” says Coranros.
“And return to Aeschira as joint Matrons for House Rhomdaen?” says Mizzrym.
“And release your adoptive mothers…” says Sabuit. She looks at the rest of the table. “The hags may not be of Aeschira, but let us not think little of the weight a personal vendetta can hold.”
All eyes around the table are staring at Zola and Larynda.
Larynda’s answer is simple and powerful; she speaks with purpose and conviction in a tone that offers no contest. “Yes.”
“Yes,” Zola echoes her twin.
That single word hangs heavy in the air as the council of Heart’s Head sits studying the two sisters. After a moment, Mizzrym glances at the others, who all return the look in kind.
Sensing a change in the room, Sabuit turns to Larynda, who only nods, before looking at Zola. “Do you have anything you wish to raise?”
“Nothing else. Thank you.”
“Excellent,” is the cool response from Mizzrym from across the table. She leans back into her chair and gives a slight smile, one that is simultaneously whimsical and drenched in venom. “Then I think we should retire. We do look forward to the forthcoming updates, Sabuit, and whether we do need to intervene… But for now, I think we have taken up enough of our guests’ precious time. Matrons Rhomdaen — thank you, again, for coming.”
Zola’s eyebrows jump up into her hairline. Did I hear her right? Did she just call us—?
“Well— Er— You’re welcome!” she exclaims, looking excitedly between Larynda and Sabuit.
Everyone begins rising from their seats, but before they can disperse and return to their respective mansions, Zola walks hastily over to Antoyn Shanmet. She clasps his hand in hers, gazing into his eyes.
“Thank you, and I’m sorry about your family.”
He smiles a little awkwardly and bows his head. “Thank you, Matron… But you need not offer your sympathy. We have paid the price for our actions. I merely hope to stop others from making the same mistake.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Coranros lingering at the doorway, watching the two of them. Larynda, with Sabuit behind her, taps Zola on the shoulder and quietly says, “We should go.”
She nods. The three Rhomdaens take their leave, two of them walking out as Matron Mothers.
As the carriage door shuts and the driders begin to skitter forward, Sabuit lets out a sigh like she was holding her breath.
“Was that…okay?” Zola asks.
“Yes, I think so. The Heart’s Head seems to have recognised you both as Matrons now, which was part of the aim… You will both need to deliver on your promise of resolving matters for them to truly honour that, however. Coranros Ithyr seems to have a poor opinion of us, but you were never going to truly win him over today anyway. Whatever work the two of you have put in with Umrala Menat and Jannitra Kilani has certainly paid off. I know it seems that Jannitra in particular was dogging you, Zola, but I’m positive that had Larynda not intervened before the meeting, it would’ve been much worse. Drirynna Do’Viir seems largely on board with us, but we cannot ignore the market competition we have with them; they are a fickle ally at best. Dhautree T’sylan is likely still wary of the change, but you don’t appear to have given her anything to latch onto, at least. And, well, Anotyn Shanmet seems to have taken a liking to you; whether that helps us or not is another matter.
“You, Zola, will definitely need to learn to mind how you word certain comments, especially when meeting with the other Matrons. I won’t be there to intercept for those and you mightily upset Mizzrym with your question — I doubt that will reflect well on how she reports to Matron Anto Gorr, but at least she is not outwardly advocating against us right now. And Larynda, you need to control your temper. I understand you may not like speaking with the representatives nor enjoy their questioning, but they are reporting to the other Matrons, remember? This will be their first impression of you both as Matrons.”
Larynda gives Sabuit an icy look but says nothing, knowing that their cousin is, of course, right.
“Sorry,” Zola says sheepishly. “Tebrin is a…touchy topic for me, as you might imagine. Erm, ‘touchy’ might not have been the right word to use for that…”
Sabuit chuckles. “Otherwise…” She looks out the window, considering things for a moment. “I actually think it went well. You showed them what they know, Larynda — the familiarity of dealing with a Rhomdaen who knows the city, its workings and social norms, and the forceful nature they would expect of a Matron. While you showed them some kindness, Zola. It may well be worth leaning into those facets: the hand that feeds and the hand that punishes. Don’t mistake me, of course — it was equally important for you to show you are not a pushover, Zola, but the display between the two of you has certainly given them something to think about.”
Larynda, staring out the window, asks in a clipped tone, “Where are you staying now, Sabuit?”
“An apartment in Coldside.”
“Pack up when you get home.”
Sabuit looks concerned for a moment.
“I’ll have Molgar clear out one of the family houses for you. We need you comfortable and rested if you are going to continue fending off those vultures.”
“Sheesh, don’t scare Cousin Sabuit like that!” Zola gently chides her sister, before flashing a big grin and wrapping her arms around Larynda’s shoulders. “Gods, we really did it, didn’t we?”
Larynda’s body is still taut with tension, but she does crack a small smile at that. “There is still much to sort out, Zola. They were just the hands of the houses. We still have the other Matrons to worry about…and the matter of dealing with Zarzuul. Kekoph and Vorn are still working on getting the door open for us, but we need to be ready when it is. We may not have another opportunity.”
“Of course, of course. But can we celebrate becoming Matrons just a little bit? Pleeeaaase?”
“Being a Matron is a responsibility, Zola, not a birthday we can celebrate.” She looks back out the window again at the streets speeding past. “But I suppose we can take a moment for a bit of fun.”
Sabuit nudges Zola to signify the win. Zola punches a fist into the air and cheers and laughs, throwing an arm around Sabuit’s neck.
“…Wait, what do you do for fun around here?”
“There’s a spa resort near the Stolp. It’s not too far from here.” Larynda opens a sliding window in the front of the carriage and tells the driders of their new destination.
“I love it!” Zola exclaims. “Should we take the boys with us?”
“No.”
“Okay!”
And that was that.
Co-written with Anthony
Ten days later.
When Zola knocks on and opens the door to her sister’s bedroom, Larynda has just finished being dressed by her handmaids, wearing her long hair down and a lovely white dress that exposes her midriff.
Zola gestures at herself, outfitted in her usual suit of adamantine plate though with a small addition: a target on her left pauldron emblazoned with the starcross of House Rhomdaen. “Is this okay?” she asks.
Larynda turns to look at her and grimaces. She raises a hand, about to order one of the handmaids to fetch a spare dress from the wardrobe, but then she stops. “Yes, it’s fine. Let them see you as you are, how you are confident, not what you think they want to see.”
Zola smiles. “Well, this is me. This has always been me. But we should totally go dress shopping together sometime!” She goes to link arms with Larynda as they proceed out the room and down the stairs.
There is a look of bemusement at the comment. “Shopping? Zola, we have our dresses custom-made.”
“Well, we need inspiration for what we tell our tailors to make, right?”
“I suppose… But we should be setting the standard. Our trip should inspire those to be like us.”
“Huh, yeah. I guess we are fashion icons simply by virtue of being Matrons. Cool!”
Larynda gives another bemused look at the use of the word “cool”, but makes no remark.
A drider-pulled carriage is already waiting for them outside, a mode of transport reserved for the special armed forces and Matron Mothers who wish to make a statement. Zola is still uncomfortable with the idea of people — who have been cursed by Lolth, no less — doing a job meant for beasts of burden, but… When in Aeschira, do as the Aeschirans do, I guess.
Once they are both seated within, Larynda raps her fist on the ceiling of the carriage and it begins moving, rolling slowly away from Molgar, Kekoph, and Vorn in front of the mansion gates. They are headed for the council building in the city centre. Larynda had explained that there are two chambers in this building: the Web’s Compass, a general council in which every noble house has a seat, and the Heart’s Head, a council of the representatives of the great houses and where things actually get done.
They’d received an invitation to meet in the Heart’s Head, but Larynda isn’t happy about this. She told Zola that there was a third location, some secret place in strictly neutral grounds where the great matrons gather. To have been called to the Heart’s Head instead, despite being the legitimate heirs of House Rhomdaen, is something of a snub.
Personally, Zola is just glad they want to speak to her at all, given the shitstorm she’s caused.
The carriage stops outside a large and ornate stalagmite building. As the twin sisters step off, a woman in formal attire with the crest of House Rhomdaen sewn on greets them both with a slight bow — Sabuit Rhomdaen, another first cousin from their mother’s side and their official representative at the Heart’s Head, the house’s mouthpiece in the council. She is a bespectacled woman with a bob cut that frames her face, and Zola recognises the family resemblance in her features immediately.
“Cousin Sabuit, very pleased to meet you. I’m Zola. So, what should we expect today?”
“My pleasure, Lady Zola. I know you are new to our city, so do you have much knowledge of what to expect in general?” Sabuit glances at Larynda, who chimes in with, “Start at the beginning.”
“Very well,” she says as she leads them into the building. “We will be meeting with the official representatives of the different houses in the Heart’s Head. Normally, this is the kind of thing I would handle for you, but…given the recent developments, you will also be involved. Each of the major houses have their own representatives in attendance today; besides us, there will be:
“Mizzrym Gorr for House Gorr. She is very softly spoken, but she knows the position her family holds in the city, so do not mistake her for a pushover. She will likely try to be fair, but if she begins leaning against you, she would be hard to sway back.
“Coranros Ithyr for House Ithyr. One of the two men in the council. Another quiet but respectful character, but he can be quite forceful with his arguments. There was some chatter among the other representatives when he took the position a few years ago, being a man, but he’s generally accepted now as the representative for House Ithyr.”
Larynda stops Sabuit there. “Zola has informed me of something quite interesting regarding Matron Hyoseer Ithyr. I doubt Coranros will be pleasant with us, but we have something we can allude to to make him back off if need be.”
Sabuit looks surprised. “Truly? Well, all the better then. He was one I was going to warn you of, Zola. If you do feel the need to bring it up, though, do be careful and tactful. Playing your hand too early will lessen its effect and too late may seem desperate. If you wish, I can keep an eye on him and make that play for you?”
“Yes, please. I defer to your expertise,” Zola says and discreetly passes a tiny roll of parchment to Sabuit. She had written upon it the full account of what she had witnessed in the tomb of Egwynir the Wordweaver 8 months ago, the embarrassment the Ithyrs had subjected themselves to.
Sabuit scans the parchment’s contents rapidly before slipping it into her robe, secure and hidden. “Excellent.”
“We’re relying on you to keep Coranros in check with this information, Sabuit,” says Larynda. “And it goes without saying that you should keep this information close to your chest.”
“Of course.”
“Right. So who else will be there?”
“The other man in the room is Antoyn Shanmet, for the broken House of Shanmet. He doesn’t really have much weight behind him, of course, so I wouldn’t worry too much about any opposition from him.
“Umrala Menat for House Menat. You will know her for the way she wears her hair up all the time and air of self importance. I’ve already spoken with her and understand your mutual connection — Mavis Thovian has made a case for you. She seems inclined to hear you both out, so at the very least, tolerate her. You don’t want to undo anything Mavis has done already.”
Zola gives a vigorous nod. She had spent much of the last tenday petitioning the Ambassador from Daring Heights to speak of her illustrious adventuring record to House Menat. It seems her efforts are paying off.
“Dhautree T’sylan for House T’sylan,” Sabuit continues. “She will be an important one to win over. She has a singer’s voice — you’ll understand when she speaks — but she takes security as seriously as the rest of her family. So far, we have not had much to worry about with House T’sylan, but the risk to Aeschira she will take seriously. Again, if we lose her, she would be difficult to swing back. We need to make sure any doubts in security are quickly answered for.
“Jannitra Kilani for House Kilani. Other than yourself, Lady Zola, she will likely be the only one wearing armour in the room. As I understand, she may be instructed to be antagonistic directly towards you, so perhaps she is better left for Larynda or myself to handle where possible. She is distrusting and at least knows the two of us. If she does speak to you directly, just make sure you are on the same page as Lady Larynda — a uniform approach.”
Zola and Larynda exchange a look with each other. Whilst Zola was swaying House Menat through Mavis, Larynda was trying the same with House Kilani, a longtime partner of House Rhomdaen. However, she had returned home rather cheerless; she was concerned that the Kilanis were more aligned with Phaeva personally than the house as a whole, and with the uncertainty of everything, they seemed noncommittal at best.
“And lastly, Drirynna Do’Viir for House Do’Viir. She has a strong voice and will be quite outspoken on whatever is being discussed. Arguably our biggest competitor for trade. I’ve not been able to gauge where they fall on matters right now; we have had some fruitful collaboration in the past, but we cannot ignore how much they stand to gain if we are removed in any shape or form. Apologies for being brief, but we are short of time and Phae— your mother always appreciated me being direct.”
“Thank you, Sabuit. Larynda and I have done as much preparation as we can to swing this conversation our way before it begins. I suppose all that’s left to do now…is to begin it.”
Zola takes a deep breath when they stop before a set of double doors. She looks at Larynda and nods as she places a hand on one door. Larynda puts her own hand on the other door and gives the elder twin a stern look for a moment. “You are kind, Zola. But don’t let them take advantage of that. If you are to act as a joint Matron, do not let them treat you as anything less.”
With that, the two sisters push the doors open together.
The main doors of the council building lead to a grand foyer with several desks currently standing empty. It looks like it would be a busy place normally, but as with any time the Heart’s Head is meeting, activities are put on hold for the day. There is a clerk on hand who welcomes them formally, though there is a hint of familiarity with Sabuit. He leads the three Rhomdaens up a wide staircase to one side of the hall to an upper floor, through another large set of doors, past a few offices and smaller meeting rooms, to a corridor lined with pedestals and display cases showing various items of historic value to Aeschira and a few plaques commemorating key events, all leading to another large ornate set of darkwood doors sealing off the back chamber of the building.
In one swift movement, the clerk opens the doors and steps aside for the three to enter whilst calling out an introduction: “Madam Rhomdaen, accompanying the Lady Larynda Rhomdaen and Lady Zola Rhomdaen.” Then he bows and closes the doors behind them.
In the room is everyone Sabuit had warned Zola to expect, as well as one other: a slight, young man with a nervous disposition accompanying the Gorr representative, diligently taking notes in a black notebook as she speaks. Each of the representatives turn as the Rhomdaens enter and bow to Zola and Larynda before nodding greetings to Sabuit.
“Thank you for coming. Since everyone is here, shall we?” Mizzrym Gorr says, gesturing to a large octagonal table to one side of the chamber, around which are set ornate yet comfortable looking chairs at each side, carved with the symbols of each great house. Where Rhomdaen’s crest is, three chairs have been placed.
One by one, everyone takes their seat. Before the formal proceedings can begin, Sabuit speaks up. “Shall we offer some formal introductions for the Lady Zola’s benefit?”
Mizzrym Gorr is a beautiful woman, possibly middle-aged, wearing an elegant dress with her hair loose and straight. Soft-spoken but confident, she takes the opportunity to be the first to introduce herself, making a point of mentioning that she is second cousin to the Matron Anto Gorr.
Umrala Menat is tall and slender with her hair up in twisting braids, showing off her slender neck and shoulders, making her seem even taller.
Dhautree T’sylan is a stocky woman with an impressive jaw line and a voice that sounds almost musical when she speaks, which feels slightly at odds with how seriously she enunciates her words.
Jannitra Kilani is easily picked out as the muscular woman clad in armour — lighter than Zola’s, but still marking her as being more battle-ready than any of the other representatives. Without prior knowledge of her position, one could easily mistake her as a mere guard.
Drirynna Do’Viir is, by a margin, the most finely dressed in the room, draped in silken robes and adorned with a treasury’s worth of gleaming jewellery. She speaks softly but with a commanding air.
Coranros Ithyr stands and makes a show of bowing as he introduces himself. He is well-dressed and well-groomed, and there is something strained in his voice during his introduction.
Likewise, Antoyn Shanmet stands and bows to Zola when introducing himself, but just as quickly sits back down. He has a sour face and a large frame, though somehow he seems the smallest figure in the room.
With the introductions over, Mizzrym speaks again. “Well… Thank you, Lady Zola, for agreeing to meet with us, and our most gracious thanks to you too, Lady Larynda, for joining us. We are not used to having Matrons join us here and I’m sure everyone will agree we do appreciate you agreeing to meet here. However, for our benefit, might we be formally introduced to you, Lady Zola? We have all heard much, but have yet to have the pleasure ourselves.”
“Of course.” Zola rises, the smile on her face as bright as her armour. “I am Zola Rhomdaen, firstborn daughter of Matron Mother Phaeva and Lord Consort Kelolg, twin sister to Lady Larynda. I was born in Aeschira, but I spent my childhood in the Witching Court and travelled far and wide, including to Faerûn across the sea — where I trained as a sword dancer of Eilistraee — and to the Dawnlands above — where I made my name as an adventurer.”
“Thank you, Lady Zola. It seems you have led an eventful life before coming to Aeschira, and I believe some of that will play into what we would like to discuss. On that , I think it’s best we proceed onto business rather than delay the inevitable. We are all, of course, aware of the events that transpired in the Rhomdaen mansion thanks to the invitations Matron Phaeva issued out, whatever the reasoning behind it. I’m sure I am not alone when I say there are some concerns among our respective Matrons given what we are hearing, but I think we would all benefit from hearing your side as well. Lady Larynda, we do greatly appreciate you joining us, and — if it’s not too much to ask — your own insights may also be invaluable for the other houses too. While on a personal level, I am very sorry to hear that Matron Phaeva is missing, the circumstances of that disappearance are nonetheless a matter of great concern.”
There are a series of nods and murmurs of assent from the gathering. Mizzrym Gorr then turns to her colleagues. “I presume everyone here may have their own questions and concerns specific to their interests and place within the Sprawl, but I would first pose that we allow Lady Zola to tell us, in her own words, what transpired that day.” There is another round of assenting noises, though notably less enthusiastic this time. She looks across the table at Zola. “Lady Zola, could we ask for your account?”
Meanwhile, Larynda is sitting stoic and regal in her chair. Sabuit has been quiet and sitting up straight, but smiles and nods to Zola when the question is asked.
Thus Zola tells her account of the assault on the Rhomdaen mansion one month ago — a speech she has rehearsed over and over with Larynda in the past several days. There are a few odd moments of quiet murmuring from the representatives as they listen.
Once finished, she sits back down, huffing out a small sigh and casting a glance at her relatives. Larynda doesn’t return the look, focusing instead on the table. Sabuit offers a friendly smile and a subtle nod before also turning to study the faces before them, now silent in thought. The air in the room is practically buzzing with unasked questions.
Jannitra Kilani speaks first. “Well, that does tie in quite well with what we all heard, I presume?” Her colleagues respond with quiet agreement.
“It seems as though Phaeva has had everyone deceived this entire time,” says Umrala Menat.
“Well, that is one interpretation, of course,” says Coranros Ithyr. “Forgive me, ladies, but I can’t help but remind everyone this conveniently arose at the same time the so-called ‘lost heir’ returned. She has much to gain here.”
Larynda’s jaw visibly clenches as Sabuit interjects on her behalf, “I would counter that Lady Larynda by far would have the most to lose if that were truly the case, yet she herself has come before you today, has she not?”
“Yes,” Jannitra says. “I do find it interesting that you have chosen to come given the nature of the story, Lady Larynda. I would have expected you to have made an attempt on Zola’s life by now. Is there more to this?”
Larynda’s eyes seem to almost shoot out daggers as they flick from speaker to speaker. “Yes. My— Our mother has been involved in something that threatens the fabric of the Sprawl at its core and, while I am outraged at how the truth has come out, I assure you: had I not seen the facts for myself, I would not have tolerated any line of questioning like this already.”
Jannitra bows her head slightly. “Of course, and I do not mean to offend, Lady Larynda. I merely voice a concern I’m sure many others have thought of themselves.”
“If we may,” Dhautree T’sylan ventures, “what exactly have you seen as evidence? The gem in the room is certainly suspicious, but I note you never mentioned seeing anyone there?”
Sabuit speaks up again. “You mean, of course, besides the strange behaviours the representatives from your own houses witnessed Matron Phaeva performing prior to her vanishing, the needless harm of her own staff, the display of strange powers, and the cries of panic before something took her? There was a room full of witnesses to the event, from how I see things.”
“Well, not to diminish your words, Sabuit, but of course you would see it that way. It is your house we are discussing after all,” says Driryanna Do’Viir. “If that’s the only—”
“No,” is the stern response from Larynda. She looks uncomfortable as she glances around. “There is something else not yet mentioned that should be said.” She takes a breath before regaining some of her composure, putting on an icy front as she resumes speaking, her amber eyes resolute. “My cousins and I were in the room, actively trying to kill Zola and her companions, and despite having ample opportunity, they did not end our lives. Were she really after just power, leaving us alive would only be a detriment to that.”
Mizzrym Gorr nods. “I’d agree with that.”
“Moreover,” Larynda continues. “Even after we had been…incapacitated”—she grits her teeth—“Mother…did something to us. She made us stand and continue fighting, regardless of the damage done to us. I felt something from her I have not felt before, something that animated us beyond our own senses. Mother has made some kind of damned pact with an entity from the Hells, and the gem in her bedroom is just the final nail in the coffin.”
“So she compelled you to continue fighting?” Coranros asks.
“No, whatever it was took control of our reflexes while we were unconscious. It was like watching things unfold from behind a screen.”
“Still, this seems rather suspect given your relation—”
“That’s a stretch, Coranros, and you know it,” Mizzrym interrupts him. “Again, if Lady Larynda were truly involved in such a scheme, it serves her no discernable good to tell us such a thing.”
Zola silently watches Larynda’s face throughout this exchange, her own mouth slightly open. She hadn’t realised that Larynda and her cousins weren’t in control of their bodies when that happened; she’s never heard of this kind of magic before. And how awful it must’ve been for them.
“Fine,” Jannitra says. “Phaeva does seem to have been involved in something the other houses would crush out were she here. But now, I’m curious what exactly you intend by being here, Zola? As far as we would be concerned, were House Rhomdaen to remain standing after this”—she shoots Larynda a brief apologetic look, more function than sincere—“given how the last matter like this unfolded, we would assume Lady Larynda would become Matron. Where exactly do you, an outsider, see yourself here?”
Zola turns to the Kilani representative at the question. “Well, my lady… I may not have returned to Aeschira until recently, but I am not disconnected from drow culture, not in the least. I grew up speaking our tongue, playing our music, reading our poetry, practising our martial arts. My lady sister has been patiently teaching me how things work here, and I admit that I’ve still got a lot to learn! But I am one of you. To be Aeschiran is as much my birthright as it is hers, and there are things I want to do here, people I want to help.”
Jannitra cocks an eyebrow. “Really? Please, tell us how someone who hasn’t lived here can make things better.”
The comment is like a knife thrown across the table. But Zola is undaunted in her reply. “Having an outside perspective is good, sometimes. Fresh ideas. New ways of thinking. House Menat understands that, seeing how they’ve gone through the effort of forging diplomatic relations with Daring Heights — they are wise enough to want to know how different peoples live and work, so they can bring new ideas into Aeschira for everyone’s benefit.”
Jannitra bristles, her armour clanking softly as she shifts. “Wanton change without understanding the nature of things can equally be lethal.”
“Jannitra is right, we have worked long and hard on making sure the connections we make benefit us, not hinder us,” Umrala chimes in. “That said, I have it on good authority that Zola has made a name for herself as a competent warrior and continually strives to help people.”
“Whose authority exactly, my lady?” Coranros says.
Umrala looks down her nose at him. “As I said, we have spent much effort in making sure our connections are solid, Coranros. I would not have mentioned it were it not fact checked.”
“Let us not begin to bicker again, please,” Mizzrym says, raising a palm. “If Umrala says they have fact checked, we will take her at her word, as much as we would any other meeting.”
Zola’s ploy had worked — she’d baited Menat into defending her reputation and the others couldn’t question it without offending Menat in some way. She leans back in her chair, gaze bouncing between each speaker at the table.
“Fine… Apologies, Lady Umrala, I merely wish to make sure we are covering all bases,” Coranros grumbles. “That said, as good as you claim our guest to be, there is still the matter of the question not fully being answered.” He turns back to Zola. “And that is: what do you expect to become here? It’s one thing to claim to wish to help people, but to announce yourself as ‘firstborn’ implies much more. Are you seriously proposing that you become Matron over the Lady Larynda?”
“No, good sir,” she answers. “Larynda and I will be co-Matrons. And that is why the change I bring will not be ‘wanton’, Lady Jannitra, for my sister will be my equal and nothing will go without her say.”
All eyes shift onto Larynda.
“Is this true?” Mizzrym asks, feigning surprise.
Larynda is unmoved by the attention on her, sitting like a queen at the table and speaking like she is setting the minds of her subjects at ease. “Yes. The two of us have spent a long time going over how this will work and, given not only the situation our mother has created but also the void she leaves, a joint approach would prove much more robust a lead for our house and our place in the Sprawl.”
“This is highly unusual,” says Dhautree.
“Of course it is.”
“Two Matrons would still only hold the power of a single seat at the council,” says Coranros.
“Of course it would.”
“The responsibilities of matronhood would be split between the two Ladies Rhomdaen equally, both having final say with a binding agreement between them that one does not act without the other’s input,” Sabuit adds.
“That may prove difficult,” Mizzrym says. “I need not tell you, Lady Larynda, how critical the decisions of the Matron are. What if something arises and your sister is not around to have her input?”
“There will clearly be a bedding-in period, but one of the two of us has already begun.”
“I need not remind you all that the personal affairs, whims, and decisions of the Matrons are not for us to question,” Sabuit says sternly.
“But it is our duty to speak on behalf of our Matrons at this meeting,” Jannitra protests.
“Indeed!” Coranros jumps up to his feet. “Forgive me, esteemed ladies of the Heart’s Head, but this is obscene to consider. An outsider is troublesome, but a splitting of a major house between two, at best, similarly aligned bodies will only serve to weaken us. We should be clear on this — either a single Matron, as with the others, or we consider more decisive action and handle matters ourselves.”
At this, Sabuit raises her voice and it takes on an edge not heard before now, giving her mousey appearance a tinge of something darker. “You would be wise to contain yourself, Coranros. You are potentially speaking of not one but two Matrons right now. We may all speak for our Matrons, but I highly doubt Matron Hyoseer Ithyr would be happy to be involved in some sort of scandalous behaviour.”
Coranros silently fumes in an effort to control his emotions before slinking back into his chair. “Of course, Lady Sabuit. My ladies, forgive me. I am only guilty of caring…”
“May the gods bless those who are,” Zola replies with a nod.
Coranros smiles and nods back, but it’s plain to see that it’s an uncomfortable gesture for him.
Mizzrym eyes up Sabuit and glances at Coranros for a moment. “Indeed, let us not forget who we are speaking to. As yet, no decision by our Matrons has been made, so we should consider them as they are. The matter of the house being run by two Matrons is not for us to squabble over. However, to better allow us to report to our respective Matrons, Lady Larynda, Lady Zola, could I ask how you foresee this arrangement working? Lady Larynda is known to us, but other than Lady Umrala Menat, the rest of us are strangers to you, Lady Zola.”
Jannitra clanks as she puts her hands on the table. “Indeed. What exactly do you think you could bring to the Sprawl? You have spent much time on the surface and…the Witching Court? I cannot help but think their ways differ greatly from ours.”
Zola turns to Larynda and Sabuit with an inquisitive look: Should we be open, or should we keep our plans to ourselves?
Sabuit catches the glance quickly. “Lady Mizzrym, surely you don’t expect them to divulge the nature of their plans for the house?”
“No, of course not. Lady Larynda is known to us. She is a priestess of Lolth, knows her way around the city’s complex streets and its even more enigmatic politics. I have no doubt that she is of her own mind and I do not wish to question that in any way, nor do I intend to pry into the mind of Lady Zola — I merely ask what she considers to be her basis for being able to lead a house.” Mizzrym raises her hands defensively. “Not in reference to her bloodline, only in terms of her skill. By all accounts, she sounds to us like a warrior — a holy warrior of Eilistraee, no less, something that I cannot help but think may conflict with Lady Larynda’s beliefs and ethos. I would merely like to be able to face my own Matron and answer her questions on how you imagine this will work.”
“That will be for us to manage, Mizzrym,” Larynda says. “But in the interest of abating your Matron’s questions: our combined experience and skill will provide far more coverage of our house’s affairs than you will need to consider. We will act as one and we will be the arbiters of that.”
“Indeed,” Zola chimes in. “And as for my being a stranger to you all — don’t worry, I have no intention of sequestering myself in the high halls that our parents have built. In time, you will know me.”
These answers seem to resonate with Mizzrym, Umrala, and Dhautree. The Gorr representative nods. “Very well, We, of course, have no say over how you manage your internal affairs. Forgive me for asking.”
Jannitra pipes up again. “There are, however, more pressing matters we will need some answers on — namely the situation Matron Phaeva has left us in.”
Drirynna’s jewellery softly clinks as she shifts. “Yes, let’s start with that. Where exactly is she?”
“We don’t know yet, to be honest…” Zola says. “There’s reason to believe that she and our father Kelolg are trapped in some kind of demiplane. We’re still looking for the entity responsible for all this trouble.”
Mizzrym quickly replies, “The entity responsible we shall come back to, but before we move on, is there anything you can shed for us? Kelolg and Matron Phaeva are missing and we do not know where. Do we know anything of their condition? Are they expected alive? How might they be found or how might we begin finding them?”
“Do we want to find them?” Jannitra adds in a grave tone.
There is a tense pause as the Heart’s Head considers the question.
“We do want to find them,” Zola says, low and quiet. “We have questions of our own that they need to answer. Both of us.”
“But what happens in the event they are found?” Umrala asks. “What do you intend to do once you have your answers?”
“I highly doubt Matron Phaeva will be happy to simply relinquish control of the house to the two of you. Especially to you, Lady Zola, given the nature of things,” says Jannitra.
Sabuit interjects again: “The ladies of House Rhomdaen will see to Matron Phaeva and Kelolg. Suffice to say, they will not be permitted to return to the position of leading the house.”
Larynda nods but says nothing.
“That’s not to say that Matron Phaeva will be happy with that arrangement. What would you propose if she were to resist?” enquires Mizzrym.
“With all due respect, my lords and ladies, that is for me and Larynda to decide, and no one else,” says Zola. After a beat, she resumes, “However, I’d like to assure everyone that in taking the mantle of leadership from Matron Phaeva, we have no wish to rock the boat, so to speak. House Rhomdaen will not go back on any oaths or alliances, nor will we forget any harm done to us.”
Sabuit seems happy with that response, but Mizzrym doesn’t look wholly satisfied. “Of course, but please do remember that the other Matrons may have an opinion on such a matter,” Mizzrym says. “I can think of at least a few who would want her dead, or at least banished from the Sprawl for good.”
Jannitra Kilani nods along with the others, though the notion seems to make her tense.
“Very well,” says Umrala. “If the matter of Matron Phaeva is to be left, at least for now, to the House of Rhomdaen, then let’s move on to the next concern: the entity behind all this.”
Jinnatra leans forward. “Yes. Who and what exactly are they?”
“As my lady sister mentioned before, Phaeva had made a deal with a devil,” Zola replies. “His name is Zarzuul.”
She pauses to let the others fill in before Jannitra can needle her again. Larynda follows up immediately. “Zarzuul has his eyes set on gaining influence in Aeschira for an unknown reason, something he has been managing through his agent Tebrin Zoland and our mother. However, Mother kept this arrangement from the rest of the family until the end. None of this was known by my cousins or myself until Zola brought out the truth.”
“Matron Phaeva was known for being secretive and handling some matters directly, as I’m sure you are aware,” Sabuit adds seamlessly, glancing at Jannitra. “And while we don’t know the nature of this Zarzuul’s plans, I think it’s safe to assume his incursion here is something we are all striving to prevent.”
“Is the intention to simply stop his incursion, or to eliminate him?” comes the surprising response from the so far silent Antoyn Shanmet. “Stopping the incursion is, of course, the aim. But we should be cautious of inviting more attention if we try to declare all-out war.”
“To be frank, my lord, I see no way of stopping his meddling other than killing him,” Zola says. “The responsibility shall fall unto me. Wouldn’t be my first time slaying a devil.”
Both Larynda and Sabuit give her an encouraging look.
Jannitra does bite, though. “Good. I do not forget, however, that Lady Larynda mentioned not knowing any of this. How exactly have you come about all of this knowledge, Lady Zola? We cannot ignore the news of your relationship with this Tebrin, after all…”
She gives a sigh. “Yes, it was partly through Tebrin and partly through my adoptive mothers that I found out about Zarzuul. However, neither of them were at liberty to speak much about him — they’re all sworn to silence by the strictest terms of an infernal contract. That’s why there’s still a lot we don’t know.”
Mizzrym sits up straight. “About Tebrin — what is his part in this? By the sound of things, he is a pawn of Zarzuul. Yet to let things slip and lead to this outcome… Seems like there is more to his actions. He may not speak on Zarzuul, but what do we know of him and his intentions?”
Zola shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “You may as well be the one enlightening us on that matter, Lady Mizzrym. As I understand it, Tebrin had connections with your house, didn’t he? For all the time we spent together, he kept his plans close to his chest.”
Sabuit gives a little pained sigh at the wording of the question. Mizzrym herself tenses up and develops a slight frown, and she speaks now with a slight edge. “‘Connections’ is a strong word…” She looks around the room at everyone eyeing her, in particular Coranros. “We had Tebrin make contact with us some time ago trying to secure security work with us following some…issues with another supplier we had. He has been kept at a distance, however, due to some concerns about his conveniently timed approach. I, personally, have tried making contact since the events at the Rhomadaen mansion in the hopes of flushing him out and cleaning up the mess your house has made, but he has decidedly evaded our invitations.”
Jannitra is quick to jump on this, and her tone is decidedly antagonistic. “Indeed, there is only one present who has been so immensely connected with this interloper. Is there really no other detail you can offer? No sweet nothings shared?”
Sabuit sits forward. “Remember, you are talking to one of the intended Matrons of House Rhomdaen, Jannitra. Your affiliations with Phaeva are known to—”
“My affiliations?”
Sabuit raises a hand and continues, “Your affiliations — in that you worked closely with Matron Phaeva, not insinuating anything further — does not mean you need to treat Lady Zola so icily… And I assure you, Lady Mizzrym, from my conversations with Lady Zola, she only meant to suggest knowledge that Tebrin had reached out to you, not that you or your family had a running arrangement. As she has clearly stated, she was not privy to all his motives and agenda.”
The room grows quiet and palpably uncomfortable before Dhautree breaks the silence. “Tebrin’s motives aside, what is the plan for the invader in our midst? Surely, as one of the more intricately woven threads of this scheme, he needs to be eliminated?”
All heads in the room nod in agreement. Mizzrym particularly.
Zola silently prays they do not see the muscle flexing in her jaw. She tries to exude a steely look in her eye and a coolness in her voice, hiding her clenching fists under the table. “He, too, shall be removed.”
Mizzrym, Coranros, and Dhautree take a moment to exchange strange looks with one another.
…Oh, this is bad.
“Good. I’m glad we can agree on that, at least,” Mizzrym says slowly.
“Indeed,” Coranros says, equally slowly, as he turns back to Zola. “So, what of your adoptive mothers, Lady Zola? What are your intentions with them? They are not of Aeschira at all, seem to have been involved from the beginning, and likely have their own agenda. Do you intend for them to join you in the city?”
“No, their home is in the Witching Court. That’s where they’ll return to.”
“Are we sure there isn’t anyone else involved? The last thing we need is another player making themselves known,” says Driryanna.
“Not that we know of.”
She looks at Larynda next. “Apologies, my ladies, for asking the painful question, but we must: Lady Larynda, are you satisfied that Lady Zola is not some kind of double agent aligned with Tebrin or this Zarzuul?”
Larynda looks incensed, but Sabuit jumps in. “Again, the Ladies Rhomdaen have had much time to go over what has happened and what they intend to do. You all know she is far from some impressionable young girl who does not know her mind. She would not be here, were that the case.”
“True enough. Then I instead pose the same question to Lady Zola: are you satisfied? You seek to place yourself in a powerful yet dangerous position, after all.”
“Am I satisfied?” Zola echoes the question disbelievingly. She scoffs and shakes her head. “Lady Do’Viir. I have, as my inheritance, one of the highest offices in this land. I have a sister now, and cousins who might as well be my brothers. Why in the world would I throw all that away for, what, a devil who would trap me in a contract anyway? I am not an adherent of Lolth. I do not believe in killing my kin just to gain more power. You ask me what I want? I want peace. I want justice. I am not my mother and I am not Tebrin — I do not want power for power’s sake.”
Driryanna studies her intently as she speaks, but she doesn’t get a chance to reply as Dhautree beats her to it. “Very well. Then, with your unique position of recently gaining all this, how would you suppose we prevent this kind of fiasco happening again? I’m not so cruel as to suggest you solve this now. The Matrons and Heart’s Head will no doubt work on this with some serious concern moving forward, but where would you begin?”
Zola gives an exasperated sigh. “I think we need to start asking ourselves why so many of our people feel the need to make deals with fiends. Our parents… They were poor. They had a hard life and all they wanted, at first, was to not have to struggle every day — something most of us here, including myself, are lucky enough to not understand. The Church of Lolth teaches that you must use any means necessary to climb to the top, so when a chance presented itself to them in the form of Zarzuul, why wouldn’t they take it? That’s probably what the Matron of House Shanmet was thinking too.” She glances at Antoyn, a sympathetic look in her eye. “I can’t imagine that she entered into a pact with a nasty mushroom demon out of anything but desperation. But the thing is, there is always another way. And we, we the people in charge of this country, can show them. We can help them.”
Antoyn catches her eye. “I cannot condone nor answer for the mistakes my family has made in the past, but I do thank you for your kindness, Lady Zola. Whatever their reasoning, I agree — if we work together in the interest of the Sprawl, we can surely prevent such a catastrophe from happening again. Also, if I may say: though House Shanmet has suffered the consequences of its actions, I, for one, would prefer we do not further imbalance the power structure we hold here by demolishing another house. If we can aid in correcting this matter, we should seek to be of one mind in doing so.”
Jannitra turns to him. “Those are pretty but easy words for you. Your house will not be the one putting their lives on the line if these devils do come for us.”
Antoyn bows his head but answers confidently regardless. “No, we do not have an army like the other houses. But our lives and wellbeing are tied to the city same as yours, and we share in its losses.”
Mizzrym ends the diversion. “We have already decided on a united front regardless. The question remains of what that front is, which was the point of this meeting. Let’s not waste anyone’s time by rehashing this.”
“Quite,” Umrala says. “It seems to me that the pertinent question is: what is going to be done now?”
“Precisely. We have a Matron missing, a literal devil amongst us, and a looming threat, all tied to House Rhomdaen. I assure you, Lady Larynda and Lady Zola, my own Matron and no doubt the others as well have already considered simply dealing with this matter ourselves… However, as Antoyn has stated, we are aware of how much of a ripple such drastic action may have. We cannot speak for the decisions of our Matrons, but they will be looking to us for answers.”
“What exactly is your plan for correcting this, and where will the lines lie once you are done?”
Zola closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Like Larynda, she tires of this unending questioning. Silence simmers in the air for a long moment, punctuated by the faint tolling of the Heart Bell.
“Twenty seconds.”
Everyone in the room gives her a bemused look.
“Twenty seconds,” she repeats. “That’s how long it took for me and four companions to end the war that House Rhomdaen declared on me. And don’t get me wrong, my kin were formidable. You are right to doubt me for my lack of experience, but anyone who doubts my skill in the sword arts shall do so at their own peril.” She opens her eyes and there is a crusader’s zeal burning in her golden-amber gaze. “When I am done with Zarzuul, there will be no more of his ilk left to trouble us ever again. Every devil in the Nine Hells will fear the name Rhomdaen and the bite of Aeschiran steel.”
The representatives are visibly taken aback at the change in Zola’s demeanour. Jannitra begins to look at her a little differently, like she sees something that maybe she didn’t before.
After a moment, Umrala speaks up. “Noble as a proclamation that is, I know my own Matron will have other questions, and I’m afraid my words alone will not convey the passion with which you speak, so let’s make this simple… You aim to take the fight to Zarzuul directly?”
“To kill Tebrin Zoland?” says Coranros.
“And return to Aeschira as joint Matrons for House Rhomdaen?” says Mizzrym.
“And release your adoptive mothers…” says Sabuit. She looks at the rest of the table. “The hags may not be of Aeschira, but let us not think little of the weight a personal vendetta can hold.”
All eyes around the table are staring at Zola and Larynda.
Larynda’s answer is simple and powerful; she speaks with purpose and conviction in a tone that offers no contest. “Yes.”
“Yes,” Zola echoes her twin.
That single word hangs heavy in the air as the council of Heart’s Head sits studying the two sisters. After a moment, Mizzrym glances at the others, who all return the look in kind.
Sensing a change in the room, Sabuit turns to Larynda, who only nods, before looking at Zola. “Do you have anything you wish to raise?”
“Nothing else. Thank you.”
“Excellent,” is the cool response from Mizzrym from across the table. She leans back into her chair and gives a slight smile, one that is simultaneously whimsical and drenched in venom. “Then I think we should retire. We do look forward to the forthcoming updates, Sabuit, and whether we do need to intervene… But for now, I think we have taken up enough of our guests’ precious time. Matrons Rhomdaen — thank you, again, for coming.”
Zola’s eyebrows jump up into her hairline. Did I hear her right? Did she just call us—?
“Well— Er— You’re welcome!” she exclaims, looking excitedly between Larynda and Sabuit.
Everyone begins rising from their seats, but before they can disperse and return to their respective mansions, Zola walks hastily over to Antoyn Shanmet. She clasps his hand in hers, gazing into his eyes.
“Thank you, and I’m sorry about your family.”
He smiles a little awkwardly and bows his head. “Thank you, Matron… But you need not offer your sympathy. We have paid the price for our actions. I merely hope to stop others from making the same mistake.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Coranros lingering at the doorway, watching the two of them. Larynda, with Sabuit behind her, taps Zola on the shoulder and quietly says, “We should go.”
She nods. The three Rhomdaens take their leave, two of them walking out as Matron Mothers.
As the carriage door shuts and the driders begin to skitter forward, Sabuit lets out a sigh like she was holding her breath.
“Was that…okay?” Zola asks.
“Yes, I think so. The Heart’s Head seems to have recognised you both as Matrons now, which was part of the aim… You will both need to deliver on your promise of resolving matters for them to truly honour that, however. Coranros Ithyr seems to have a poor opinion of us, but you were never going to truly win him over today anyway. Whatever work the two of you have put in with Umrala Menat and Jannitra Kilani has certainly paid off. I know it seems that Jannitra in particular was dogging you, Zola, but I’m positive that had Larynda not intervened before the meeting, it would’ve been much worse. Drirynna Do’Viir seems largely on board with us, but we cannot ignore the market competition we have with them; they are a fickle ally at best. Dhautree T’sylan is likely still wary of the change, but you don’t appear to have given her anything to latch onto, at least. And, well, Anotyn Shanmet seems to have taken a liking to you; whether that helps us or not is another matter.
“You, Zola, will definitely need to learn to mind how you word certain comments, especially when meeting with the other Matrons. I won’t be there to intercept for those and you mightily upset Mizzrym with your question — I doubt that will reflect well on how she reports to Matron Anto Gorr, but at least she is not outwardly advocating against us right now. And Larynda, you need to control your temper. I understand you may not like speaking with the representatives nor enjoy their questioning, but they are reporting to the other Matrons, remember? This will be their first impression of you both as Matrons.”
Larynda gives Sabuit an icy look but says nothing, knowing that their cousin is, of course, right.
“Sorry,” Zola says sheepishly. “Tebrin is a…touchy topic for me, as you might imagine. Erm, ‘touchy’ might not have been the right word to use for that…”
Sabuit chuckles. “Otherwise…” She looks out the window, considering things for a moment. “I actually think it went well. You showed them what they know, Larynda — the familiarity of dealing with a Rhomdaen who knows the city, its workings and social norms, and the forceful nature they would expect of a Matron. While you showed them some kindness, Zola. It may well be worth leaning into those facets: the hand that feeds and the hand that punishes. Don’t mistake me, of course — it was equally important for you to show you are not a pushover, Zola, but the display between the two of you has certainly given them something to think about.”
Larynda, staring out the window, asks in a clipped tone, “Where are you staying now, Sabuit?”
“An apartment in Coldside.”
“Pack up when you get home.”
Sabuit looks concerned for a moment.
“I’ll have Molgar clear out one of the family houses for you. We need you comfortable and rested if you are going to continue fending off those vultures.”
“Sheesh, don’t scare Cousin Sabuit like that!” Zola gently chides her sister, before flashing a big grin and wrapping her arms around Larynda’s shoulders. “Gods, we really did it, didn’t we?”
Larynda’s body is still taut with tension, but she does crack a small smile at that. “There is still much to sort out, Zola. They were just the hands of the houses. We still have the other Matrons to worry about…and the matter of dealing with Zarzuul. Kekoph and Vorn are still working on getting the door open for us, but we need to be ready when it is. We may not have another opportunity.”
“Of course, of course. But can we celebrate becoming Matrons just a little bit? Pleeeaaase?”
“Being a Matron is a responsibility, Zola, not a birthday we can celebrate.” She looks back out the window again at the streets speeding past. “But I suppose we can take a moment for a bit of fun.”
Sabuit nudges Zola to signify the win. Zola punches a fist into the air and cheers and laughs, throwing an arm around Sabuit’s neck.
“…Wait, what do you do for fun around here?”
“There’s a spa resort near the Stolp. It’s not too far from here.” Larynda opens a sliding window in the front of the carriage and tells the driders of their new destination.
“I love it!” Zola exclaims. “Should we take the boys with us?”
“No.”
“Okay!”
And that was that.
Co-written with Anthony