Chapter 30 - Relics

No, instead it's this ominous door at the end, the one with old, old wood and a few creepy stains on it. It's always creepy stuff here, isn't it? Ebrellin-i's taste was elegant, at least - more about instilling intimidation instead of fear. I'm starting to get homesick for it.

I'm starting to get those flashes again, and I don't like them. I can see Edward in them, which seems distant, and my Father looking rather angry, which looks imminent. That's never good.

I can see Faun, too, and I don't know how to feel about that.

Take them in stride. Don't think about them too hard. Just catalouge and move on with what you're doing. It's normal for what you are, if that helps. Call it your own special set of instincts.

I bite my lip and nod, even though he probably doesn't catch that.

Oh, I See very well in fact. Go on. What's in there won't hurt you. Someone like Stevane wouldn't do so well, but you don't seem to scry the past so much as get hunches on the future.

I take a deep breath, check behind me due to automatic paranoid instinct, and then grab the door's handle. Nothing. Good. I turn it and step in. It's a room full of musical instruments. I feel like I should recognize a few of them, but it's like being at a gathering of people who are your friend's friends. I keep going in - Elric hasn't told me to stop, and I am getting a hunch. I don't like the feel of it, but it's probably dead right. I walk towards the far wall, where shelves line it.

These are all of our confiscated instruments. Elric sounds so wistful. And other items, of course. Poets act as diplomats and messengers, so of course we'd be bearing all manner of interesting things. Go on, you've got the right heading. Ah, yes. Here we are.

I behold the shelf I'm in front of.

They're really not all that bad, if you can't scry the past. Indeed, they tell me of my ancestors and our old tribes and their accomplishments. It's really quite nice, in that sense, especially if I'm not looking at them. In any case... do you have a weak stomach? I'm sorry.

I swallow, trying to think of anything else but what I'm looking at. Musical instruments made of dead-people-parts don't put me in the happiest of places. Now would be a bad time to puke.

You can control that, you know. Just tell yourself you're going to puke later. Elric sounds a bit amused now. You'll find it's very handy for hangovers.

I'm going to puke later, right. I'll set aside time for it, sort of like a hobby.

Now, keep telling yourself that and keep it firm in your mind. You're going to need to pick up... the drum. Err, the big one, not the one that looks like it's made from a kid's err... skull.

My stomach roils.

You'll puke later! Remember that!

I remember. I sigh, close my eyes, and pick up the big drum. It's made out of a larger, adult-size skull. I pretend it's a lumpy coconut. Once it's tucked under my arm and I don't have to look at it anymore, I'm safe to open my eyes and think very little about what I'm doing right now.

Um, remember the drumstick. Elric sounds a little sheepish.

The drumstick is a fat, short, worn-down bone. I pretend it's ivory - which it is, in a way. Right.

I'm sorry, I just can't think of any other way to do it. You're doing splendidly - now just come out towards the cells. Don't look too carefully at what you're holding. Keep walking down. Another guard won't come for an hour - and then it'll be too late to stop everything. Now... you know how to drum, right? Everyone knows how to drum, it's why I didn't ask you to bring a harp instead. Oh dear, I'm sorry, please keep remembering you'll puke later!

I manage. Just barely, but I manage. The harp was strung with hair, you see, and it looked even more grisly than this... coconut. This is a coconut that I'm holding, and not anything creepy. Right. I'll puke later.

I do know how to drum.

Alright - out there, right outside my cell. Start drumming.

I blink. That's it?

I'll do the rest, Lyric. Don't worry about anything else.

* * *
Erynn
* * *

Gerude doesn't believe what he is seeing. None of us do. But Gerude has the guns, too - and they're not firing right now, which is more telling than any face the trainees might be making.

Fuzzy brown legs encircle Dougrasse's midsection like a set of unfashionable belts. The Arachne-kin is clinging to him, keeping its body hidden behind his, using him as a shield. Dougrasse doesn't seem to be very dismayed by this, though.

No, he's pleading with Gerude not to shoot the beast. Err, beast-person. Gerude looks like he's considering shooting Dougrasse instead.

"I understand being on a bit of a hair-trigger, but that doesn't mean you have to raise your gun to every person you open a door on!" Dougrasse is wheezing with his panic. I'm a bit worried for him - he's quite old. The stress can't be good for him. "I told you I had a friend in here!"

Gerude blows a strand of hair away from his face in exasperation. "Yes, and where is she? Did the spider you're telling me not to shoot eat her?"

"The spi--" Dougrasse's expression goes blank for a moment. The Arachne-kin behind him chitters. Realization flows across Dougrasse's face like the flush one gets from drinking a cold glass of water. "Oh."

Gerude just stands there, pistols at the ready. His Arms are looking, in their own gunnish way, as if they too are annoyed.

Darn tootin' we're annoyed-- we aren't shootin!

Ahh, Kennit. He's almost a Poet.

"Jhe Haari'se... is." Dougrasse pauses, swallows, then mops a bit of sweat from his forehead. "I'm sorry, m'dear, I hate sayin' it so crass."

The Arachne-kin chitters.

"This here Archne-kin is my friend Jhe Haari'se. I um... I realize she might look strange to you, and Jhe h'Logos himself hasn't met her yet, but she's a Poet in her own right. I've done my share of training them, I recognize the signs. I mean... just look at her work." He gestures to the rest of the room, which is draped with admittedly fine workmanship in the form of patterned rugs and needlework. It is quite a marvel to behold - especially the complex loom she's working on.

"Quite impressive," I say. "But you do have to understand Gerald's dismay at seeing you jerked into here by arachnid legs."

Dougrasse's expression implores me. Really, he looks quite pitiful. If there's anything pressing on me right now, it's that Jhe Dougrasse has spent most of the years he's been gone probably alone here, save for this Arachne-kin. "She was giving me a hug in greeting."

Okay, that's still creepy.

Gerude lowers Caerig and Kennit, still keeping them ready to fire. "Anything else I should be aware of? You know, me, an Armed who hasn't been constantly exposed to this strange dungeon for years, and isn't used to this crap?"

Dougrasse and Haari'se shake their heads in unision.

Gerude exhales heavily, then, and stows his Arms. He extends his hand. "Sorry for the misunderstanding. I'm most concerned for everyone's safety."

The Arachne-kin shakes his hand, albeit tentatively.

Erynn, should we really be trusting Jhe Dougrasse? He seems a little... crazy. I mean, even for a Poet, he's nuts.

I weigh out the possibilities. Don't take his words at exactly face value. He is a little bent, but he's on our side. And so is Jhe Haari'se, strangely.

Really?

I suppress an external nod. Yes. She has the mark of a Poet. Unexpected to find one in these circumstances, but just look at her work. Speaking of which, I say aloud:

"Jhe Dougrasse, that is an excellent piece of knitting you're wearing."

He laughs. "Why, thank you! I spun the yarn, Haari'se here knit the work herself. She's just so deft. Here, have you seen the rugs? And there's the blankets... tea cozies." He laughs. "A tea cozy that was Poetry, could you ever imagine?"

I understand his joy with her work, really I do, but-- "Jhe Dougrasse, Jhe Haari'se... we really must make haste out of here, if we're to make it out at all. I'm sorry. You'll have to leave it all behind."

Haari'se chitters to me, something I can't really make out well, but am trying to at least start pinning a tone to. She picks through the blankets, then flips one around her shoulders. She stands there solemnly for a moment. Then she plucks a hat from a hook on the wall and sets it onto Dougrasse's head. She nods to me, as if it's settled with that, and then walks out of the room.

The trainees make a wide berth for her. She looks around the room, then at the door we came through that adjoins the room full of spiders. She looks back at Dougrasse and chitters - I can't tell if her tone is worry or relief.

"All of them, honey. They killed all of them."

She nods, the gesture very businesslike, and then strides to the heavy door that we haven't opened yet. That would have to be the way out, then. She looks back, waiting for us.

I look over to Dougrasse. I keep my voice low. "Does she miss the ones we killed?"

Dougrasse's eyes widen, his expression that of horror. "Oh, goodness, not them. The Arachne-fobos are predators of her kind. The Lady Thelea kept them here because, well..." he drops his voice even further. "The thread's different, when they mate. It's not right, I think, since their kind don't produce young, but Thelea preferred the texture and the feel of it. She had her clothes made from it. I refuse to work it myself, if it's not for her. Haari'se's thread is beautiful on its own, but when it has the touch of Arachne-fobos on it..." He shudders. "It's like N-Nul hangs on the fiber itself. Nasty stuff." He swallows. "We can tell you a lot about it later, if you'd like, but for now..."

I nod. "I understand. It's certainly quite illuminating. The Poet Hall knows nothing about Arachne kind. How fast did you learn the language?"

Dougrasse sighs. "It took five years before I could understand. I was rather impaired back in those early days, though. All of us, back when we were first taken, couldn't hear much... couldn't function much at all..." He shakes. I keep my arm around his shoulders. I'm afraid he's going to start going into shock.

I look up at Haari'se, who in her own way does appear to be quite worried for her friend. I pass him forward. "Here, you two stick together. Make sure Gerude has room to shoot ahead of you. We'll be out of here in no time at all."

It doesn't quite feel like a lie, which does give me some hope. Haari'se opens the heavy door as Dougrasse leans against her - then they go through, Gerude following right behind, and the rest of us filing behind him.