~3. Something Like Friends~
Kitty
“Why are you limping, Kitty?”
Kitty froze at the sound of Toloruel’s voice. She hadn’t been expecting him. His patrol wasn’t due back until tomorrow. Slowly, she turned away from the clothes she had been laundering to face her master. The kobolds with her kept at their work furiously, trying not to catch the eye and ire of their drow lord.
“I…” she began, unsure of what to say. Her eyes darted up quickly to read the color of his face. It wasn’t a blaze of anger. Yet. But as she averted her gaze, she noticed something else. Rismyn had just entered the laundry room with a large bundle of fabric to add to their workload.
“Did you forget how to speak in my absence? I asked you a question. Why are you limping?”
Kitty watched Rismyn out of the corner of her eye. He went rigid and still at his brother’s words. It was lucky he stood behind Toloruel or he’d have received a smack for lifting his eyes from the ground. The younger drow prince was openly staring, even as Kitty returned her attention back to Toloruel’s boots.
I was bit by one of your sister’s abominations, she wanted to say. But she stuffed the thought away. Drow priestesses could sometimes read thoughts, and though she didn’t think Toloruel possessed that power, she didn’t want to chance it. Instead, she said, “I have been attending to Mistress Mindra.”
That should explain enough. Mindra was fanatical about her pet spiders. She bred them for their venom and often used Kitty to test her results.
“Of course,” Toloruel said, and it was hard to tell how he felt about her answer. “When was this?”
The bile rose in her throat.
“Four days ago.” And honestly, the limp was an improvement. She’d had to have her flesh healed by a cleric before it rotted all the way to her bone. Since then she’d been dragging her numbed leg around like a club until this morning.
“Four days.”
Oh, no. He was repeating her words.
“Did I not give you something for this sort of thing?”
Her shoulders slumped. “Yes, my lord.”
“Then why haven’t you used it? I better not discover it was to lessen your work.”
“No, my lord.” She was already hunching over, waiting for him to strike. Though he still stood in the doorway, he was agile as a cat and could be upon her faster than she could flinch. Her eyes darted up involuntarily but didn’t quite make it to Toloruel.
Instead, they landed on Rismyn again, who looked on with something like horror in his eyes. It occurred to her then that she could simply tell the truth. She didn’t have the balm because Rismyn had taken it. Surely Toloruel couldn’t get mad at her for submitting to a drow, especially one of his own blood.
But something churned in her stomach at the thought of it. She knew Rismyn had the balm. She knew he’d been using it, too. She could tell by the way he walked when she caught glimpses of him in the halls. Straight and tall, not a trace of misery on his features. No amount of acting could hide the telltale hobble of a fresh whipping.
And inexplicably, it filled her heart with joy. She’d made a difference in someone’s life. Even if that difference was for a drow prince at her own expense. She had conquered evil with good, if only for a moment. She didn’t want to give that memory to Toloruel so he could soil it.
“I lost it,” Kitty finally said. She kept her eyes on Rismyn, watching his horror turn to surprise. “It must have fallen from the pocket of my apron. I looked everywhere for it, but it’s gone.” She dropped to her knees, her head down, her palms pressed firmly against the stone floor. “I’m sorry, master. Please forgive my carelessness.”
“You lost it,” Toloruel repeated, so flatly that Kitty knew she was in trouble.
She tensed in anticipation of the beating to come.
But the prince laughed softly. “Now, Kitty. That’s tragic! Did it not occur to you to simply ask me for another?”
No, she thought to herself, that would be foolishness. But that’s what he wanted from her, foolishness. She shuddered as his shadow fell over her. Then his hand was on her–deceptively gentle–as he lifted her chin.
“Go on, Kitty. Ask me for another.”
Her gaze met his and then drifted down. Every part of her wanted to spit in his face or claw out his eyes, but it would gain her nothing but pain. Reluctantly, she said the words. “I lost my healing balm. May I have another?”
The strike came so fast she never even saw it. She merely found herself stunned and staring at the wall, her cheek pressed against the warm floor of the laundry room.
“Absolutely not,” Toloruel said. “Why would I reward carelessness? You have lost it, so you go without. But don’t expect to use injury to get out of your work.”
Fortunately, he turned away. Kitty breathed a sigh of relief when she realized that she wasn’t going to get hit again. All things considered, one smack wasn’t so bad. Still, she knew better than to move before he was out of the room.
But just before he left, he paused. “I’ve let you become too comfortable. Turn your blanket over to Tika.”
It surprised Kitty how much more that statement hurt than the strike.
---
Time was a fleeting thing in Menzoberranzan. With no sky to track the hours by, and no view of Narbondel, the heated pillar the drow used to mark the hour, Kitty had no way of knowing when her day was done. It wasn’t until Tika turned her away and told her not to come back that she knew it would be safe to return to her corner in Toloruel’s room. Even if he was home early.
As it turned out, however, he wasn’t there. Judging by the number of slaves who had already retired for the day, it was late enough that he should have been, had he planned to be. Which meant she had at least one more peaceful night away from his presence before the torments began anew.
The sight of her now bare rug sapped the joy from her realization, though. She had forgotten she had lost it earlier that day. With a sigh, she curled up on the floor and hooked the iron manacle around her ankle. The device sealed magically, and would only open again at the start of the day or by the command of Toloruel. She didn’t dare try to sleep without it. Toloruel would know.
He always knew.
She settled down and found a marginally-comfortable spot, shutting her eyes. As always, one of her father’s poems drifted through her mind. A short little rhyme full of love and hope. She no longer believed the words, but she held onto them nonetheless. If she forgot them, she would forget her parents. And then she would truly be alone.
“You lied to Toloruel.”
Kitty sat bolt upright, staring around wildly. Her eyes found Rismyn’s face before dropping obediently to the floor.
What in the world was he doing here? And how did he get in without her noticing? She trembled violently, not because she feared him, though she did. But because Toloruel would know he was here.
He always knew.
“Why?” Rismyn asked, coming to stand over her.
“Why...what?” she breathed, then added belatedly, “Sir?”
“Why’d you lie to my brother and tell him you lost the balm when you knew I took it?”
Kitty couldn’t help herself. Her eyes darted around the room as though she expected to see Toloruel looming in a corner waiting to pounce.
Rismyn’s eyes narrowed with impatience. “He’s not here,” he said. “He’s scouting House Mineer’s defenses tonight. He won’t be back until the morning.”
Kitty already guessed it was something like that. House Mineer was the fourth noble house of the city, which meant that if House Tear wanted to rise in prominence, they needed to covertly destroy Mineer first. She shuddered involuntarily. It didn’t matter how many years passed, she would never get used to the brutality of the drow. It was a marvel their society didn’t implode on itself.
“Are you stupid? I asked you a question.”
Kitty blinked in surprise. “What?”
“Guess so.” Rismyn rolled his eyes. “Maybe you didn’t lie, then. You just forgot what really happened.”
Something about his attitude crawled right under her skin, though it shouldn’t have. She should have let the insult slide right off of her. Just another drop in her ocean of misery. But she still had the image of his torn skin in her mind, of his quiet tears in the corner of the chapel. He was not so different from herself, which made it very hard to accept his insults.
“I’m not stupid,” she said softly, lifting her gaze to his. “I lied to my master so you wouldn’t get beaten too.”
Rismyn stared at her, garnet eyes wide as if she slapped him herself. It was then that she remembered what and who she was addressing.
Her face paled and she spilled forward, prostrate. “I’m so sorry! Please forgive me. I spoke wrongly. Mercy!”
The strike never came. Instead, the prince asked, “Mercy?” But not in a snide, mocking way, the way Toloruel would have said it. It was curious, as though he didn’t know the meaning of the word.
And then, Kitty realized, he didn’t. The word didn’t exist in the drow language, so she had said it in Common. “M-mercy,” she repeated. “It...it means...I am asking you not to hurt me even though I deserve it.”
“Mercy,” Rismyn repeated, and the word sounded strange on his tongue. He seemed too distracted by this new concept to want to punish her insolence. His voice was suddenly closer to her, as though he had knelt down. “That’s a surface word, and a weak surface philosophy,” he concluded. “Is that why you lied to Toloruel? To mercy me?”
Had Kitty not been terrified for her life, she might have giggled at the way he used the word. “N-no, sir. I am in no position to show you mercy. You are lord, I am but a humble slave, begging your pardon.”
“But I deserved a beating for taking from you what was given,” Rismyn said. “You could have gotten out of your own beating by telling Toloruel the truth. And had vengeance for the insult I paid you.”
Kitty didn’t dare breathe. Was she actually hearing logic from a drow? Even if it was flawed logic; Toloruel would have beaten her regardless of what Rismyn had done. But Rismyn was admitting fault by suggesting she had reason to take vengeance on him. It was inconceivable.
“Get up,” he said suddenly. “I want to talk to you.”
He nudged her gently with his toe and Kitty scrambled up before that nudge could become a kick. Instinctively, she backed as far away from him as her corner would allow, hugging herself and trying to appear small and subjugated.
Drow never wanted to just talk.
“If...if my master knew you were here…”
“I already told you he’s not here,” the prince sighed, with another roll of his eyes. “You don’t listen, do you?”
Kitty shivered and glanced around at the shadows. “He’ll still know.”
Rismyn hesitated. Then he, too, glanced fearfully over his shoulder, before shaking his head and clenching his jaw. “I just came to return this.” He thrust his hand out, and she could see the silver gleam of the balm through his dark fingers. “You didn’t steal it so it is yours.”
Kitty gaped at him. It had to be a trap.
“Well?” Rismyn demanded. “Take it. I don’t want to be in your mercy-debt.”
“My...what?”
“I’m not stupid. I know you only gave this to me to put me into your debt.” He looked so sure of himself, it would have been adorable. If he weren’t a drow. “Well, I won’t be fooled by your faerie tricks. Take it back and we are even.”
“I...what? No, no!” Kitty shook her head. “I told Prince Toloruel I lost it. If I suddenly have it again, he’ll punish me for lying.”
Oddly, Rismyn looked dismayed. Could he have possibly felt guilty? No, that couldn’t be. The drow didn’t feel such things.
“Well then hide it from him,” he said, shoving the tin at her. “I don’t want your mercy. Take it back.”
“That’s...that’s not how mercy works,” Kitty said. She knew she walked a dangerous line, correcting his understanding. “It isn’t something you give or take, and it isn’t something that puts you into debt. It’s just...just…” she hesitated, trying to think of how to put it into words he would understand. “It’s a kindness that you show someone even though you don’t have to show them kindness. It’s unconditional.”
“Kindness?” Rismyn repeated, and she could see him struggling with the word.
Her fingers twisted into the hem of her dress as she tried to figure out how to define ‘kindness.’ The drow equivalent didn’t carry the same meaning as the Common word she had used. “Kindness is...doing something good for someone, just because. Not so that they will then do something good for you, but just because it is the right thing to do.”
Rismyn scowled. “That’s stupid. Why would you do something good for someone and not get anything in return?”
Kitty could only shrug. “Because it makes you feel good?”
“Did it feel good when Toloruel slapped you for losing the balm?”
“No,” Kitty admitted. Her jaw was still throbbing, even hours later. “But I felt good when I saw you weren’t in pain anymore. And that good was worth the bad.”
The page prince looked at her aghast. It was clear he didn’t know what to make of her words. Finally, after several attempts to speak, he managed, “Why?”
At first, Kitty had no answer. She wanted to say it was because she had been raised that way, or because she just knew it was right, but that wasn’t entirely true. Something else had clicked inside of her the day she found Rismyn in the chapel.
“Because,” she said, tilting her head to the side as she thought it through. “When I saw you in pain, it reminded me of myself. I know what it feels like to be whipped. I knew how much you were hurting, and I had it within my power to help you. To not do so would be evil, wrong. They treat you as bad as they treat me, and I guess I just wanted to do something to make it better for you.”
It seemed like the right thing to say until she looked back at the prince and saw his face darkened with anger. She had gotten too comfortable.
“I am nothing like you, faerie,” he snarled, his fists curling into balls.
Kitty flinched and held her hands up to cover her face.
“Nothing! I’m the secondboy of House Tear! I won’t be a page forever. I’ll be recognized as a true prince and become the fiercest warrior Menzoberranzan has ever seen! You’re just an animal, a pet, a faerie.”
By now, Kitty had folded in on herself, trembling. Or at least, she tried to close up. Her right leg didn’t quite make it, swollen as it was with the spider’s venom. “I’m sorry,” she squeaked. “I didn’t mean to imply we were the same! Just...just...similar experiences...” she trailed off, knowing she had said too much.
Several minutes passed, with Rismyn saying nothing. At first, she could hear his ragged breath as he fumed, mastering his temper. But eventually even that faded away. She dared not look up at him. Maybe he would go away after all, and she wouldn’t have to face a beating until Toloruel returned.
At length, he finally spoke. “Here,” he said, surprisingly gentle.
The tone didn’t assuage her fear, though. Toloruel could speak sweetly while he crafted new cruelties to use against her. She trembled until the floral scent of the healing balm met her senses.
“Let’s compromise.”
Tentatively, she glanced his way and found him holding the open tin. He wouldn’t quite meet her gaze, and had Kitty not known better, she would have thought he looked ashamed.
“You’ll at least allow me to heal the bite that afflicts you now,” he said, with enough command to remind her of Toloruel. “And I will keep the tin to mercy you from my brother’s wrath. Then we are even.”
Kitty thought carefully, then nodded. Toloruel probably wouldn’t know how long it would take her to recover from the spider bite. There would be no reason for him to suspect she’d been healed of it by the balm she claimed to have lost.
Except that he always knew.
Still, this was the best way to placate both princes. She reached her hand out to take the tin but Rismyn pulled it back.
“I’ll do it,” he said. “Show me the wound.”
Kitty obliged. She had little choice, after all. She extended her bare foot from under her ragged dress, turning it a little so he could see the swollen red marks where the spider bit just above her heel.
Rismyn moved slowly, as though he were wary of something amiss. He dipped two fingers into the balm and then glanced at her, before edging closer. He hesitated, and Kitty thought he would change his mind before his eyes steeled over and he touched the balm to the bites. Then he let out the breath he had been holding.
Kitty shuddered as the cool magic worked its way into the wound. The flame of the venom receded at once, and she closed her eyes and sighed in relief as feeling returned. She was so relieved that it took her a moment to realize she still felt the prince’s hands on her. Both hands, now. One around her ankle, working in the balm, and one cradling her calf.
Her eyes popped open at once, and she stared at the prince, who stared at the flesh of her leg with nothing short of boyish wonder.
“You’re so soft,” he whispered, almost as though he didn’t realize he was speaking out loud. His fingers slid along her calf gently, sending shivers down her spine in response. “Not leathery like a bat or scaled like a lizard.”
Heat burst into Kitty’s face like a volcanic eruption. What was he doing? She pulled her leg back and, freshly healed, tucked it firmly under her skirts. “Of course not,” she babbled, embarrassment and the rush of the healing making her mind spin. “Why would I have scales?”
To her great surprise, Rismyn’s own face flushed and he quickly scooted away from her. “‘Cause you’re a faerie,” he said. “The evil enemy of my people.”
“That’s funny,” Kitty grumbled. “That’s what my people say about yours.”
Rismyn glared and hopped to his feet. “Your people betrayed mine and banished us to the Underdark. Every evil thing that has happened to the drow is because of the faeries!”
“I don’t know anything about that,” Kitty said. She fidgeted under his gaze, drawing nervous circles around the stone floor with her finger. “But your brother slit my mother’s throat in front of my eyes, while his companions slaughtered everyone I knew. We were peaceful, honest people, who made our living on song and dance. Not warriors. Not fighters. Not dangerous.”
It was clear that this was news to Rismyn, and news that made him uncomfortable. “I’m sure there was more to it than that.”
A curious response from a drow. From what Kitty had learned of them, they needed no more reason to kill than sport.
She sighed and hugged her knees closer. “There wasn’t.”
Rismyn looked away and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well,” he said, with a note of finality. “We’re even now. A mercy for a mercy.” Then he turned on his heel and marched from the room.
Kitty watched him go. A strange, light feeling bubbled up inside of her. A feeling she couldn’t quite identify. Like a memory on the edge of her heart. She was sure she had felt this once before, but it had been so long she couldn’t remember what the emotion was.
Tired, confused, and exhilarated, she waited for the door to shut behind him before she allowed hot tears to leak silently down her cheeks. It was the only expression she could muster.
He had shouted at her and insulted her. But he hadn’t hit her. His only contact with her had been kind and gentle. When was the last time anyone had ever touched her for any reason aside from hurting her?
Shuddering, she let her hand fall over the place where Rismyn had touched her.
Why did it have to be him, a drow prince?
She was sure an encounter like this would never happen again. Still, it had been kind of nice. Almost as if they could be friends.
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