"It seems," she said, "that those beneath me, some of them at least, have made other plans." She chuckled mirthlessly. "Curious that a high priestess learns more from a street-smart refugee than she does from her own people."
Kehrsyn shrugged.
"I am thankful that I spared you," said Tiglath, rather kindly for a woman of her imposing demeanor.
"Yeah, well, so am I," said Kehrsyn, sheathing her weapons.
An uncomfortable silence hung in the air for a few moments, until Tiglath slapped her knees and heaved her bulk to her feet again.
"Well," she said, "you said they were after something?"
"Yeah, a magical relic that someone told me might be the Staff of the Necromancer. About so long," she added, gesturing.
"Let's see if we can find it, shall we?" asked the priestess.
Tiglath's voice rang with forced cheer, but then, Kehrsyn mused, at least the priestess was trying to be friendly, even if it didn't come naturally to her.
"I really doubt we'll find it, if they didn't," said Kehrsyn. "They were very thorough."
"I have better help than they," said Tiglath. "I'll be right back."
The priestess went upstairs, and Kehrsyn heard her heavy footsteps tromp over to the front door, heard the door open and close again, and heard the stairs creak as Tiglath returned.
On Tiglath's shoulder, Kehrsyn saw the smallest dragon she had ever seen. It peered back at her with two tiny, intelligent, emerald eyes. Its whiskers seemed to float as if underwater, and it bobbed its head as if scenting the air, or perhaps some ethereal breezes that moved beyond mortal senses. It peered closely at Kehrsyn, then stuck its muzzle in Tiglath's ear.
"Really?" said Tiglath, speaking softly to her familiar. She pursed her lips with interest. "Fascinating," she added, as the dragonet withdrew its muzzle.
"What's fascinating?" asked Kehrsyn, rather unnerved that Tiglath was looking at her differently in the wake of the dragonet's message.
"Nothing, dear," answered Tiglath. "We have work to do."
The priestess held her hand up to her shoulder, and the dragonet moved to perch upon it. Tiglath "tsked" and clucked a few times-soft, intimate noises-and the dragon flew away, whizzing from room to room, its wings sounding like giant wasps or paper sheets in a windstorm.
"You sure that'll work?" asked Kehrsyn.
"Absolutely," replied Tiglath. "They are far superior beings and have instinctive sensitivities that we can attain only through years of hard work in magic."
Kehrsyn spread her hands, shrugged, and bowed herself out as the dragonet did its work. Turning on her heel, she began perusing the bunkrooms, looking for a cloak to replace her newly bloodstained rag. With luck, she'd find one that fit her, looked reasonable, and was at least water resistant, if not truly waterproof.
She found one that fit her needs, even if it was too wide and a tad short, and she went back to wait with Tiglath. The dragonet peered out of a different room, looked around, then zipped up the stairwell to the upper floor. Tiglath watched its departure and waited, staring at the stairwell, hands clasped in front of her.
"So, urn, priestess?" said Kehrsyn. "Can I ask-"
" 'May I,' dear," corrected Tiglath.
"What exactly is going on in Messemprar these days?" Kehrsyn asked, ignoring Tiglath's interruption. "I mean, Furifax, a bandit who had countless shekae on his head, has spies that know of this staff thing, and they've got all these people, yet they hire someone to steal it, and his allies come in and attack them for it, and their own leader doesn't even know it's going on, and both the bandits and the people they stole it from say they're doing it to help the people, but the Northern Wizards can't even know that it's here, otherwise they would already have bought it or something, but the Red Wizards did know… well, it just seems all confusing. You seem to know what's going on-" she paused and looked around-"aside from certain recent events, that is. So can you tell me… something? Anything? I mean, I'm just a juggler."
Tiglath took a deep breath, causing her already ample form to grow, then let the air back out as she framed her answer. She turned to face Kehrsyn, who stood, rolling one toe back and forth on the ground behind her.
"You are far more than just a juggler, my dear," began Tiglath. "For one thing, apparently, you're an accomplished thief."
"I didn't say I stole it," countered Kehrsyn.
"No, you didn't," observed Tiglath, "but neither do you deny it, and who else but someone at the very center of events would know so much about all sides? Oh, don't fret, dear. Your secret is safe, for not only have you my sufferance, but you have provided me with invaluable information." Tiglath moved closer, and despite her passive stance, she still seemed to loom over Kehrsyn's slight build. "Thus, let me repay knowledge for knowledge and answer your question.
"Messemprar is the remnant of one of the oldest empires in Faerun. Each grain of the sands upon which we stand has been ground from the bones of hundreds of generations of scholars, warriors, artists, and slaves, all of whom died to make Unther a dynasty to endure forever. Yet we find ourselves with a great void in the power structure."
"I thought the Northern Wizards had taken control," protested Kehrsyn.
"That is what they want people to believe," responded Tiglath, "and, for that matter, many others are content to let that illusion remain, for without that false sense of security, the populace would panic. The Northern Wizards do have some power. They have consolidated their hold on the bureaucracy and taken nominal control of the judiciary, which was no small feat, but the rest eludes them."
"But they have the army," suggested Kehrsyn.
"Actually, they don't. Just like a jackal defends her lair even though vipers have killed all her pups, so the army defends Messemprar and northern Unther. They are too busy fighting to meddle in politics, and frankly, they don't care who pretends to be in power so long as they get their support. So they take what they need, and no one dares stop them, for doing so risks everything we're fighting over."
"But who else is fighting?" asked Kehrsyn.
"The Northern Wizards are opposed by groups like Furifax and his band-Gilgeam called them bandits, but they call themselves revolutionaries-our church of Tiamat (all glory to her name), Mulhorandi sympathizers, the Zhentarim-"
"The Zhentarim?" echoed Kehrsyn with alarm.
"They're a poison in the wine if ever there was. While the rest of us fight at the top, they're undermining the bottom, turning themselves into the heroes of the rabble and many of the minor noble houses, spreading their lies with free bread, extra constables, ploys like that. It wouldn't be so bad if they weren't part of a network that covers most of the continent. The organization is affiliated with the church of Bane, though I'm not clear if the Zhentarim are an arm of the church, or the church is an arm of their network."
"Oh, boy," said Kehrsyn. "I can think of a number of things I'd rather have heard than that."
"I know the feeling," commented Tiglath, and Kehrsyn didn't doubt it. "Then there's the leftover Gilgeamite clergy, two or three so-called royal houses that trace their lineage to Gilgeam's dalliances, the Hegemony of Artisans, and, rumor has it, a subversive group of slaves that wants to turn the power structure upside down. Those are the people vying for power. The Red Wizards and a few other groups are trying to ingratiate themselves with whoever might come out on top by assisting in whatever manner possible."