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“I can’t believe you!” Usually, Xier Laeryndian prided himself for being cool headed and collected, no matter what the situation was. He could shrug off an insult in the blink of an eye, could patiently wait out an hour of nothing but his baby sister’s wails without growing testy himself, could bear with his mother’s mess of a life without complaint.
Usually.
But this was one step too far. He didn’t care that this was his mother he was talking to, not anymore.
Not when she was quite likely going to get them all killed.
“What were you thinking, stealing from the Zal’Davins?” he went on, not about to stop now. “You work for them—you’d know even better than I do what they do to those who cross them! They’ll hunt you down, and—”
“You think I don’t know that?” Nizzri Laeryndian interrupted. She’d looked positively bored for the entirety of this conversation—if one could call him ranting for ten minutes straight a conversation, that is—and Xier found himself wondering if she’d heard a word he’d said. “You’ve got some nerve, mister, thinking you can go and tell me about what’s right and what’s wrong. Besides, it doesn’t matter now anyway; what’s done is done.” There wasn’t a hint of shame in her voice, despite the fact that she’d undoubtedly just endangered the lives herself and both her children, the only family she had left.
Xier wanted to argue—how could she be so horribly calm about all of this?— but he knew from experience that there was no reasoning with Nizzri; she did as she pleased, and had for as long as he could remember.
So, he sighed, as if the action could expel the anger and frustration from him—it kind of worked, he supposed—and tried to regain his composure.
“You’re awfully calm about this; do you have a plan to get us out of this mess?” he asked. It came out more like a plea, however.
At that, Nizzri smiled, as if she’d been waiting for him to ask that very question. “I do.”
Her smile grew as she paused, clearly looking to create a dramatic effect.
Unfortunately for her, Xier was having none of that. “And?” He couldn’t deny the wariness in his tone; his mother was known for being daring and reckless—a well-earned reputation, if their present situation was any indication.
“We’re getting out of here.”
For a moment, Xier didn’t understand what she meant, and he stood there, staring blankly at her.
Then it finally hit him.
“We’re leaving the city?” The thought was almost unimaginable to him; he’d spent the entirety of his sixteen years of life here in their home city of Varaezan and knew nothing about the world beyond it, save for whatever he’d heard from the few people he knew who had ventured outside into the wilds of the Underdark.
“Not just the city: we’re leaving the Underdark behind altogether,” Nizzri corrected. “It’s about time you saw the surface anyhow, don’t you think? It’ll take some adjusting, sure, but I’ve got a nice city in mind for us to move into.”
Xier was grateful they were in their small dining room then, because he had to sit down at that. He sank into the nearest chair, practically dizzy with the implications of what he’d just been told. Leave the Underdark? Such a prospect had never even occurred to him until now.
But, clearly, Nizzri didn’t have the same issue.
“. . . You’ve been planning this, haven’t you?” It was obvious, if she’d already had a city in mind.
“Sure have; just thought I might as well go out with a bang and let those stuck-up Zal’Davins know just what I thought of ‘em in the process.” The smugness in her tone made it clear that she felt she’d accomplished that goal with flying colors.
“And it never occurred to you that I might want to know of these plans?” She wasn’t the only one who had a life here; he had friends and a job at the Gilded Lute instrument shop at the city central. What would Taravaen—the owner of the shop—think when he suddenly didn’t show up for work one night? When he never returned again?
“You know now, don’t you?” Nizzri either didn’t understand his plight or did not care—possibly both. “Now, enough of this; start packing whatever you can’t live without, we’re leaving within the hour.”
Xier nodded and stood up, albeit with a bit of resignation. His friends and his work aside, there was no question that they had to leave as soon as possible, thanks to Nizzir’s need to “go out with a bang,” as she’d put it.
He started for the hallway that would take him to his room, though paused in the mouth of the hall, turning to look over his shoulder at his mother, who was already making her way towards the kitchen, no doubt to start packing food for their journey.
“What did you steal from them anyway?” he asked, mildly curious. It had to be something important, for Nizzri to feel it would serve her purposes like this.
His mother beamed and reached into the bag that hung at her hip.
Xier didn’t know what he expected, but apparently it wasn’t the pair of objects that Nizzri pulled free and showed to him: a musty old book and a stone with a strange glowing rune etched into it.
He blinked, not believing what he was seeing—though not for the reasons that Nizzri seemed to think when her smile went smug.
“. . . We’re going to die because you stole a book and a rock?” It was an effort to keep from exploding again.
“Ah, don’t be like that!” Nizzri chided as she slipped them both back into her bag. “They’re magic! Relics that have been belonged to the Zal’Davin line for generations!”
Xier gave a long, drawn-out sigh and massaged his temple. He’d take her word for it.
“I can’t believe you,” he mumbled again, and she shot him a shameless wink as he turned and started off down the hall to start gathering his things.