When the Ilharess first broached the subject of me getting the stables in order, I must admit that I was taken aback. I had spent all of my life in one area or another of the militia, but I had never ridden. Two legs had suited me fine, and the thought of having more was...well... was the sick drider-humor that only Ilharessen enjoyed. With the practiced speech of one that had accepted many such assignments, I answered, bowing, "Bel'la dos, Malla Ilharess, I had hoped you would consider me for the position." She then began referring to me as z'haruk, but I could never tell from one moment to the next whether she implied "mount" or "mounted".

An assignment was... an assignment. It did allow me to move from the sargtlin barracks to the stables. I packed up my few possessions and settled, easily, into my new surroundings. After touring the stables from the perspective of a z'haruk, I surmised that, over time, we could harvest a very large group of mounted warriors. The housing and training areas were adequate for the desired and designed needs. Only one question remained...who would train me...so that I could train others? Maybe, I thought shrugging, it would not be that hard. The Duergar could ride the steeders, quite effectively in fact. Suddenly smug with confidence, I walked to the pens.

There were seven orc slaves tending the herd. Orcs had no inherent knowledge of these beasts, but the Duergar trader had left specific instructions on how to handle and feed them, and the slaves followed them to the letter. I am sure they kept the mounts well fed, so as not to become food themselves.

The steeders resemble giant...and in that word I mean nightmarish, tarantulas. Large enough for a drow to mount comfortably, these remarkable arachnids would prove very useful for scouting and, should the "unthought-of" occur, war. Looking at a large group of them for the first time...and looking at them from the perspective of one that would mount and ride them, they seemed more ominous.

I motioned for a nearby slave to approach. He trotted over and introduced himself as.... well, imagine the sound you make when you cough...that was his name. He pointed to the other slaves one by one, coughing once for each.  I shrugged and nodded, explaining that I was the new z'haruk and that I wished to test out one from the herd. His eyes darted back and forth over a slightly opened jaw before unleashing a fit of coughs and wheezes and grunts that somehow conveyed to the others my intention. I chuckled and wondered why I had never picked up the elegant orcish tongue. 

In minutes they had produced a mount and riding utensils. The saddle was, of course, structured for a Duergar and proved to be a pain in the... well... you know. Grabbing my attention, however, was the riding whip. I smiled to no one in particular as I snatched it up and went through all-too-familiar motions of snapping it. For a brief moment I stared at it understanding for the first time the grace of the weapon, but...I was not here to play. The steeder, itself, looked fairly normal... for a steeder, anyway--eight legs, one body, one head. I had not been with them enough to pick out the subtle differences. Bracing a hand on the leg near the union of head and body, I stepped over...and became z'haruk

Balance on two legs is far easier to achieve than sitting on eight. Locking my knees tightly against the steeder, I slapped it firmly on it's hind side with the riding whip to set things into motion. Motion, and my first lesson in steeder handling, was instantaneous. Evidently a slap in that region means, "Hey, I bet you can't throw me off by jumping forward... say... fifteen feet." It could, and it did. My saving grace was... no... what kept the seven slaves alive that had assembled to watch this historic ride was the fact that I somehow managed to land on my feet, albeit a little surprised. If I had landed hard, sprawled out on the ground, even the most disciplined rothe would have had trouble containing their amusement. Then, of course, I would have had to kill them. You just can't let stories like that leak.

Fortunately for me and for them, and for the steeder come to think of it, I was able to keep it from looking too ridiculous. I walked the short distance to my mount, my mind searching for a better idea to get things moving this time. Lifting myself up onto the beast's back again, I had to wonder if he (she?) had thought it funny. Saving that thought for later, I decided to see if pressure was the key for movement. I pushed into its side with my right leg... gently, this time. At once a sideways crawl in the opposite direction was initiated. Hmmmmm. Yes, it turned out, a squeeze from my left leg made it crawl right. Happy now, in my one-dimensional world, I made it go back and forth several times.

Chewing on my lower lip, not for flavor, but for inspiration, I decided to try a kick. Again, thinking less was more I gently prodded it with my right foot. We slowly lumbered forward. No... not lumbered, for the animal was in a sense smooth. The movement was more up and down for me. Not jerky, but it would take some getting used to. Nevertheless, I had discovered how to make it move. 

I led the steeder around the perimeter of the cavern. Not trusting the Duergar-made saddle to hold me, I forewent any wall climbing or roof-hanging. That could wait. For now, I needed to concentrate on the basics of movement. Several times I felt I had countered the up-down motion of riding with a down-up motion of my own, but there had to be an easier way. The motion would have to be overcome for any hope of accuracy for crossbows or, possibly, casting spells. I really was not skilled in either of the Arts, so I would have to get some second opinions on whether or not mounted spell craft would even be feasible. 

Satisfied that I had learned enough for one day, I steered the arachnid back to the pens and coughed for a slave to meet us there and put her (him?) up. Knowing that the slaves would now only remember my misguided leap from earlier, I decided it would be a good idea to leave them with a sense of confidence in the Qu’ellar Z'haruk. I tried to gauge the distance as best I could. Choosing my spot, I gripped the steeder as tightly as I could with my legs and slapped it squarely on its hindquarters.

The leap was so quick it nearly caught me by surprise again, but I managed to hold on... which was unfortunate. While I had gauged the distance well, in that we landed scant feet from the slave waiting to put the beast up, I had not given thought beforehand to the landing itself. 

My second lesson did not deal as much with the steeder as the saddle. It would have to be redesigned quickly, and, definitely, before I rode again. Being taller than the Duergar it was designed for, I did not fit in it properly. I had smartly avoided walking on the walls and ceiling because I knew the little seat would not hold me... it would not hold me very well in a jump either. I missed that one. The sudden force of the landing threw me forward. My legs held somewhat, and, because of that, allowed me to slam my crotch with unimagined force down onto the small area of the steeder where the body and head meet. Yes... ouch.

Sliding off of the mount before the pain rendered me numb, I stood as straight as I could and concentrated all of my being on swallowing the bile that was pumping into my stomach and up toward my throat. An uncontrollable cough sent orcs scurrying to do who knows what. Thankfully, they were out of sight when I limped to my quarters.

Lying on my new bed I saw that learning the ropes like this would take forever... and certainly, if you will, had its down side. I was not sure of the Ilharess' timetable for this project...but I assumed it was something she wanted completed in her lifetime, so I decided that I should seek advice. From whom, though? Oh... of course. I slowly rolled over onto my side, moaned once, and fell asleep.

I began the next morning very stiff. The taste of bile was still fresh in my mouth from the previous day. It would have been a grand morning to sleep in. I moaned one last time as I stood and removed yesterday's clothes. It seems that in my haste for unconsciousness I had neglected to undress. Turning to my small wardrobe I then made the first of several crucial decisions every drow makes each morning. Let's see... gold and black... black and gold... gold and black... Finally I was able to narrow my choices down to a black and gold uniform.

I moved to the table for some fruit and bread. I still was not accustomed to my larger surroundings and was slightly startled to see Tylek already seated. Not knowing that anyone was present I, of course, had done nothing to mask the dull pain in my groin. I favored each stride, walking slightly bow-legged as I moved from the bedroom to the eating room. Smirking somewhat that he had caught me off-guard, my friend nodded and greeted me. Immediately adopting a smooth stride that favored neither leg nor anything in-between, I carried myself to the table. I said vendui' and offered him the food that he had already eaten. He grunted a thanks, and I could tell that there was something wrong. Leaning an elbow on the table and biting into a melon I prodded, "What has the gall to trouble you so early in the morning, abbil^*2?"

He looked at me with somewhat defeated eyes and replied, "Naubol^*3...", shaking his head slowly, and seemed to be trying to remember something "...a misunderstanding with the Ilharess... but you know how those end up." He took in a deep breath and sighed it out, opening up his hands in an I'm-powerless-but-I-would-like-to-strangle-her-at-times look. He then looked at me, and we both chuckled hoping that the Ilharess was too busy too pick up on such random thoughts.

Chewing on, I said, "So you have come to speak to me about what happened?" I shrugged and took another bite after he failed to answer, "You know as well as I that she holds the fragile strands of our lives in her hands. Tylek, you are aware of your place as well as any. Our cares are secondary; the game has not changed. We merely are here to fulfill her wishes." I was somewhat concerned, now. He was acting odd.

"Yes, Venom", he sighed again, "her wishes are what brings me here this morning." Suddenly a mask of duty shrouded his previous thoughts, "I am to work in the stables." With that the mood was set. He was to work under me for displeasing the Ilharess. It was common, but it did not make it comfortable. We had both come to Elythanar for different reasons and by different paths... but at the same time. We had always been better at different things, but I had considered him somewhat my equal, and the respect he showed me told me he felt the same.

Turning my face to stone, a long-practiced skill that kept me from many a yathrin's ire, I chewed the last of my melon and said, "Let us begin."

We strode toward the steeder pens and found the orcs still eating around a small fire pit. They hurriedly finished up as they saw me approach and realized it was time for more "learning." I was sure that none of them wanted to miss a second of that.

For the rest of the day the slaves and Tylek went about various duties getting the stables in better order. I rode a bit, thought about how to change the saddle, and tried to imagine what the best uses for this branch of the force would be. Scouting was obvious. The steeders were much faster than the lizards I had seen used before. Faster and quieter. I still could not see how useful they would be in melee combat. Many races used mounts to gain vantage in battle, but most of our battles would be magical... and a permanently grounded mount was fairly useless for such. I still had not found out the feasibility of casting from their backs while moving, and since Tylek was here on a "special" errand, I would not consult with him on the matter. 

The end of the day brought no answers... but it did bring the Ilharess.

I had told Tylek to come to my quarters after he had finished eating with the slaves. He did, and in place of the frown he wore earlier in the morning was a sly smile. "The work is completed, and the slaves are finishing up eating." Pointing to just below my midsection he added, "I have heard of your accident." His smile spread slowly across his face, "I hope there was no permanent damage."

Instantly frowning, and knowing the answer already, I demanded, "Who told you?!" He related that during evening meal one of the slaves had acted out the event and subsequent shuffle-step back to my chambers. I frowned further... and then looked to him. "You said they were still eating?" He nodded. "Then I will need you to perform one more service for the stables, tonight, abbil," I smiled.

Stepping out of the door to my quarters, I placed my anger into a back corner of my mind. I would free it soon, but first I wanted to see the show. I had had Tylek cast a few spells on me so that I would look and speak like an orc. Not wanting to miss out on what would transpire, he cast one on himself that rendered him naked to the eye. Side by side, orc and wind, we walked out to the assembled slaves. As we approached most were finishing up their meal while one produced music by blowing air through a thin metallic box he held in his fist. I had never heard an orc play a harmonica before, and it made me think of a dragon in plate armor... noisy and unnecessary.

They looked at me and grunted as I entered their cozy circle.  This time, thanks to Tylek's spell, the grunts carried meanings. I produced a parchment I had earlier scribbled on and told them, in my newly acquired tongue, that I was to serve with them in the stables. The typical orc can't read, so my squiggles and dots looked as official as any they had seen. Sitting down, I coughed, "Which drow works the stables?"

"Our master is Bug-eyes," guffawed one, opening his eyes as wide as he could. The crowd, minus one, erupted in laughter.

"No, he is Red-face," grunted the one with the harmonica, bulging his already grotesque face, covering his groin with both hands, and doing an evidently practiced shuffle-step toward me. I bore down to keep the anger contained, somehow managed a grin and coughed and wheezed laughter with the rest of them.

Suddenly one of them raised his fist near his head, a sign for them to all stop making noise, which they did. Curious faces searched the surrounding area and then him. "I thought I heard a drow laughing," he explained. I gritted my back teeth hard and cursed Tylek silently. Surmising, incorrectly I should add, that the danger was gone they alternately cursed and threw everything but food at the clairaudient one.

The orcs soon went back to eating, and the one with the mastered impersonation began bending out notes on his harmonica again. Oh yes, and then the Ilharess appeared... flanked by two of her guards... and a stranger.

I was the first to see her, well, probably the second. Tylek was far too attuned to the magical ebb and flow to have come in second. Regardless, the orcs were oblivious to her for a moment too long as they ate and played music.

"VENORSH!!!^*4" she commanded, as only an Ilharess can.

The orcs turned in mid-chew to see who was coming, all the orcs, save the one on the harmonica who was lost in the rapturous frenzy of free-play. Reflexively, I dropped to one knee, bowed my head low and greeted her. I heard Tylek's voice, and felt a tingle as the spell dissolved around me, revealing me as drow.

The four visitors walked to the edge of the circle of slaves. Those that had been eating dropped their food and their bodies to the ground, kneeling in front of the matron of the house. The musician, eyes still shut tightly as he played, was oblivious to the unfolding scene.

"You do not greet your Ilharess, slave?" the female hissed in a low tone. "Silence that horrendous device and kneel before me." 

The orc playing the music stopped as his eyes opened upon the Ilharess and her escorts. Seeing all but himself prone on the ground, he gaped wide-eyed and slack-jawed at her. His body trembled; her words had not reached his ear, had not translated. His mouth opened several times quickly, and it was obvious he was frozen in fear, not knowing what to do. 

Sensing my moment, I released the anger I had caged in the far corner of my mind. The anger came out, neither in a scream nor in violence, but merely a helpful whisper. "She said 'play it louder'."

*1.  Riding Master.
*2.  Friend.
*3.  Nothing.
*4.  "Silence!"