After the two servants removed the unconscious Orbb, Mavralyn's gaze traveled back over the assembled drow. Pausing a moment before speaking, her eyes lingered on the muscular form of Venom. Then with her usual abruptness, she let her voice ring out in command.

"The Tier Breche is now habitable. Ilinditha, you will move to the Arach-Tinilith and take charge of training our jalilen^*1. From this day forward, you are Ulathtallar d'Arach-Tinilith^*2.”

"Shadosin, your knowledge and skills in the arcane are well noted. You will move to the Sorcere and take charge of training in the arcane arts as the Ul'Faeruk^*3. It is also your job to see that the dark spire of Narbondel is returned to its former function.”

Then her eyes fell upon a new arrival. A seasoned veteran, the drow male had appeared out of seemingly nowhere and helped in the battle. His unexpected aid was the reason Ilinditha still lived. Mavralyn smiled slightly and continued without a noticeable pause in her announcements, "Chaxarl, for your timely arrival and the skills you have shown, you will move to the Melee-Magthere and take charge as the Ul'Saruk^*4.

Pausing a moment to let her eyes pass judgment on the small group, Mavralyn was well pleased at their unquestioning loyalty. Again her husky voice spoke out, "Tylek, you will come kneel before me."

As the small mage knelt she let a sly smile cross her features. Signing to Venom, she ordered him to bring her a box she'd given to him earlier. When he approached and waited, Mavralyn looked out over Ty's head before continuing.

"You have shown great perseverance in your studies Tylek. I have spoken to Shado of you as well," the factual tones sent a shiver of apprehension through the kneeling form. Taking the box from Ven, Mavralyn opened it and pulled out an unmarked amulet of quality mithril. Placing it over the mage's head her words seemed to ring in his mind, "To you I give the first qu'ilinsar for you to fashion others from. That is your first duty as well as seeing to the wards of this House. You may rise, Qu’el’Faeruk."

Amusement sparkled in the sapphire depths as the words spoken finally registered on the handsome face. A fierce look of pride flashed across the male’s features for a brief moment as he rose, then quickly hidden as he bowed low and took his new place.

Again the Matron looked upon the gathering and singled out another to come up to the throne, "Zorbock, come kneel before me."  Without hesitation, the male strode forward and knelt with head bowed low. Mavralyn looked down on the lowered head and allowed a small smile to appear. This male was fanatical in his defense of house and matron.

"I am pleased with your performance during the past several weeks Zorbock. Since our weapons master, Uro, fell during the battle, I have a need to replace him as Saruk. I have chosen you for this honored position."  Removing a familiar ring from some hidden pocket, the matron reached for his hand and placed the heavy band upon Zor's finger. "You may rise now Qu'el'Saruk and take up your new duties."  With a fell grin appearing briefly, Zorbock rose and moved swiftly to the place where Uro had once stood.

Mavralyn returned her attention to the gathered house. Many had fallen in the battle to claim this cavern of rich possibilities. Her gaze landed on the one golden head in the sea of white and silver and a slight frown touched her brow. Tull's earlier exploration of the area proved truly useful in forming the strategy to take the cavern. Yet, since his return from that journey, something bothered the young Matron about her eldest son. She could not put her finger on the exact problem. His sullen behavior over the loss of a favored slave she understood and knew he would get over quickly. This went deeper.

Not quite insolent, not outright arrogance, but something burned within the male that Mavralyn sensed could explode into a nasty situation if not defused quickly. She had no intention of sending the golden haired son of Ryltarl to serve the goddess just yet. The Ilharess still needed his many skills to help in the growth of this new city. Letting the long shapely nails tap on the obsidian arm of the throne, she considered what to do with him.

"Tullarix, come kneel before me."  Her frown grew deeper as Tull hesitated just a moment before moving swiftly and kneeling in front of his matron mother. Though no expression showed on the haughty features, he let his eyes linger briefly before lowering them.

"You have done well my son," Mavralyn's tone revealed none of her inner thoughts. "I wish for you to remain within the city and help in the discoveries as well as the building. No more of your jaunts to the surface for a time until much more is completed."  The brief flash of anger that crossed Tull's face did not go unnoticed by the drowess. Ignoring it for the moment, her husky voice softened slightly, "When we are stronger and more settled, then you may continue with your explorations, my son. They have proved very useful lately. I have decided you will be our Colb'algaruk. Much as those of the surface know the lands above, so you have learned the paths of the Underdark."

Watching her son carefully this time, she saw a struggle within him. She could tell the unique position did not suit his ambitions. One silver brow rose in mild surprise at the almost rebellious look that showed in the lavender eyes.

Mavralyn's words took on a neutral tone as she indicated Tull could rise, "You do not seem pleased with your new duties my son. Speak, what is it you seek that I have not already given you."  The battle within the young male became evident as he evaluated and cast aside several things in response to the casual seeming inquiry. Ambition, frustration, and anger, warred with his instinct for survival. Then ambition won as words poured forth with an intensity unusual in Tull's normal manner.

Mavralyn watched incredulously as her son spoke eloquently and almost arrogantly of the magic called psionics and the forming of another school for the academy. Leaning back in the throne she only caught the meaning and thought of the impassioned speech as her quick mind grasped the opportunities this mental magic might have. She knew of the powers of the mind flayers, yet never considered that the drow might also develop this ability. Indeed it seemed her son's ambition was as strong as her own.

Orbb drifted slowly up out of unconsciousness. Two slaves attended her, as she lay back in a warm bath. Her wounds were only dull aches now, she realized. The room was strange, though, and for a moment Orbb wondered what had happened. Then, memory of the past few weeks returned to her.

The last thing she remembered was stumbling into the Ilharess' throne room through a portal that had somehow gone awry. She remembered now the anger in the Ilharess' voice, and knew that she had said something, but not exactly what that had been. Then she had lost the last of her strength and control, and had slipped into unconsciousness.

She wondered for a moment about the portal. It had never done anything like that before. Something must have affected it, she thought. She tried to puzzle it out, but no answer came to her, and she realized that her mind still felt a bit foggy.

Angry and annoyed at not being able to think straight, Orbb rose abruptly from the bath, shoving the slaves out of her way. Stepping out of the tub, one had enough boldness to wrap a warm towel about her slender form. A quick glare, however, made the slave step back quickly.

Orbb crossed the bathing chamber and went out into the main room. Her eyes took in the scene in a glance, taking note of the large couch as well as the relatively new wall hangings. By the door, a young servant stood, staring at his feet. Behind her, the slaves scurried into the room. One went to a tall cabinet and pulled out a clean robe for her to wear, while the other stood by the vanity, waiting with a brush.

Orbb looked over the servant, and thought about taking her anger out on the young male. In a moment, however, she had decided against the idea. She was still weary from the trip through the warped portal. She crossed to sit at the vanity, instead, and allowed the slave to brush out the tangles in her hair. It did so with care, not yanking her hair in the least. Finally beginning to relax, Orbb turned her eyes on the male, still staring at his feet.

"Come here," she commanded.

He came and knelt at her feet, eyes still down cast. 

"Now, you have a message for me?" She asked, smiling at his nervousness.

"Xas, malla yathrin," came the small voice; "The honored Matron requests that you join her in the throne room."

Orbb stiffened slightly at the message. She had no desire to meet Mavralyn again so soon, considering how angry she probably still was at Orbb's sudden, unannounced entrance. Orbb covered her nervousness by waving the servant away and crossing to where the slave had laid out her robe on the couch.

"You may go and tell the Ilharess I shall be right there," she dismissed the servant."

The male scurried out of the room with all due speed, even as the slaves began to dress and do her hair. Orbb frowned, wondering what the Ilharess Mavralyn had planned for her, and the slaves began to dress her more quickly.

Orbb entered the throne room to find the entire house assembled, and the Ilharess engaged in an argument with Tullarix, her eldest son. She ignored the scene, quietly taking her place, and waited for whatever was to come.

Tull stood there and listened to his mother promote and give those in attendance their responsibilities. Tylek was now to take over as Xol'Niaren's House Wizard since Shadosin was promoted to the position of Arch Wizard at Sorcere. He listened as Mavralyn gave Tylek the task of creating the House sigils for everyone. Tull then listened as his mother appointed Zorbock -- loyal Zorbock – as the House Weapons Master. He didn't know who was more surprised, everyone there or Zorbock, but he took the promotion to heart and pledge to his mother that she'd be getting the best from him. *Another on your path to power*, the voice whispered in his mind.

"You may rise now Qu'el'Saruk and take up your new duties." Mavralyn moved her gaze to Tull as Zorbock moved to take his place as Qu’el’Saruk.
She looked at him and waited, as if trying to see something in his body language and/or facial expression. Tull felt as if he was being felt up and down by something unseen. He concentrated on the building rage inside him and kept his face from betraying anything.

"Tullarix come kneel before me," she spoke as her long, shapely lacquered nails tapped the arm of her throne. Tull hesitated at her formal tone, wondering if he should prepare himself for some pain. Tull steeled himself for the worst and walked forward to kneel on his left knee in front of his seated mother. He decided to lower his eyes and not give her any more fuel for her anger. 

"You have done well my son," again her tone was cool and formal, something Tull rarely heard from his mother when she spoke to him. "I wish for you to remain within the city and help in the discoveries as well as the building.  No more of your jaunts to the surface for a time until much more is completed."

Tull's eyes went up suddenly at her statement. *No more trips to the surface?!* His mind reeled and his face betrayed every thought that went through his head. Unable to contain the building rage in him, Tull stiffened where he knelt, his eyes beginning to glow in the faintly illuminated chamber. 

"When we are stronger and more settled, then you may continue with your explorations, my son.  They have proved very useful lately.  I have decided you will be lil Colb'algaruk.  Much as those of the surface know the lands above, so you have learned the paths of the Underdark." This time Tull heard a softening of her voice. Not close to what he was used to, yet it wasn't cool either. But, the voice in his head said otherwise.

*Pathfinder. She offers you to be a pathfinder while she offers these others stations of power and prestige,* Tull's anger was beginning to show. It was now evident to everyone in the room, especially to Mavralyn that Tull did not enjoy what he just heard. He visibly tried to control his emotions from running away fully, but it was to no avail. His body stiffened more than it was already.

Mavralyn arched an eyebrow in his direction, "You do not seem pleased with your new duties my son.  Speak, what is it you seek that I have not already given you." Tull barely heard her with the buzzing in his mind becoming louder and louder. He had to try and recall what she asked, before coming up with a reply. *Your new mind abilities. That is your path to power*, now he knew.

"Colb'algaruk, mother? I do that already. There's no need to remind me of those responsibilities. There are other things which I covet from you, mother," Tull's voice came out clear and concise; free of the rage he was feeling inside. "I suggest that I be given permission to create a new school within Tier-Breche."

"A new school? What new school are you thinking about, Tull. I believe all the skills are covered with the three already set up in Tier-Breche," Mavralyn explained, her voice conveying her displeasure at the tone Tull was speaking in. "Is there some ability that I forgot to add to the academies, my son?"

"The prisoner that helped in battle, Noir Morte, he uses mind powers called psionics. I use this ability as well and, I am sure that there will be more to come," He cautiously began his explanation. He held back on informing his mother that she too possessed psionics, although this power seemed latent in her. "Shouldn't the powers of the mind that I use be considered an ability separate from those already being taught in Tier-Breche?  I think so." Tull didn't notice the sudden motions and gasps within the chamber.

"I suggest a fourth academy be created to teach those with the potential of the mind to learn how to use these powers..." he was cut-off with a brisk wave from Mavralyn.

"Enough, Tull. This new school will fall under the Sorcere and you may work with any others you find to study this mental magic. Now, I shall move on to the next business at hand," Mavralyn ended the discussion, but it would seem that Tull did not see it as so.

"But mother, psionics is not of the Art. How can you seriously think that Shado will know how to oversee its teachings? One who is adept in using the ability must oversee it. Only Noir and I are adept enough to accomplish the task. You cannot really believe that psionics is magic..." Tull saw the sudden movement of his mother's hand to the whip at her side. More on instinct and less common sense, Tull raised his arm to ward off the strike he knew was coming.

The snake heads hissed forward and struck his raised arm, their poisoned fangs sinking in deep into the flesh of his forearm, some even going as deep as to strike bone. He kept a scream of pain from escaping his lips, and more so when Mavralyn savagely pulled the whip away. The fangs ripped away pieces of his flesh as they were pulled sharply back. He saw his mother's eyes flash in full fury at his attempt to block the first strike. Tull glanced around and saw that the other yathrinen, who were there in the assembly, had hands on their own whips, but held back as they watched the Matron. Before Mavralyn could strike again, he lowered his arm and waited stoically for the next lash. And come they did.

Mavralyn slowly nodded as her son finally concluded his impassioned speech.  With a decisive note she directed her words to all in the chamber, "This new school will fall under the Sorcere and you may work with any others you find to study this mental magic."  Her gaze fell upon her son again and noticed the heat of anger suffusing his features.  As he blurted out his thoughts on her decision, contradicting her orders, time seemed to stop as rage filled Mavralyn.

Before any other priestess could move, the matron was up with her hissing weapon striking towards the male.  Tull's reflexes were automatic as an arm came up trying to protect his face.  Dripping fangs sank deep into the exposed arm, injecting the burning poison that paralyzed.  Mav jerked back on the whip, ripping the fangs from his arm and tearing the ebony flesh in merciless anger.

Enraged at the arrogance of the male as he sank to his knees with a look of concentration the agitated heads again hurtled towards Tull.  This time he did not raise his arm as the snakes found their target through the thin material of his shirt.  No sound or wince of pain escaped the stoic figure, which only increased the fury blazing in his mother's eyes.  Again the fangs tore flesh, as the whip jerked back, yet still it seemed as if the weapon granted her by Lloth did not affect the young drow.

Seeming to calm herself, the whip still writhed in agitation.  A sure sign the bland expression on Mavralyn's face was only outward as she placed the weapon back at her side.  Turning back towards Tull, her eyes still blazed in outraged anger as her hands began an intricate dance.  Arcane words took wing from the garnet lips and appeared in glowing symbols before taking on a physical form.  Silvery silken strands twisted about in the air and twined about her son.  When the spell was complete, his stretched out form seemed to hang in mid air, the blood from his wounds seeping through the ripped material of his shirt and dripping down from the ravaged arm.

Languidly she moved about Tull and drew a small, jeweled dagger from its sheath.  Cutting away the ruined shirt, Mavralyn soon looked upon the smooth, unblemished back of her son.  Focusing all her attention upon the play of muscles and ripple of flesh, she brought the tip of the weapon up to lightly touch the dark skin.  Softly she began chanting, summoning the favor of her goddess as the weapon sank into flesh and muscle.  Tuning out all but her work, a design slowly formed on Tull's back as blood oozed from the many cuts.  Still no scream of anguish broke the silence in the throne room.  Only harsh breathing indicated any sign that the male felt anything.

Without looking up from her gruesome artwork, Mav's voice snapped out an order, "Fetch me salt."  The body before her tensed in response, causing the blood to flow faster from the forming pattern.  One last flourish of the dripping weapon and the Ilharess stepped back to admire the finished creation.  Not looking to see who had carried out her command, the drowess accepted the small pouch of salt and opened it.  Scooping out the white crystals, she began rubbing the salt into the carving on Tull's back.  The instant the salt met wound, the sound she waited for arrived as her dalharuk gave voice to his torment.

*1.  Females.
*2.  Arch Priestess of Arach-Tinilith. Similar to "Mother Superior".
*3.  Arch Wizard.
*4.  Arch Weapons Master, Commander of the Armies.