The whipping had stopped, but then he suddenly became entrapped by silken webbing. Unable to move, he gritted his teeth as his mother began to carve a pattern onto his back with a dagger she kept in her belt. Tull could feel every cut and slice. His blood he felt drip down his back to soak his shirt and pants.

Still, he didn't scream. He concentrated on the rage he was feeling at the moment and held on to that single emotion with all his will. He didn't sense anything or anyone else. Somewhere in the distance, he heard his mother call out for some salt. Not ever wanting to harm his mother, whatever she did to him, Tull sent all his anger and mental energies to some unfortunate male’s mind. He didn't know if his last and single attack hit home.

The young drow noble barely kept his consciousness from slipping back into the abyss. But suddenly a pain more unbearable than he had ever given or received broke through his mental block and forced him to scream out his soul and agony. He screamed and screamed until he thought his throat and voice would forever sing out those sounds. Then just as sudden, he fell to his knees as his mother dispelled the strands, dropping him to the floor. He took his time to regain what strength he could put into his legs.

*She is probing your thoughts, Tull,* the unknown counselor whispered in his mind. He couldn't deal with that at the moment, but his ‘mental friend’ did. Tull didn't know what was sent, but deep down... if he ever found out... it was something he had been thinking of late.

As he stood, he saw the dagger in his mother's hand flash forward to impale itself in his chest and then to pierce his heart. Tull didn't even have the strength or will to show shock at the sudden explosion of pain in his chest. All he could do was look into his mother's eyes as he felt himself crumple to the floor, his eyes growing dark until he was suddenly alone in the dark...

Thick liquid met crystal and formed a pinkish paste as a scream of pain broke the silence. The hanging form jerked as muscles twitched and tried to twist away from the burning sensation until finally consciousness left the body. Mavralyn's cruel smile belied the affectionate caress as she sent healing power into the limp form. Wiping her hands upon her son's torn shirt, she returned to the throne and dispelled the strands that held him. Only a few moments passed before the crumpled figure regained enough strength to rise on unsteady feet.

Mavralyn sensed that something still twisted her son from what he once was. His thoughts reached her mental probing and her fury consumed the last of her rational thought. In less than a heartbeat, the jeweled dagger used to carve Tull's back, buried itself to the hilt in his chest. As the dagger left her hand, realization swept over her and Mavralyn prayed to her goddess. Lloth answered, as time seemed to speed up for the matron and hastened her next actions.

Quickly Mav reached into the bag she always carried with her and pulled out a yellowed scroll. Able to read the arcane scribbles in the dim lighting, she summoned the inherent magic of the ancient parchment. As time resumed its normal speed for the drowess, a glow surrounded the dying form of Tullarix as time stopped for her son.

No one moved or broke the deadly silence as all eyes stared in shock at the body of Tull lying there with a dagger sprouting from his chest. The absence of heat and the stoppage of flowing blood were the only signs that his still form was magically kept from death. Tylek was the first to break the stillness as he tentatively moved forward to kneel before Mavralyn. Quietly he offered a chance to restore Tull before death took the elder boy completely.

The Ilharess merely nodded her agreement for the attempt.

The eldest son of Mavralyn lay there unmoving, his bleeding body on the very edge of death...

"Now, Malla Ilharess?" Tylek asked. In response, Mav gave a barely perceptible nod. Ty sighed as he readied himself to cast this particular spell again. He had only used it once before.

Ty moved to Tull's body slowly, thinking of his breathing. Long, slow breaths to clear and calm the mind. Then, his hands began to move through the air in front of him, and over Tull. He spoke low, twisted, and ancient words, calling forth the power to undo time itself. Concentration caused beads of sweat to stand out on the newly appointed wizard’s face and neck. Beads that quickly began to flow, soaking his shirt and cloak alike.

No one moved while the spell was being cast. It seemed even the Matron herself held still so as not to disturb the caster. And then, the air coalesced and shimmered around Tull, warping the image of him to the untrained eyes of those around. To Ty, it was a hole in time, a hole that Tull must be guided through to the right spot.

Suddenly, the shimmering dispersed, and the wounds on Tull's back were bleeding and salted again. The wound in his heart, however, was gone completely. It seemed, he had gone from torture, to death to torment. Tull groaned in renewed pain as he time returned to normal for him. His breathing picked up, and his heart again began to beat.

Tylek, completely exhausted, simply dropped to his knees...

Farenth listened from among the crowd below the dais. She nodded to herself in approval at the choices her Ilharess made on who to promote. She watched as Mavralyn called Tullarix to kneel before her, watching the male, taking note of his behavior, his actions. She had been watching him a lot lately, and this morning she had decided to make him her khel-kyorl. She had told him just prior to this meeting that he was her choice. She was confident that he would prove apt for the position, although she was still concerned about his attitude towards the Ilharess. She smiled slightly as Mavralyn gave him his new orders. 

*He needs to stay around here awhile, with all the work that still needs to be done. We need all the hands we can get to restore the city to its former glory,* she thought. 

As she watched, she saw Tull tense at what the Ilharess commanded of him. *Now why does that upset him,* she wondered. She didn't think about it further as she watched the ensuing confrontation. The whip lashed out, and she saw with shock that Tull raised his arm in defense of the blow. The whip lashed out several more times, and though he didn't move to block the blows, she frowned as she saw him maintain silence. 

"The fool," she cursed softly, ignoring the looks of surprise from those near her. 

She saw the Matron's eyes flash with rage at her son’s silence. Farenth began to grow angry herself, infuriated at the insolence of the male she had chosen as her bodyguard. She growled deep in her throat as she saw Mavralyn set aside her whip and draw her blade, and begin to carve a design upon Tull's back. 

*Will he never learn!* Her mind screamed. *Is getting his way worth the pain he gets for his arrogance?* 

As she watched the blood flow from the emerging design, she hoped he would let out a scream of pain, and just forget about his foolish ambitions. She watched as the Ilharess called for her salt, as furious as Mavralyn at Tull's continued silence. She caught a glimpse of one of the males on the dais collapsing, but couldn't identify the face, her gaze too focused on Tull. 

Mavralyn began to rub the salt into the bleeding wounds of Tull's back, and a piercing scream lanced through the great chamber as the salt made contact. Tull fell limp within the magical bonds about him, falling to the floor as they were dispelled. Her fury seemed to grow as she watched him force himself to his feet. For some unknown reason, she was embarrassed that she had chosen such a male as her bodyguard. 

Her mind whispered *you were a fool to choose him,* and it infuriated her more, because she could not, would not change her mind, would not make public that she had been wrong. *He will know my fury soon,* she told herself. *He will feel MY rage at his foolishness.*

She gasped and her anger dimmed as she saw the bloodied blade fly from Mavralyn's hand, burying itself to the hilt into Tull's heart. "No," she whispered. She watched in shock as Tull began to sink to the floor, as Mavralyn desperately grabbed for a scroll from the satchel she had left beside the throne. Her eyes widened in surprise as Mavralyn read from the scroll, stopping the flow of blood from Tull's chest. *?* She found herself moving to the foot of the dais, and stopped herself at the front of the gathering. 

She looked down at the body of her chosen-one, seemingly frozen in time. He wasn't bleeding, he wasn't breathing, there was nothing. *What?* she thought, as she looked up and saw Tylek look at Mavralyn and quietly offer to try and restore Tull to life. The Ilharess nodded, and Tylek approached the still form of Tull. She watched as power began to build around the newly promoted Qu'el'Faeruk. The air began to shimmer about Tull, and she found it hard to focus on his still form. 

Suddenly, the chest wound was gone, and Tull groaned in pain from the wounds upon his back. Tylek dropped to his knees in exhaustion as Tull began to breath again. Farenth found herself moving to Tylek's side, making sure he was all right. At his weak nod, she moved to the moaning form of Tull, and her anger flared again, this time that he would be so foolish as to get himself killed. She slowly looked up at Mavralyn and gave her a questioning look. 

"May I deal with him from here Malla Ilharess?" she asked in a voice quiet with pent up rage.

Mavralyn nodded abruptly.

Looking about the chamber, Farenth spotted two servants nearby. "Come here," she commanded. When they knelt down before her, she rose and turned her back to Tull and headed to the doors out of the chamber. "Bring him," was all she said, as she walked out of the chamber.  Her silent fury caused all to move out of her way as the servants followed with Tull’s limp and bleeding form...

Mavralyn felt drained from the released anger, yet there was still one more announcement to make.  Turning her gaze towards the females, she noticed that the newest arrival stood among them again.  Apparently the brief rest from Orbb's misplaced portal had benefited the young drowess.  The Ilharess gestured for Orbb to move forward and kneel, ignoring the brief flash of consternation that appeared on the younger female’s face.

"I have been keeping an eye on you Orbb Solen.  I am pleased with what I've seen so far."  The words did nothing to reassure Orbb nor did they hint at what the Matron might intend for her abrupt arrival amidst the assembled drow.  When Mavralyn continued, a wave of dizziness swept over Orbb as realization sank in.

“I have chosen to adopt you Orbb, and you are to be my daughter... once we have completed the ceremony.  I will meet with you in my private chapel on the third rising of Narbondel.  Rise now Ust Dalharil^*1 d'Xol'Niaren."  With this pronouncement made, Mavralyn rose with a dismissive nod to the assembly and swept out of the throne room.

*1.  First Daughter: a coveted position among the females of a House.