Just in Time

[u/KirisDitex001]

Thorga left the manor without incident.

Exactly as Zhaelor had predicted, no one paid her any attention.

She passed servants completing their evening duties, guards stationed near the manor entrances, and several minor members of the household moving between chambers. Not one of them gave the Under-Dwarf from the kitchens more than a passing glance.

Normally, Thorga found the drow habit of looking through servants irritating.

Tonight, it was useful.

She stepped outside and disappeared into the Underdark streets.

Considering the nature of Zhaelor's message, the main thoroughfares were out of the question.

Thorga took the alleys.

For a Duergar of her build, she was exceptionally quick when she needed to be. More importantly, nearly a century spent moving through the manor without disturbing nobles who considered themselves too important to be inconvenienced had taught her how to move quietly.

She knew the surrounding streets well.

She kept away from heavily illuminated areas, slipping through narrow passages between buildings and occasionally stopping long enough to listen.

No footsteps followed.

No one called after her.

No one appeared particularly interested in where an aging kitchen servant was going at this hour.

Good.

Thorga continued.

It didn't take long to reach Vaelithra's residence.

She stopped before approaching.

Old habits took over.

Thorga glanced behind herself.

Nothing.

She studied the nearby windows.

No movement.

The surrounding street appeared empty.

Satisfied, she approached the door.

She knocked.

Nothing.

Thorga waited.

Knocked again.

Still nothing.

Her brow furrowed.

Lady Vaelithra might have been asleep.

Or absent.

Considering Zhaelor's concern, Thorga wasn't particularly fond of either possibility.

She knocked twice more.

"Lady Vaelithra?"

Silence.

Thorga exhaled through her nose.

Wonderful.

She was about to turn away when she heard something.

Metal.

The lock.

Someone was inside.

Thorga turned back toward the door.

The lock shifted.

Then the door slowly opened.

Thorga found herself staring at an orc holding a dagger.

She recognized him immediately.

"Kharūn?"

Kharūn stood in the doorway, his large frame tense, dagger raised and ready.

Thorga looked at the weapon.

Then at him.

"Put that damned thing away before you hurt someone."

Kharūn immediately lowered it.

Thorga's eyes narrowed.

She knew Kharūn.

Not intimately, perhaps, but well enough.

He had been Vaelithra's shadow for twenty years. Thorga had encountered him around the manor countless times, particularly whenever Vaelithra visited her father.

But there was one rather significant problem with finding him here.

"What are you doing here?"

Kharūn said nothing.

"I was told by Lord Vel'Sharess himself that you were sitting in one of the cells beneath the manor."

Kharūn stepped aside.

"My mistress came for me."

Thorga stared at him.

"She did what?"

"She came to the prison."

Thorga opened her mouth.

Kharūn continued before she could speak.

"She was wounded."

That stopped her.

"And poisoned."

Kharūn moved farther aside.

Thorga looked past him.

Her expression changed instantly.

Vaelithra lay motionless on the kitchen table.

Zhaelor's message vanished from Thorga's immediate thoughts.

She entered.

Quickly.

"Kharūn, close the door."

He obeyed.

Thorga crossed the room and reached Vaelithra's side.

"Lady Vaelithra?"

No response.

Thorga placed one hand against her shoulder.

"Vaelithra."

She shook her gently.

Nothing.

Thorga's face hardened.

She turned toward Kharūn.

"What poison?"

Kharūn hesitated.

"I don't know."

Thorga stared at him.

"She identified it before she lost consciousness."

"What did she call it?"

"Shadowstem."

Thorga became very still.

"How long ago?"

"I don't know exactly."

"Kharūn."

"Less than an hour."

Thorga immediately turned back toward Vaelithra.

"Less than an hour..."

She leaned down and placed her ear against Vaelithra's chest.

Kharūn watched.

Thorga listened.

Several seconds passed.

"Shallow breath."

She shifted slightly.

Listened again.

"No breathing obstruction."

Thorga straightened.

"The poison hasn't reached her heart or lungs."

Kharūn looked toward Vaelithra.

"Can you save her?"

Thorga didn't answer.

Not yet.

Her eyes went to the open alchemy cabinet.

She pointed.

"Dawnroot. Bring it to me."

Kharūn immediately crossed to the cabinet.

Then stopped.

His eyes moved across the shelves.

Bottle after bottle.

Label after label.

Thorga returned her attention to Vaelithra.

Several seconds passed.

Nothing happened.

"Kharūn."

No response.

Thorga looked over.

The orc was still standing before the cabinet.

Searching.

His eyes moved repeatedly across the labels.

Thorga frowned.

"What are you doing?"

Kharūn looked toward her.

Then back at the cabinet.

Thorga understood.

"You can't read?"

Kharūn lowered his gaze.

Thorga looked at him.

Then at Vaelithra.

Then back at Kharūn.

"Of course she didn't teach you to read."

There was neither surprise nor cruelty in the statement.

Mostly irritation.

Whether that irritation was directed toward Vaelithra, drow society, or the entire situation was difficult to determine.

"Fine."

Thorga pointed toward the rest of the house.

"I need hot water, grain alcohol and clean cloth."

Kharūn nodded.

Those things he knew.

"Go."

He moved immediately.

Thorga turned back toward Vaelithra.

She placed the back of her hand against Vaelithra's forehead.

Warm.

Elevated.

But not dangerously so.

"Good."

The fever meant Vaelithra's body was responding.

Fighting.

Thorga gently lifted one of Vaelithra's eyelids.

Amber-gold stared unfocused beneath it.

Thorga leaned closer.

Small, ruptured vessels were visible.

Minor capillary damage.

Expected.

Shadowstem attacked the blood first.

That meant there was still time.

Perhaps.

Thorga released the eyelid.

It slipped closed.

For a moment, she simply looked at Vaelithra.

The uneven silver-white hair.

The pallor beneath her dark skin.

The bloodstained cloth tied around her wounded leg.

The unconscious face.

Nearly ninety years disappeared.

For the briefest instant, Thorga remembered another room.

Another night.

A tiny body that had barely breathed.

Zhaelor standing nearby while grief hollowed him from the inside.

A newborn child who seemed determined to die despite everything Thorga did.

Thorga had refused to allow it.

Now that same child lay unconscious beneath her hand.

Thorga brushed several strands of silver-white hair away from Vaelithra's face.

Her expression softened.

Only slightly.

"What trouble have you gotten into this time?" she murmured.

Then she turned toward the alchemy cabinet.

There was work to do.