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Caught once again in the limbo of delirium, Mikaril faintly heard Kyil's voice, but had trouble telling just what it was he was saying. The noises were overwhelming; didn't Kyil hear any of them? He should have heard them and tried to hide; that would have been the sensible thing. Why was his friend not making any sense? Or was he the one not making any sense, given the fact that he was somewhere between asleep and awake? Why did Kyil not run? Was it because of that contract that Haellara had slown him earlier? It was just a silly piece of paper; Kyil wasn't bound to that anymore than his shoe was bound to his foot.

A smattering of sound reached his ears: "What has my Mistress done to you?" He felt his thoughts float around inside of his head like tiny boats on a sea of red. Mistress? Oh yeah, Hael had bought him; that's what the contract was. But he himself was a part of House Torlyl, which made Haellara HIS mistress too, and that had done nothing to interfere with him constantly running away from his house and staying away for extended periods of time. Granted, back then Dilayne had been his mistress, and mild in comparison to Haellara, but it still went to show what he had learned long ago; mistress was just a title; it only had as much power as one gave it.

Turning his head to one side and opening his ear to the side of the rack that Kyil was on, he was able to pick up a little more. Healing things....his mind thought sluggishly. Haellara had healing things....on the shelf. But could Kyil tell a healing potion from a vial of poison? He wasn't doubting that the figure before him was his friend Kyil, but even he himself would be unable to identify the proper potion out of the scores his sister kept willy-nilly on her shelves, and he was given one nearly every.......day? Hour? He couldn't be sure. Time had passed for certain, but it had no meaning for him; without a way of keeping time, he had no idea if he had been stuck to this rack for a few hours, days, weeks, or even months. Most of his time here was a gigantic painful blur, with nothing to mark one day from the other.

Mikaril didn't see which bottle Kyil had chosen, but he supposed it didn't matter; he would just have to trust that Kyil had chosen well; it most certainly wouldn't have been the first time he had put total faith in his friend. He allowed his head to be raised without a struggle, and felt the liquid sliding down his throat, a cooling contrast to the burn of the liquid pain. He felt it spreading through his system like a river of water, putting out the fires that the drug had smoldered inside of him. Noises receded, colors became duller, then vanished altogether, and slowly but surely, the playroom came into focus. Keeping his head up, he looked down his body at his legs, where the holes were resuming their healing at a faster pace than before. It seemed like despite his sister giving him a healing potion before administering the drug, the foul stuff hampered the effects of the healing potion until it was either dispersed or it wore off. It had probably been her intention all along.

Soon the last hole closed up, and all that remained was the gouges in his back where the barbed hooks held him fast. The skin had healed around it, but instead of closing up the wound, the skin had simply closed itself around the barb, as though accepting it as a part of the drow's anatomy. They would remain as a dull ache until agitated, then they would flare up like an old wound, and he didn't even want to imagine what would happen if he ever tried to free himself. Enjoying the closest to whole he had been since he had arrived at the playroom, he looked up at his friend with calmer eyes. "How did you find me? What are you doing here? You should be hiding; Haellara could return at any time."

It HAD to be Kyil! The relief on his face as he heard him speaking coherently was a mirror image of that same look he had given him after being dead to the world for a week. Not even Hael could duplicate something like that. He felt an overwhelming sense of relief followed closely by a wave of fear. His friend was alive and unharmed for the moment, which meant he was surviving just as he had implored him to do. And yet here he was, in a place that he knew Haellara would not want him being in, doing something he knew without a doubt that she did not want him doing. If she should return and see him......

"Get me free?" He blinked in surprise at Kyil, then as he watched Kyil fumbling around with the straps that bound his wrists, he shook his head slightly and waved his bound hand to get Kyil's attention. "First of all, I'm, not going anywhere without you, paper or no paper. There's no way I'm leaving you here in the hands of that harpy witch, whether she owns you or not. Second of all, there's no use trying to untie my wrists; I can't get off of this rack." He bit his lip and shifted his upper body slightly to the left so Kyil could see the metal beneath him. "This....thing is holding me here; even if I was completely untied I couldn't get up." He didn't tell him about the hooks; he feared that if he did, Kyil would either frantically try to free him some other way, or insist that he stay in the room with him and try to hide there, and either way spelled disaster. Now that he knew his friend was alright, he wasn't about to let him fall back into Hael's hands.

He looked closely at Kyil and made sure his friend was looking at him and not the room or the straps. "Listen. Forget about getting me free. Without a plan, it's not going to happen. And it won't happen anyway unless you can come with me. You need to find someplace safe to hide for the time being; keep yourself away from Haellara; if she doesn't see you for a while, she might not concern herself with you. Out of sight, out of mind, you know. Try the kitchens; back when I was living here, that was the first place new males tended to start working at. If there are any servants here that have the slimmest chance of helping a friend of mine, it would be the kitchen staff. I was the only noble in the house that didn't mind plain bread and didn't demand exotic food, like sprites."

He moved his hand in the straps to clasp Kyil's. "Mind what I said. Stay alive. We can get out of here, but it has to be well-conceived; we're in the lair of a demon, and the only way we'll stand a chance is to think it through." He paused and tilted his head to try and look back at the door. "If I knew for sure that we had more time, I would describe to you in detail how to access my sanctuary; it would be the safest place for you in the house, but I have to be very specific, because gaining access is also very dangerous. I wouldn't dream of sending you to it without being sure that you wouldn't fall prey to any of it's traps."

Mikaril felt a stab of panic as he heard and saw his friend shaken so emotionally. He remembered the game well; Haellara had loved to prey upon the most ustable emotions she could find, once they were made known. With him it had been the seeming abandonement of his brother Triel; all the times she had mercilessly told him that he had fled to save his own skin and that once it had been evident that he was to be gone from the house, he had tossed his adoring little brother aside like a bone picked clean of meat, and after that it had been a struggle to hold onto even the slightest bit of admiration for his brother. It had taken so much more for him to finally let that go, but he knew how hard it could be to hold on to an idea when it was trying to be beaten out of you.

Tightening his grip, he spoke louder and with a definite commanding edge to his voice. "I already told you; it would be hopeless for you to help me escape right now; I'm really stuck here. I can't get up, and if you tried to get me off, who knows what might happen. I'm not going anywhere regardless, and even if I was, I certainly wouldn't leave.....COULDN'T leave, knowing that you would be here facing the consequences. Remember what happened the last time you helped me escape from someplace? I ruined your life once; I'm not about to do it again!"

Mikaril tried to keep his grip tightened, hoping that as Kyil slumped down beside the rack, he wouldn't see the tube and the jar; he wanted to say something other than explain just what the metal was doing to him. "Stop saying that. You can't be made flawed except by those who can't understand why you're different. Your flaws are your compassion, your caring for someone other than yourself, and even your knowing to break orders when you feel it is for the best. All of those are unheard of to our people, and when faced with them, they try to beat them out and do you know why? Because it disturbs them. Look how long my sister waited for me, just because I rejected my place in the house as a lowly male. They don't want us being different."

"Your so-called flaws are what make me want so badly to keep you out of harm's way. I know you care about what your former mistress thinks of you, but......I don't care how flawed you think you are; I want you. No matter how Zariira thinks of you, or how weak Haellara thinks you are, I.......I almost wish in my eyes you HAD done something, so that I could forgive you for it and you can think of yourself as redeemed." He felt his grip weakening, and he fought to keep his voice from breaking as he looked up at the ceiling and speaking softly. "I can't get out of here by myself. I was never able to get away from her on my own. I need your help Kyil. And if that small piece of paper means that much in your eyes, I'll find a way to take it from her, and free you in turn."

Feeling as far from a strong male as he possibly could, Mikaril heard Kyil's response and knew the tone of voice; he thought he had heard it back when he had one again been trying to tell Kyil almost the same thing; that essentially if Mikaril hadn't come along, Kyil might still be living a happy life at the pleasure house, never to know such horrors that the open street exposed. Or the mental and physical tortures the pair of them were enduring at that moment. Kyil just wouldn't be convinced of that, any more than he would have been convinced that day in teh alley, and one thing that they did agree on was that in any case, there'd be no time to argue the point. Haellara could return at any time, and doubtless the little backstabbing rat of a male they had helped rescue would be in on the search.

Doing his best to maintain focus and drive away the rest his battered body was telling him he desperately needed, Mikaril looked over at the part of Kyil's head that he could see, speaking quietly. "The best thing you can do is find a place to hide until the way opens to you. I can tell you of my hiding place, but I would have to be assured of no interruptions to make sure that you have the instructions down, so that you could enter safely. But inside the house itself are many places you can use to hide. You need to be safe, and a plan must be made. Hopefully you can find ways to sneak in here and if I'm not in a useless state of mind, we can plan it together. But stay out of Hael's way, and do whatever she says if it means staying alive. We'll find a way out; I just know we will."

Now it was HIS turn to keep his emotion out of his voice. He had more faith in Kyil than he had ever had in any other drow, even his long-lost brother. But the more time he had spent in that horrible place, at his sister's mercy, and knowing what had become of her best toys in the past, ones that hadn't been subject to his mother's rule, the more he was beginning to fear that one night soon, his sister would go all out on him until he lay there dead, a sacrifice to the Goddess who had apparently cared as much about him as a tea-drinker cares about the leaves whose boiled essence they consume.

His next words were barely a whisper; his body kept wanting to go numb with sleep. He knew that once Hael returned, something would be up; his rest had slowed the trickle of liquid pain, and she would surely suspect that he had found a way to relax. She would be more on her guard. "Help me by helping yourself. Stay safe, and find a good place to hide. We'll make plans the next time we meet, okay? Now you had best hurry before she comes back."

In House Torlyl's elaborate dining hall, lit only by a few weak candles by the huge doors and a small fire purposefully smoldered down to the dimmiest of embers, Haellara moodily picked at the food on her plate. Nearly three days had passed since her newest toy had made his miraculous escape from her throne room, and there had been no trace of the weak little fool. The guards at the entrances and exits had reported nothing, even after she had put some of her powers of persuasion to use (and found herself short one guard), andit was beginning to wear on her nerves. This was a stupid male who had never been in her house until less than a week ago; how many places could he possibly hide??

She lifted her eyes from her plate to peer over at Nuumia, who was sitting further down the table with a similar plate in front of him. Different platters of food were placed all over the table between them, and a small boy stood behind her chiar, ready to jump into action at her slightest wave and serve her, or her guest, should she choose to order him to. His nose twitced at all the glorious food, but he knew that unless there was any left over after her, her guest, and then the rest of her brothers got to it, he would be sampling none. He wasn't too disappointed; such was the life of a servant.

As it was, Hael's mind was still far away from her food, and on the everlasting problem of how a broken, pink-eyed male could be hiding from her and her entire household for this long. Had she not known that her brother Mikaril was locked away in the playroom, bleeding his essence into a jar, she would suspect him of being in on it somehow. His was another presence that distracted her from her food. Her brother was starting to weaken from the lack of proper sustenance. She had hoped that the liquid pain would suffice to sustain him, but as she saw his ribs beginning to stick out like bare branches, and his lips cracking every time he screamed, she felt something else was in order to keep him in torturing shape, as it were. She also needed to find a way to give him sppropriate exercise, or she would soon be torturing a spineless blob of flesh. She thought about her pit in the back of the playroom, lined with sharp pointy rocks to prevent climbing out. She could always give him a run in there....put something horrible down there with him and watch him run from it.....

As she was pondering, she absently lifted her fork to her mouth and chewed whatever was on it. Her eyes widened as she swallowed, and she looked down at her plate, which was generously heaped with crawls. But to say they tasted different than when they were normally served in her house would be the same as saying that her deceased mother was in poorer health than normal. The taste was so....vibrant. So strong and powerful. It made that small mouthful of food.....enjoyable. That usually didn't happen unless she wa eating candy.

She turned to Nuumia and spoke up softly. "Have you had any of the crawls? Doyou think they taste...different to you?" She couldn't remember if Nuumia had had any crawls since he had been here, but she figured he would be bright enough to say so if that was the case. At any rate, she had been eating them for decades and she knew that they had never, ever tasted that good. Signaling the servant to bring her a candle, she held it up to her plate and was astonished to see the color of the crawls had also changed, and to a most unappetizing color. She had to hand it to the cook; they had some guts sending the dish out like that. Still, if there was one thing she knew about poisoning, it was that the goal if anything was to make the dish MORE appetizing to look at, not less.

Putting it from her mind, she turned once again toward Nuumia as she set the candle down. "I would have a report from you on your search for Kyil. My guards and household have turned up nothing. What have you found thus far?"

Knowing full well the source of the frustration that had caused the male to make mash out of perfectly good crawls, Haellara allowed herself an easy chuckle before drawing her eyes back down to the oddly-tinted morsels. "I am not entirely sure what was done to make them this way, though the taste is surprisingly exquisite." She beckoned the small boy over to her chair and leaned over in his direction to look him straight in the eyes. "Have we had any new cooks arrive at the kitchen recently?" She kept her gaze steady, knowing that the lie-detecting pendant only worked when eye contact was made.

Looking frightened enough to melt into a puddle onto the floor, the boy trembled visibly as he answered. "No Matron; only a vegetable-chopper and a dish-washer." "And what are their names?" Haellara prompted, thinking that perhaps she had solved the mystery of where Kyil had run off to. "Mistress, the chopper's name is Tirsa, and the washer's name is Ujool." "Ujool?" Haellara sounded the name out and made a face. "Ridiculous name. Very well then." She dismissed the boy with a wave of her hand, and he seemed only too glad to resume his post behind her chair.

As she continued to sample more of the crawls, Haellara found it hard to focus on the mystery of the missing male. She would have to eventually find the cook responsible for these and find out what had prompted him to begin cooking like this. Such a change in routine, albeit a pleasant one, unsettled her, especially when she didn't know the cause.

She listened vaguely to Nuumia, expecting to hear a long drawn-out version of 'well he must be here SOMEWHERE.' But at the mention of magic, her eyes widened, and the crawl-laden fork stopped just as it was entering her mouth. Placing the flrk back down, she stared at Nuumia keenly. "Magic, you say? Invisibility? What an....interesting thought." She had been about to say ridiculous, but then she had remembered that when she had received Kyil's papers from his former mistress, she has only glanced at the first page to endure that the trade was legitimate and she had not just paid a pouchful of diamonds for a few pieces of expensive letterhead. So eager had she been to return and wave it in Kyil's face, she had not found the time to really pore over the documents and see what new talents her new slave had. Perhaps he WAS the one cooking in the kitchen, despite the boy's insistence that no one by the name of Kyil had arrived recently. Perhaps he was holed up in there somewhere like a mouse, coming out only to add his own touches to the prepared dishes. If anything, the thought was somehow even more unsettling than a mere change in routine.

She began to eat the rest of her crawls as swiftly as etiquette permitted, between slightly hasty gulps of red wine. "Nuumia," she said as she pushed her plate aside, "Finish your meal and then resume your search. Should you need me, ask it of the servants and they shall come find me." Signaling for the small boy to remain behind and wait on the future Patron, Haellara rose swiftly and walked out of the dining hall and into the corridor, mind reeling. She now had two mysteries to figure out, and when they both involved her own house, she was not as amused as she could have been. Both could so easily lead to misfortune, which was only fun if it happened to someone else's house, and with her position still newly acquired, the last thing she needed was instability in the House order.

She turned a corner and was walking down the long hall that led to several main parts of the house, when her keen ears picked up the sound of scuffling around the distant corner. It was too soon for Nuumia to have started his search and run into trouble. Eyes narrowing, she picked up the folds of her robe and dashed down the hall in the direction of the sound.

Rounding the bend and clearing the corner, Haellara found herself screeching to a most undignified stop as she took in the scene before her. Three of her bigger gaurds were lying in a heap on the floor, bloodless but clearly unconscious, and who should be in the middle of them appearing to pick their pockets but the pink-eyed little renegade who had eluded every member of her household for three days! She didn't see any weapons in his hand, and yet there were all three, obviously subdued, and she knew that those particular three didn't just drop from anything, and too little time had elapsed for the small male to just happen upon the bodies and decide to pick them clean.

She took a step toward the male, but the rustle of her robe betrayed her, and she saw the male's head come up like a rat sensing an interruption to it's meal of carrion. Before she could so much as begin the casting of a spell, she saw Kyil turn and flee down the hall faster than she had ever thought he could move, given his soft lifestyle. She supposed that could have been ONE thing he had learned from Mika; one rat showing another how to make themselves scarce.

She whirled around and marched back in the direction of her bedroom, leaving the trio lying in the hall; any male stupid enough to let themselves be floored in her house deserved to be exposed to whatever should befall them for as long as they remained out. She was confident that they would recover and barge in on her sometime in the near future, shouting that they had encountered the missing male. Slow addle-brained buffoons.
She reached her bedroom and marched in, slamming the door. She crossed over to the other side of the room, where a large worn desk stood, piled high with spellbooks and covered with the drippings of countless candles. Lighting one now, she placed it carefully into a holder positioned in just the right spot on her desk, reached into her robe and pulled out the papers she had bought. Speading them wide, she let her eager red-yellow eyes soak up every word, her mind visualizing every detail, even reading the meaningless drivel that made the documents all the more official sounding.

Nearly an hour later, she snarled and mashed the candle flame out with her palm, ignoring the brief flash of pain and smell of charred flesh. She had read through it twice, going over every detail, and not once did it mention even the slightest hint of Kyil having magic abilities such as invisibility. There were mentions of menial chores; sewing, cleaning, cooking (she had at least discovered the wherebouts of the elusive 'Ujool') as well as a few other, less menial talents, such as massage. Yes, her brother SURE knew how to choose them.

But now she was faced with a dilemma; not only was there a potential magic user loose in her house, but she didn't know just what it was he was capable of. She knew where he was, but she would have to run to the kitchen and find him, and she already knew that he could make himself invisible. As she walked back out into the corridor, she struck out for the playroom with mounting anger and a new resolve. She had a perfectly good source of information provided she tapped him just right, and she was quite hot from being fooled so thoroughly. If it took all night, she would have her answers.

There was only so long before it happened. Kyil was well aware of this. After his encounter in the hall with the guards, and with Haellara seeing him, he was certain that his luck was thinning. He had at least reclaimed his bag. And within it the magical books he desperatly needed to stufy from. And his jewelry! Finally! Now he had access to magic so he could use some of those spells! In fact, Kyil had taken to wearing a enchanted ring on his right ring finger. The enchantment made him a bit more..durable. Just in case he came across the guards again. So it served it's purpose for now.

And his journal. Kyil had spent over a hour writing in it's pages. he wanted to go back and tear out all the pages prevoiusly...but he made himself leave them alone. There was a reason one kept a diary after all, for the good and the bad times. Now certainly was a bad time...

Nuumia must have been stalking him down the hall. Kyil had felt the eerie sense of being followed but he had not seen anyone. No...no one at all. Having shaken the tingly disturbed feeling from his shoulders he entered Aldzi's room...and it was there that he was attacked. Kyil had started to close the door when it was forcefully kicked in from the other side. The door swung open, striking Kyil with enough force to make him stagger back a step.

As Kyil had been surprised by Nuumia, the smaller male made good on his advantage. He leapt forwards, throwing his full weight into Kyil and slamming him back into the wall behind him. Nuumia may not have had a lot of strength to him, but he certainly was quick. And he had a pricked pride lending him a furious strength. Nuumia stopped himself from pulling any of his bladed weapons, it wouldn't have suited him if Haellara grew angry at him for marking Kyil up after his little hiding stint.

"I've got you now! Stupid slave! Do you have any idea how you made me look!" Nuumia spat as he and Kyil took a tumble to the floor. Nuumia grabbed a hand into Kyils hair and gripped it tightly. Kyil reached his hands up and began to pry at the fingers holding him down.

"Stop it! Let me go you...you horrid beast!" Kyil protested. His struggles, rather then infuriating Nuumia, seemed to spark a frightening eagerness. Kyil saw the vial pulled from Nuumia's pocket, and he kicked his legs to try and dislodge the smaller male. Nuumia struggled to keep himself on top of Kyil. He brought the vial to his lips, and bit the cork out of the mouth. "No!" Kyil did not know what was in the vial, but simply by seeing the expression on Nuumia's face he knew it would not be a good thing.

Nuumia placed his thumb over the top of the vial and up ended it so he could fight to try and get it into Kyil's mouth. Kyil of course would not just open up and drink, so he kept his teeth clentched shut tightly. He tried to shake his head back and forth, but with Nuumia holding his hair in place his movements were quite limited.

Then Kyil screamed. A high pitched sound that carried well out into the hall way. Nuumia jammed the vial almost whole into Kyil's mouth and slipped his thumb from the vial. The red orange liquid flowed into his throat, and as he inhaled at the end of a scream, he swallowed. Nuumia watched with glee as the pained expression on Kyil's face became more twisted. He felt the slender male begin to shake and thrash under him. It was only now, as the liquid pain began to take hold, that Nuumia removed his knee from Kyil's crotch. He was sure he hadn't ground down hard enough on it to do any damage. And really...what better way to get Kyil to open his mouth?

Nuumia took his thumb and wiped the glistening drop remaining on the tip over Kyils lips. Ah! The whimpers that came were just...exciting! Nuumia slipped off Kyil and began to bind the pink eyed male up. "That's right. Hurt's don't it? It's the same pain your friend is going through. It's only fair you share in his pain." Nuumia spoke happily as he knotted Kyil's hands behind his back. Shifting down to his knee's Nuumia began to bind those together as well.

"It's a shame to tie you up right now. I'd like to watch you wriggle around some more. Guess a pet slave isn't used to such pain huh?" He carried on in a good natured voice. Once Kyil's knee's were bound, Nuumia lashed together his ankles, then ran a rope around Kyil's neck for a bit of added insult. He jerked the rope tight, delighting in the sudden gutteral choking that cut off the whimpers.

Thus bound, Nuumia pulled the rope over his shoulder and began to walk through the House. He purposefully took a long route towards the throne room, where he assumed Hael would be. And if not...well...that -is- where she had mentioned wanting to keep Kyil caged up until she decided what to do with him. Of course...the long route incoporated three sets of stairs, up wich Nuumia took his time dragging Kyil and...just once he let the rope slip and Kyil tumbled all the way to the bottom of the stairs.

By the time Kyil was dragged into the throne room a good two hours of his capture had been in progress. The small amount of liquid pain he had been adminstered had faded enough that he was able to be aware of his surroundings. Not that he wanted to be aware. His body ached, his clothing certainly looked the worse for wear after being dragged over the floor, and he had a rawness around his neck from being dragged.

"Matron Haellara?" Nuumia called questioningly past the door.