Chapter 7 The Deeper Your Scars

Valas was laying on the bed with his hands behind his head staring up at the ceiling lost in deep thought. He could hear Lanie splashing around in the basin tub in the far corner of the apartment. Jarlaxle had magically filled it and requested she be cleaned and dressed before he and Kimmuriel made their return. The imaskari child was humming a most unusual song however pretty it was, Valas found himself drifting in and out of reverie as he listened.


When she stopped humming he looked over in her direction. She was holding her right arm up and watching the beads of water run down from her wrist to her elbow where they gathered before dripping into the water. She seemed to be dazzled by the way the candle light set each little bead of water aglow against her pale skin.


The light playing off her skin was quite beautiful and Valas noted the interesting way it webbed on her back and parts of her shoulder. As he studied her, a sickening feeling grew in the pit of his stomach, he realized what he was looking at upon her back were not water droplets but scars. The poor child had scars in very distinct patterns up and down her back.


He sat up and made his way slowly over to where she was bathing. As he got nearer to her he was able to see patterns of circular scars running their course on either side of her spine. There were incised patterns near the back of her rib cage and from where he stood he could tell they continued around her sides to the front of her body.


The pragmatic Valas Hune did what he had to do to survive. In the process of surviving he had witnessed and turned a cold shoulder to many horrific circumstances. He had killed many over the centuries of his life and stolen more things than he could remember, but he wasn't completely cold and unmerciful. Even he could not stand the thought of a child being tortured and it was evident she had been tortured over a long course of time. The older scars had healed over to form clear fibrous mounds while the newer scars still showed purplish blue pigmentation.


"Valas I told you not to look at me, you said you wouldn't look at me." Lanie yelled out when she realized Valas was standing right behind her. "I didn't want you to see."


She brought her knees up to her chest to further hide herself. She didn't want him to see her horrid scars that covered her flesh. Valas took a knee by the side of the tub and gently brushed back a wet lock of hair from the child's cheek. She squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face into her knees and once again began sobbing.


"Lanie who did this to you?" Valas asked, already knowing the answer he would get.


"The illithids and..." she trailed off not finishing her reply.


Suddenly a repressed memory as gut wrenching as the scars that marred her body became remembered. Somewhere in the depths of her soul she recalled that familiar name, Oblodra, and her blood ran cold. Rocking herself back and forth in the tub she began counting her breaths out loud in an effort to stay calm and keep from hyperventilating.


She felt Valas gently stroking the back of her head shushing her in an attempt to calm her down. She couldn't bring herself to tell him what she just remembered. Without lifting her head she began pleading for his forgiveness she had found something in Valas she hadn't had since her father, she found friendship and comradery, and that meant more to her than anything in the world.


"Valas I didn't mean for you to get hurt and I am sorry I broke my promise and controlled your mind again, but I was afraid, and I just wanted to get away, I wanted to…" Valas cut her off before she could finish.


"Child, I am not happy about what you did, you nearly got me killed, but I can understand why you did what you did. I forgive you, it is okay, just calm down. There is no need to worry any more, let's put it to rest." He issued a sincere smile as he spoke and continued stroking the back of her head.


"I can't get the braided snarls out of my hair and I am not sure if I want to." She wiped away the last of her tears. "My father was the one who put these beads in my hair and I haven't ever taken them out since. They have been in my hair now for five years."


"And it looks like they have been in there for five years. We need to get them out Jarlaxle won't like it in the least if you leave your hair looking like a rats nest."
"He doesn't like hair much at all does he?" Lanie quipped, "Like I said before, I haven't ever seen a bald drow before."


Valas gave a hearty laugh, "For sure, I haven't really seen one myself, other than Jarlaxle. I am still figuring out why he does it other than erasing any formal station amongst drow."


"You mean you don't know?" Lanie asked raising both her arms again, watching the water run its course their entire length. She repeated the motion looking towards Valas with a rather devilish smile.


"You know why he shaves his head?" Valas questioned with a look of intrigued plastered on his face.


"Oh, I know why, I saw it in him; I know why he does a lot of what he does. I can't tell you though, it isn't my place, it wouldn't be right. If he wanted you to know, you would know, but you don't, so he doesn't want you to know. I am sorry Valas I cannot tell you. Kimmuriel knows Kimmuriel knows everything about Jarlaxle. Everything!" She spoke as she cocked her head to the left while studying Valas.


""Do you like to swim Valas?" she asked again.


"What? Why? If you think I am getting in a tub with you, you are out of your mind." He snapped back uncertain of the way she just seemed to jump subjects. Or did she jump subjects? He had a suspicion that she was purposefully alluding to something. He quickly let it go and carefully started cutting the end of one of Lanie's ratty braid with his dagger.


"Don't lose my beads Valas, they are important to me."


"I won't just hold still." Valas said as he delicately sheared off the ends of her braids carefully gathering the loose beads. He helped Lanie untangle the matted braids framing her face; chunks of caked dirt falling away clearly it had been a long time since she had washed herself.


"Give me your hands Lanie," Valas ordered, "He took the tip of his dagger underneath her nails on each finger removing the grime that had collected there. Jarlaxle will more than likely give you the once over look, he is very particular about cleanliness and looks."


Lanie began laughing at that last statement, "Then why does he dress like that?"


"Well he is a most interesting individual, isn't he?" Valas chortled.


"Yes he is," her eyes met Valas's and she continued to speak, "so much more than what he alludes, and yet your gut runs cold at the very sight of Kimmuriel, if only you truly knew Jarlaxle. I fear Jarlaxle most of all."


Awkward silence swallowed the humor from the air. Valas asked not a single question more and Lanie offered no further explanations. She got up and climbed out of the tub, Valas seeing the full extent to which the scars covered her boyish prepubescent body. She made no attempt this time to hide herself; she didn't see a reason to.


"I hate them." She exclaimed as she traced her finger along the edge of one scar that ran a just above her hip.


Valas grew very uncomfortable a slight cringe crossed his face when he noted the scaring on her upper thighs particularly around her genital area.


"What monsters." Valas exclaimed under his breath.


"It is why I got so upset when Jarlaxle wanted to get me cleaned up. I didn't want anyone to see." Lanie said as she pulled the deep blue velvet dress over her head.


"It's understandable Lanie, but don't let your scars define who you are. I once heard it said that the deeper your scars, the more room there is to fill them up with love. Don't hate your scars, appreciate their depth." Valas said.


He stopped for a second amazed to hear himself say what he said. It was totally uncharacteristic of his drow heritage, or was it? A fleeing memory of his mother's face danced through his mind.


"That was a beautiful thing to say." She said with a curious expression upon her face.




Lanie had never heard a drow speak of love under any circumstance. The drow didn't even have a word for love in their language; in fact most denizens of the Underdark didn't acknowledge its existence.