Insurrection
Chapter Thirteen

The five drow worked their way into the bowels of House Melarn for what seemed like hours, though Pharaun was fairly certain they'd only been at it for about fifteen minutes. On several occasions, the group was forced to stop while a member of the House guard crossed paths with them, and once, Halisstra actually posed as a member of House Zauvirr, issuing orders to a group of sentries to head to the surface to help in the defense of the House.
"The lower levels are not usually very heavily occupied," Halisstra said at one point. "I suspect most of Ssipriina's servants and troops are above, aiding in the defense of the House. It's not much farther, now."
The mage nodded as the five of them continued on their way. More than once, Pharaun caught himself gazing in infatuation at the gorgeous creature beside him. She seemed to be considerably unhappy at the state of things, especially the fact that she was helpless to defend herself with her arms bound as they were, but she kept her gaze cast demurely down, and the wizard only found this to be even more endearing.
The group took one last stairwell down and found themselves in a dismal cell block. The hall was undecorated, unlike the posh elegance of the levels above, and the stale stench of unwashed bodies, faint though it was, gave a certain hint of what was to be found there. Halisstra led the five of them to a doorway at the end of a short hall. It was stout and obviously designed to withstand considerable force.
The drow priestess stepped up to the portal and waved her House Melarn brooch before it. There was an audible click as the magic of the insignia operated the locks set into the door. Halisstra pushed the door aside and moved through into the chamber beyond, which appeared to be a guard room, currently empty. At the far side of the chamber, a hallway stretched off into darkness.
Pharaun, spotting movement in the corridor there, put a finger to his lips and motioned for quiet.
Someone is there. Be alert - and no noise,he signed, pointing to both Halisstra and Danifae.
The two drow females nodded, and Pharaun gestured for Halisstra to proceed. As she entered the hallway, the others followed her in. The majority of the cells were empty, their doors standing open and the chambers within dark and silent. However, about halfway down, Pharaun could detect the low voice of someone speaking. It emanated from one of the cells on his right, and he could just see the door being swung shut from inside.
Moving as quietly as they could, the five of them closed the gap to the doorway. The portal was not completely sealed, and Pharaun was able to peer inside the cell. Quenthel was there, naked and crouched against the far wall. A heavy steel collar was around her neck, with a thick chain running from it to a bolt set into the stone of the wall. The high priestess was gagged with some sort of thick bit that was wedged tightly in her mouth, and her arms were obviously incapacitated, stuck together in some sort of thick, viscous black blob in front of her. She had been very effectively immobilized, and Pharaun understood all too well, completely prohibited from casting, should she still have a divine enchantment locked away after all this time without contact with Lolth.
To one side, against another wall of the cell, Jeggredstood glowering. He too was chained to the wall, thick bands of adamantine encasing his neck, arms, and legs. Pharaun could see that the restraints were magically strengthened, but even so, the draegloth strained against them, refusing to admit even for a moment that he was not going to break free. Again and again, Jeggred jerked on the chains, causing them to rattle against the wall as he tried to lunge at the object of his wrath.
Faeryl Zauvirr stood just a little way out of the draegloths reach, her back to Pharaun and Halisstra. She was standing over Quenthel in the middle of a scathing taunt.
". . . know you would have loved to tell the matron mothers the truth, but it's too late for that now. I only regret that we didn't have more time spend together, Quenthel."
Her voice dripped with acid.
"Come a little closer, Faeryl," Jeggred said, his deep voice flat with malice. "Let me caress you like before, in the underhalls of the Great Mound. Don't you want to feel my kiss again?"
Faeryl shuddered but ignored the draegloth, instead pulling a dagger from her belt.
Halisstra tapped Pharaun softly on the arm.
Let me lure her out here,the Melarn daughter signed.
Pharaun nodded and stepped back, out of sight. Ryld pulled Danifae against the wall next to the wizard, while Valas took up a position on the opposite side of the door.
"Still, it's going to be fun watching you both die," the wizard heard Faeryl say.
"I'm afraid we have other plans for her, Faeryl," Halisstra said, pushing the door open.
The ambassador hissed in anger.
"What are you doing here?" she snarled. "You should be dead!"
Then, apparently realizing that Halisstra had discovered her secret, Faeryl's tone changed.
"You don't really think I'm going to let you walk out of here alive, do you? To run and tell the others what you found? I don't think so."
Halisstra's tone was equally cold.
"On the contrary. You don't think I came down here alone, did you? Danifae!" the Melarn daughter called out, back over her shoulder. "It's true. Run, and tell them what we found."
"I think not," Faeryl said, appearing in the hallway as though she had leaped past the priestess. "You're not going to tell . . ."
The words died in Faeryl's mouth as she spotted Pharaun, Ryld, and Danifae leaning against the wall.
"You!" she spat. "Halisstra, you cast your lot withthem? You'rea bigger fool than I thought."
The look In Faeryl's eyes was decidedly nervous, and her fear only grew as she felt Valas step in behind her and take hold of her arm. The point of the scout's kukri settled against the hollow of her throat.
Pharaun reached out and held out his hand, waiting for Faeryl to relinquish her dagger to him. Eyeing any possible avenue of escape, she appeared ready to bolt but realized she had no chance against so many. She relinquished the dagger, flipping the handle around and laying the weapon in the wizard's palm.
"Perhaps I am a fool," Halisstra said, "but at least I have them as allies, which is more than I can say for you. Did you enjoy your little game of lies? I hope it was worth it. I think it will be the last thing you enjoy. Ever."
"Watch her," the mage said to Valas as he stepped into the cell, Halisstra close behind.
It was obvious from the relieved look in Quenthel's eyes that she was glad to see him. Pharaun only smiled as he uttered a magical phrase. The collar around Quenthel's neck clicked open.
"Help her," he directed to Halisstra.
Pharaun then moved over to Jeggred, whose red, feral eyes glittered in anticipation.
"Your arrival was timely, wizard," the draegloth said, spreading his arms wide. "Free me so that I may rend the traitor and watch the life fade from her eyes."
"You will do no such thing," Quenthel said. Halisstra had helped the high priestess remove the gag. "Do not touch her, Jeggred. Do you understand me?"
Jeggred looked at Quenthel for a moment, but then the demon inclined his head in acquiescence.
"As you wish and command, Mistress."
Pharaun had but one more spell with which to unlock the restraints that held Jeggred, and he quickly utilized it to free one of the draegloth's arms. For the other bindings, the mage decided to cast a different spell, one that would suppress the magic that strengthened the adamantine. He quickly wove the dispelling magic and watched as the aura surrounding the metal faded from his sight.
"Try to break it, now," he said to Jeggred.
The draegloth jerked experimentally on the chains holding him to the walls, then he really leaned into the effort, but the adamantine links still would not yield.
Pharaun frowned.
"Perhaps a bit of cold, to make them brittle," he mused aloud, producing a small, clear crystal from his piwafwi."Gather the lengths together in a group," he directed the draegloth. Jeggred did so, holding them in his free hand like a set of reins on a pack lizard.
Pointing the crystal at the sections of chain, the Master of Sorcere focused a cone of magically summoned arctic air along their lengths. When the incantation was completed, he gestured for Jeggred to try again.
This time, when the fiend began to work the restraints over, the frosty metal shattered, freeing him. He still had the collar and manacles around his neck and limbs, but that could be dealt with later.
"My thanks, wizard," the draegloth said, then strode over to where Quenthel was in the process of freeing herself from the last of the black, sticky, resinlike substance that her hands had been encased in.
Quenthel stood in the center of the cell, naked but seemingly oblivious to it.
"Do you make a habit of remaining maddeningly out of reach until the last possible moment, Mizzrym?" she said, scowling slightly. "You cut your arrival a bit close, didn't you?"
Pharaun sighed inwardly, realizing that whatever gratitude had been present before had been replaced by the high priestess's usual haughty demeanor.
"My pardon, please, Mistress Baenre," he said in as gracious a tone as possible. "We dallied with some of the local maidens as long as we could before rushing here at the last moment. I didn't think you would mind terribly much."
Ryld chuckled at the wizard's snide remark, while both Halisstra and Danifaegavehim sharp looks, reminding him that the two members of House Melarn were unaccustomed to his disrespectful relationship with Quenthel. The Mistress of the Academy merely scowled at him then turned away to face Faeryl, who cringed, still under Valas's guard.
"Strip her and give her clothes to me," Quenthel commanded, eliciting a high-pitched squeak of protest from the ambassador.
Valas held the prisoner steady as Ryld stepped up to help him, and Halisstra jumped forward almost eagerly and began to disrobe Faeryl, who struggled to avoid the ignominious fate.
"Just who are these two?" Quenthel snapped, eyeing Danifae.
The battle captive cocked her head to one side, eyeing the high priestess in return, as though gauging how much she should defer to this new leader.
"I am Danifae Yauntyrr, Mistress Baenre, formerly of Eryndlyn. I am Halisstra Melarn's personal attendant."
"A battle captive?" Quenthel smirked, and Danifae merely bowed her head.
Quickly enough, Faeryl stood naked in the midst of the group, still held between Valas and Ryld, while Quenthel donned the ambassador's clothing. As the high priestess was dressing, she jerked her head in the direction of the collar, still chained to the wall where she'd been restrained only moments before.
"Lock her up," Quenthel commanded.
"No!" Faeryl protested, trying desperately to jerk free of her two captors. As Valas, Halisstra, and Ryld all corralled her, the ambassador shrieked and began to fight against her captors. "No! You can't leave me down here. ..."
"Shut up!" Quenthel said, slapping Faeryl. "You sniveling, wretched creature, did you really believe you could get away with your betrayal? Did you honestly think you could defy me, a Baenre, and the Mistress of Arach-Tinilith? By the Dark Mother, child, the depths of your foolishness surprise me! Lock her up," she repeated, gesturing once more at the thick adamantine collar.
"No!" Faeryl protested again, struggling as she was hauled over to the wall.
The ambassador flailed and kicked, but the scout and warrior held her tightly as Halisstra fitted the collar around her neck. When the adamantine band clicked shut, the imprisoned drow sobbed once, and as soon as the two males relinquished their grip on her, she began frantically jerking on the restraint.
Quenthel started to turn away, then paused.
"You can redeem yourself, if you like," she said to Faeryl.
"How?" the frantic dark elf asked. "Anything! I will do whatever you want."
"Tell me where my things are," Quenthel replied. "Tell me where all of my possessions were stored when I was brought here."
Faeryl's face fell in despair.
"I don't know," she sobbed, dropping to her knees in supplication. "Please don't leave me here. I will find them for you."
"Don't bother with her," Halisstra said. "I know where your things are, Quenthel Baenre."
Quenthel turned and eyed the daughter of House Melarn.
"Why should I trust you?" she asked.
"That is for you to decide," Halisstra answered, "but consider this ... I led your males down here to find you, I lured the traitor out into the hall before she could kill you, and I live here and can find my way around. While that would ordinarily be a strike against me, as I told the wizard, I have no quarrel with you, and I do not want to see you suffer the consequences for House Zauvirr's betrayal of my mother."
Quenthel's eyebrows raised as she listened to the other priestess's words, then she looked at Pharaun.
"She speaks the truth," the wizard admitted. "At least thus far. She has thrown herself in with us, though she has few alternatives. The other matron mothers, led by Ssipriina Zauvirr, are wresting control of her House away from her, after the death of her mother."
"Hmm," Quenthel mused. "Very well. We'll address your status later. If you know where my things are, lead on,"
"Wait!" Faeryl cried out, lunging forward against the chain around her neck. "She will betray you, Mistress. All the noble Houses despise you for your plans to steal from the city. You can't trust her."
"On the contrary," Quenthel laughed derisively, shaking her head. "She is a Melarn, a member of the only House in Ched Nasad Icantrust. Let's go."
The high priestess turned to depart the cell, and Pharaun was stepping into the hall behind her as Faeryl wailed once more, "You can't leave me here!"
The ambassador began a chant, and Pharaun recognized the pattern of the words as a divine incantation, though he wasn't sure what sort of spell the dark elf might still have retained in her memory.
Before she could complete the invocation, though, Jeggred was in front of Faeryl. The draegloth flicked a hand out, across her face, slicing his long claws across one cheek and catching her by surprise so that she lost her concentration and the words of the spell died in her mouth, the magic lost.
Faeryl cried out, backing away and clasping her bloody cheek. She began to tremble, remembering all the terrible things Jeggred had done to her. She cowered from the towering fiend, folding herself into the corner, as the draegloth glared down at her. He did not raise a hand to strike her further.
Quenthel stepped up beside the demon, wrapped her hands lovingly around his arm, and smiled at the imprisoned drow.
"You know, Faeryl," the Mistress of the Academy purred, "You're actually right."
Faeryl only blinked at Quenthel, terror in her eyes.
"You said before that I couldn't leave you here. Sadly, it's true. There's no telling what other spells you might still have tucked away in that clever little mind of yours. Jeggred, my pet, repay her for the things she did to us. Take your time . . . enjoy the moment."
Quenthel strolled out of the room, along with Ryld, but Pharaun remained, as did Halisstra and Danifae.
Faeryl's first scream rang in Pharaun's ears, echoing in the small cell. The draegloth had not yet touched the ambassador, but as the wizard watched, smiling, Jeggred moved closer. Her screams rose in pitch, and they were suddenly silenced as Jeggred casually reached out with one large clawed hand and grasped her by the neck, just beneath the collar she wore, cutting off her air. Madly, Faeryl began to flail at the fiend, but he easily lifted her up and extended his arm out fully, so that the naked drow's feet rose off the floor, kicking at the air. She pummeled feebly at the draegloth's arms, and just as she was fading, Jeggred released her, watching as she crumpled to the floor, gasping for air. Before she could fully regain her breath, he reached down and poked a single claw up under her chin.
Pharaun saw that the talon penetrated deep into the soft tissue, probably through the dark elf's tongue, pinning her mouth shut. Faeryl squealed in pain, but it was a muffled cry. She reached up to try to pull the fiend's hand away, but he slowly, relentlessly began to lift her, forcing her to scrabble to her feet, clinging to his arm with both her hands to support her weight and keep the talon from plunging deeper, penetrating the roof of her mouth. Higher and higher thedraegloth lifted, until at last Faeryl was on her tiptoes, frantically trying to lift herself off this impaling spike by her arms alone, tears streaming down her face.
Jeggred merely held her there, watching her squirm, using his two smaller hands to caress the ambassador. He brought his other hand up and flicked a claw across her exposed throat, slicing through her vocal chords.
With blood streaming from the gash in her neck, her red eyes wild with terror, Faeryl tried to scream, but all that issued from her was a muffled, wet gurgle. Jeggred laughed and let her dangle, unable to cry out at all.
Danifae and Halisstra turned away, but whether satisfied or disturbed at the fiend's display of ruthlessness, Pharaun was not sure. He was the only one who remained in the cell, andhe couldn't draw his eyes away from the scene before him.
Blood ran down Faeryl's neck and chest, and her struggles were growing more and more feeble. Finally, perhaps growing tired of this sport, Jeggred raked at her again, across the abdomen this time, slicing cleanly so that her entrails were freed. The fiend let her drop to the ground at last, and Faeryl crumpled at the draegloth's feet, though Pharaun could see that she was not yet dead.
The ambassador blinked in shock and occasionally thrashed weakly as Jeggred crouched down. When Pharaun realized the demon was preparing to feast, dining on Faeryl even as she lay there, still conscious but too weak to fight him, the wizard finally had to turn away. The wet sounds of the demon at his meal followed him out into the hallway.
Gromph Baenre did not relish the latest message he had to deliver, for several reasons. First and foremost, it was not good news, and however much he was removed from the source of the report, he was still the messenger. Ordinarily, he wouldn't mind for that reason alone, for there were few individuals in Menzoberranzan who could actually take out their displeasure on him, the most powerful mage in the city. Of those few, most held on to only a shell of their former power and were relying on him to conceive of a way to restore it. No, being the bearer of bad news this day would not be as risky as it might on other days, but then he didn't often have to deliver such unpleasant information to his sister.
That brought the Archmage of Menzoberranzan around to the other cause for his distress. Triel Baenre was at home, which meant that Gromph had togo visit her, rather than the other way around. He detested leaving Sorcere, detested having to go to the Great Mound even more, and certainly didn't like doing any of it under such circumstances. It was yet another reason for him to add to his list of reasons why he wanted the crisis resolved. He was tired of all the inconvenience it was causing him personally.
As he flew over the streets of Menzoberranzan on his way to the Great Mound, Gromph peered below in consternation. He had sent word to the appropriate individuals in charge that more troops were to be dispatched, but he had yet to see the results of his orders. The disquiet below was growing again, and if they weren't careful, the nobles of the city would find themselves right back in the middle of another uprising.
Well, Triel could put her foot down again, he supposed, insist that the other matron mothers respond promptly when the call came for more soldiers, but he doubted it would make them quicken their pace one whit. They were going to tend to their own Houses first, High Council be damned.
Approaching the edge of House Baenre, Gromph settled himself to the balcony outside his sister's audience chamber. The guards on duty there peered at him warily for a moment, but when they saw who it was, they stiffened in salute. Ignoring them, the archmage walked briskly past them into the council chambers themselves, hoping to find Triel there. She was not.
Clicking his tongue in exasperation, Gromph passed out of the large audience chamber and into the hallway beyond, which led to her personal quarters. Arriving at the door to her suite of rooms, the archmage was greeted by a pair of stoic females, robust specimens who were well armed and apparently trained equally as well in the art of combat as divine magic.
The pair of guards crossed their heavy maces before the door.
"She is not to be disturbed," one of them said, her stare flat, making it clear she would brook no argument, brother or not.
Gromph sighed, making another mental mark to the tally of reasons he hated doing this. No matter how many times he had to push his proverbial weight around to get to see Triel in her private rooms, the matron mother's personal guards never made it any easier on him the nexttime. He'd had enough of it.
"I'm not going to stand here and argue with you about this, today. You've got one minute to tell her it's me and let me through, or I will leave you as two piles of smoking ash on her doorstep. Do I make myself clear?"
The flat stares turned mildly baleful, but after some careful consideration, the one who spoke finally nodded curtly and slipped inside, shutting the door behind her and leaving her partner to stare icily at the archmage while he folded his arms and tapped his foot.
Just when Gromph was seriously considering whether or not to make good on his threat, the door opened and the guard appeared again, motioning him through. Arching his eyebrow as though to say, "what else did you expect?" he pushed past her impatiently and shoved the door shut behind him.
Triel was not in the front room, though that didn't really surprise the wizard. Usually, if she was going to bother to be presentable for guests, she would see them in the audience chamber. He figured his odds were about even as to whether he'd discover her in the bedroom or in the baths, most likely with a lover. He tried the bedroom first, with no luck.
Moving through into the bathroom, Gromph found his sister, alone except for a pair of attendants, eyes closed and soaking in an oddly scented oil bath. The odor permeated the room and made him cough.
Triel opened one eye and looked at the wizard, then closed it again, making no move to greet him.
"You really shouldn't threaten my guards like that," she said, a bit testily. "They're standing there to keep the likes of you out, you know."
"A thousand apologies, Matron Mother," Gromph answered. "I will be certain to avoid helping you in the future. Please do drop by sometime and I'll be sure to keep you waiting outsidemy offices."
This time, both of Triel's eyes opened, but instead of growing angry, she appeared worried.
"What is it?" she asked. "Your news must be particularly unpleasant for you to behave so boorishly."
Gromph had to chuckle, but it was a bitter laugh.
"You know me better than most, sister. I suppose I should give you more credit. You're correct, though, the news is bad, and it comes from several fronts. Our patrols are telling me that traffic is picking up on the outskirts of the city. Nothing definitive, but they're growing fearful that we're due for some sort of aggressive act from somewhere, and soon."
"What sort of traffic?" Triel asked, shifting in the bath so that an attendant could begin to scrub her back with a rough cloth.
"Hard to say. Enough species come and go as it is, but they have reported an inordinate number of troglodyte sightings the last few days."
Triel made a noise in her throat, and at first Gromph wondered if it was in response to the ministrations of the attendant, but he realized it was derisive when his sister said, "Troglodytes? They've never been able to muster any sizable threat against us. You came all the way over here and harassed my guards to tell me that? Please."
Gromph clicked his tongue in vexation and strode across the tiled floor to take a seat on a long bench along one wall.
"No, of course not, but don't be so quick to dismiss any potential threat. More than enough generals saw their last battle from underestimating the enemy. We're vulnerable to any attack right now, and you know it."
"Fine, I'll take it under advisement," Triel said. "So, what else do you have to tell me? I'd like to enjoy the rest of my bath, but if you insist on giving me more bad news, I don't think I shall be able to."
Gromph shook his head.
"Yes, there is more bad news," he said.
"Oh, wonderful."
"I'm hearing bad things from our expedition to Ched Nasad."
The matron mother rolled over and sat up, shooing away the attendant. She seemed unconcerned that her upper body was exposed to him, though Gromph ignored that fact.
"What kind of bad things?" she asked, her tone grave.
"The last communication I received reported that riots were beginning. I haven't heard anything since, and the next reports are overdue."
"How long?"
"Two days. I already relayed that information to you."
"Do you have a means of contacting him?" Triel asked.
"Yes, but not for a while, and not really for the kind of conversation I suspect you'd like for me to have with him. Even with what Ican do, I'll have to make preparations to use the appropriate magic."
"Fine, do that. In the meantime, what are your thoughts?"
Gromph considered the question then said, "Do I believe they are alive? Let's give them some credit. They are an enterprising lot, and I have no doubt that they can take care of themselves. That's half the reason you sent them away, isn't it?"
Triel's eyes narrowed slightly as she stood and let the oil cascade from her body.
"I do want them to succeed," shesaid. "It aids us nothing for them to perish, regardless of whatever benefits we both receive for having a few specific ones out of the way."
She motioned for the attendant to bring her a towel and had it wrapped around herself.
Gromph's stare was carefully neutral.
"I want them to succeed, too," he said. "My issues aside, this crisis affects every aspect of my studies and pursuits. My point was, if they were ingenious enough to be considered a threat here, I think they can take care of themselves in Ched Nasad."
"Find them," the matron mother commanded, "and let me know when you do."
"Even if I have to threaten your guards again?"
"Even if you have to leave them as piles of ash on my doorstep."
Gromph nodded and turned away as Triel began to dress with help from the two attendants. The archmage stopped and turned back to face his sister.
"Oh, and one more thing."
Triel looked over at her brother and asked, "Yes?"
"Will you please remind the other matron mothers of the importance of timely response to threats inside the city? I asked for reinforcements for several specific sections three hours ago, and they were still not in place when I came to visit."
"Again?" Triel sighed. "Yes, of course I will speak to them again."
"You know," Gromph added, almost as an afterthought. "It would probably help if House Baenre spared some extra soldiers for the cause. A show of good faith and all that."
"Really? Do you think we can afford to spare them?"
"I know of two right outside this door who could be put to far better use," the archmage replied, giving his sister a last, meaningful stare. ***
"Explain to me again what you think I have to gain by trusting you," Quenthel said, gnawing at a strip of dried rothemeat.
The seven of them were hiding in a mess hall in an unused wing of House Melarn. Only Jeggred was no longer hungry, having sated himself back in the dungeon.
It certainly took Faeryl a long time to die, Pharaun thought, shuddering, as he sat watching the draegloth lick himself clean. The wizard was having a hard time blocking out the image of the drow, still moving, still watching, even as the fiend had begun to feast.
Ryld and Valas stood guard near the door, both of them obviously anxious to be on their way. The rumbles from beyond the walls had ceased for the moment, and Pharaun wasn't sure whether that boded well or ill for them. If the fighting had been quashed that quickly, it was only a matter of time before Ssipriina began searching for them again. He was eager to be away, too.
As Quenthel continued to inhale the food, Halisstra pursed her lips and tried again to defend her usefulness to the Menzoberranyr.
"I can get you out of the House without notice," she said. "I know the best routes to take. If we encounter any of Ssipriina's guards along the way, I might be able to dismiss them without incident. Until you're safely out of the city, having the two of us accompany you is to your benefit."
Quenthel nodded as she ate.
"Perhaps," she said, pausing to sip from a waterskin. "Or perhaps you would simply like to lead us into ruin in your own way, maybe by lulling us into trusting you so that you can betray us to Ssipriina. For all I know, you still hold me responsible for the death of your mother, or are at the very least angry about my intentions."
Halisstra rolled her eyes where Quenthel could not see, and Pharaun had to quell a bemused smirk.
At least I'm not the only one who finds her unbelievably irrational at times, he thought.
"Yes, all of that could be true, certainly," Halisstra said, "but then I wouldn't have had much to gain by helping to rescue you when Ssipriina already had you in her clutches, don't you think?"
"Hmm," Quenthel said doubtfully, another bite of food in her mouth. She finished chewing and looked over at Pharaun. "What's your opinion?"
The Master of Sorcere sat up straighter, surprised that she was seeking his counsel.
I suppose that when you're surrounded by the bigger enemy, he mused, the smaller enemy seems a friend.
"Well, thus far they've given us no reason to doubt them," he answered. "Except, of course, their heritage itself. Regardless of whether you're inclined to trust a dark elf you've never met - a dark elf of a House that you so recently intended to betray, at that - our options seem severely limited without their company. I don't suppose we'd be all that worse off, anyway, should they decide to turn on us at an inopportune time."
Quenthel made a face at the wizard.
"Are you thinking with the right part of your body?" she asked sarcastically, nodding in the direction of Danifae, who sat on a couch off to one side, listening to the discussion.
When she became a part of it, she lowered her eyes demurely and folded her hands into her lap.
Pharaun smirked.
"Oh, absolutely, Mistress Baenre," he said dryly. "Nothing would please me more than to have additional females along on this trip, all with a ready suggestion on how something should be handled or a friendly comment on ways I might improve my demeanor for the benefit of everyone around me."
Halisstra's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and the wizard remembered again that she was unaccustomed to his manner with Quenthel.
For that matter, he thought, noting the high priestess's scowl, Quenthel herself is unaccustomed to my manner.
Taking a slightly more conciliatory tone, Pharaun added, "With all due respect, regardless of which part of my body I'm currently using to contemplate this matter, it seems undeniable that we stand much to gain and little to lose by trusting them, at least for the moment. Ask me again in half an hour, and my answer might be markedly different."
Quenthel chewed her rothethoughtfully, though whether she was mulling his point or whethet she was considering whether or not to allow Jeggred to dismember him, Pharaun wasn't sure.
"In any event," he finished, "we can ensure ourselves some degree of protection by keeping them close, under our scrutiny. If they lead us into a trap, we might yet negotiate with Ssipriina Zauvirr . . . turn them over in exchange for our own freedom. Only if we don't tell the matron mother what happened to Faeryl, of course," he added with a grin.
Halisstra's flat stare told Pharaun that she found both his humor and his insurance plan distasteful, but Quenthel seemed convinced.
The Mistress of Arach-Tinilith nodded after tossing back the last bit of water in the skin.
"Very well," she said to Halisstra. "You will serve as our guide out of this accursed House, and if you serve us well, you will be rewarded with your lives. Do I make myself clear?"
Halisstra swallowed once, but she finally nodded.
"I think at least for the time being that your weapons and magical trinkets will stay safe and sound in our possession. If you behave yourselves, you may earn them back."
Both of the other drow nodded their acquiescence.
"Good, then let's be on our way," the high priestess announced, dusting off her hands after finishing the dried meat.
"Before we go," Pharaun said, "there is the matter of 'where' to discuss."
Quenthel looked at the mage.
"We are returning to Menzoberranzan," she said. "The expedition was a failure. Universally, Lolth speaks to no one, and the goods I had hoped to bring back with me to help us defend ourselves do not exist. We have nothing to show for the journey."
"Exactly," Pharaun countered. "We have nothing definitive to bring back with us - yet. I say we push ahead, continue to try to determine what is happening."
"But we have nothing to pursue," Quenthel argued. "We know little more about the Dark Mother's absence than we did before we left."
"That's not entirely true," Pharaun said. "As I mentioned before, the goddess's absence is not limited merely to our race. Regardless, I have an idea. Whilewe may not be able to discern any more information directly, we could enlist the aid of someone who can."
"Who?"
"A priest of Vhaeraun."
Quenthel rose from the chair where she had been sitting, fury plain on her face.
"You speak blasphemous words, wizard. We will do no such thing."
Even Halisstra had recoiled at the suggestion, Pharaun noted.
He raised his hands in supplication and pleaded, "I know it's unconventional, but hear me out before you dismiss the idea."
Quenthel began to pace, and Pharaun knew she was at least intrigued, if not happy, with the notion. Her desire to claim the glory of discovery in this matter rivaled his own, he supposed.
"Just what is it you think a priest of Vhaeraun - " Quenthel formed the god's name with a grimace - "could do for us? And where would we find one who could - or even would - aid us?"
Pharaun leaned forward eagerly.
"We struggle to see inside the Demonweb Pits," he explained, "but perhaps another god would not suffer the same difficulty. In this instance, with the proper sacrifices and deferential behavior, we might just be able to ask for a little audience in order to find out."
"Few of his ilk would even consider helping us," Quenthel said, waving her hand in dismissal, "and we know of none to even ask."
As Quenthel turned her back on him during her pacing, Pharaun looked over at Valas and nodded in encouragement.
Tell her,he signed.
Taking a deep breath and nodding, Valas said, "I know one."
Quenthel turned to face the diminutive scout.
"What?"
"I know a priest of Vhaeraun," Valas replied. "An old acquaintance of mine, Tzirik Jaelre. I think he would be willing."
"Really," Quenthel said, eyeing Pharaun and Valas alike, as though suspecting that the two were collaborating. "What makes you think he would help us?"
The mage carefully studied the tabletop in front of him.
She is too clever for her own good, he thought, knowing that if he admitted his foreknowledge, Quenthel was as likely as not to dismiss the whole idea just to spite him.
"He owes me a favor," Valas replied. "At the very least, he owes me enough to hear us out, even if he refuses. I don't think he'll refuse."
"How convenient. Pharaun?"
The wizard looked up, pretending to be thinking about something else.
"Hmm? Oh, yes. Well, it is very convenient that Valas knows someone who fits the bill. I wish you'd said something earlier," he said to the scout, "but I guess we can't all conceive of these flashes of brilliance. If Valas vouches for his friend then I say, what do we have to lose?"
Quenthel opened her mouth, possibly to retort, by the look on her face, but she never got the words out. A shock wave far stronger than any they had felt previously coursed through the House, knocking them and most of the furniture over.
"By the Dark Mother!" Halisstra screamed, stumbling against a wall. "The whole House is coming down!"