Insurrection
Chapter Three

Khorrl Xornbane could not help but tense slightly as the door to the private booth where he sat waiting slid partially open. His hand dropped instinctively to grip the doubleaxe at his side. Even when Zammzt slipped through the narrow opening on soft footsteps and settled onto the cushioned bench on the opposite side of the table, the duergar did not yet relax. He peered warily through the still-open partition into the hallway beyond, looking to see who might be lurking in a shadow, watching them meet. There were only three other individuals there, and none of them seemed to be paying Zammzt any attention at all. Two drow dressed as merchants, led by a third dark elf who was obviously a host of the Glowing Goblet, made their way to another booth and disappeared inside. Khorrl frowned as the host delayed a moment longer. The servant cocked his head slightly to one side, apparently listening to something that was said from inside the meeting cubicle, spoken too softly for the duergar to overhear.
He's just taking a drink order, the duergar thought. No need to get antsy.
Despite his self-admonition, Khorrl knew he would not rest easy for at least another minute or two. It would not be the first time some fool had allowed himself to be followed during a meeting with the duergar mercenary, and he never again wanted to be in such a position, caught unaware and forced to fight his way out of a corner. Not only had he barely escaped, but it had sullied his reputation to boot. That part had angered him most of all.
Finally, when he was certain no one was studying either of them on the sly, Khorrl relaxed, though he had to consciously release his grip on the doubleaxe to do so. He looked across the table at Zammzt, noting the lack of a House insignia anywhere on the plain-looking drow's clothing. For his part, Zammzt was reclining casually on the cushioned bench, the tiniest hint of a smile on his face. Though Khorrl didn't consider himself a great judge of attractiveness, especially in other species, it was plain enough to him that Zammzt's face was far from noteworthy. The drow was simply too ordinary looking. If he didn't already serve a noble House, he would have never amounted to much more than a common artisan, a step up from a slave but little more. Khorrl supposed the fact that he was such a shrewd negotiator was the dark elf's single biggest saving grace.
"I assure you, I was not followed," Zammzt said, interrupting the duergar's musings. "I would have known it, if someone tried, and there's no reason at all for anyone to do so."
"Why do you think I was concerned about that?" Khorrl asked, settling back himself. "I haven't accused you of anything yet."
"The sour look on your face and the furtive glances you keep casting out the door make it plain enough," the dark elf replied, "though I don't question your concern. You will no doubt be glad to know that I observed your arrival from a secure position, and I will tell you that no one followed you, either."
Khorrl stiffened slightly again, trying to decide if he should be insulted or impressed. Few creatures had managed to study him unnoticed, certainly not in recent years. For him not to notice Zammzt's observations was surprising, if what the drow claimed was true. The duergar narrowed his eyes, wondering if the dark elf was merely lying to impress him. He doubted it, but still . . .
"Then you must feel secure enough to speak freely, hmm?" Khorrl asked, baiting his boothmate to see what his reaction would be.
Zammzt's smile deepened the tiniest bit as he waved a hand in dismissal and turned his gaze on the table in front of him.
"Of course," he said. "Though I would think you'd prefer to wait until the host has brought us drinks first."
"I've already turned him down," Khorrl replied, giving his own wave of dismissal. "I don't care to partake while I'm doing business."
"As I'm well aware, Master Xornbane, from your reputation. I, however, have already requested that a refreshment be delivered to the booth. I believe I hear it coming now."
Khorrl turned his gaze for the merest of moments to the crack in the door, even as he opened his mouth to point out that he'd heard nothing. He started to turn back to Zammzt, but then did a double-take, for sure enough, the host from the other booth had appeared at the far end of the hall with a tray of drinks. Khorrl snapped his mouth shut again as he watched the servant first deliver a pair of beverages to the other booth, then proceed toward him and his companion. Apparently, in addition to his surprising ability to shadow someone, Zammzt also sported exceptional hearing. After delivering the drink and inquiring if the duergar had changed his mind and wanted something, the host departed. Zammzt reached over and pushed the partition shut the rest of the way.
"I think it's safe to discuss our business," the dark elf said, his red eyes glittering in satisfaction as he took a sip from his frosty mug. After a long pull, he sighed in delight and said, "Everything is in place. You should be receiving delivery of the first payment in thenext day."
Khorrl eyed the drow for a long moment before finally nodding.
"And the amount is satisfactory?" the duergar mercenary asked. "None of my people goes into the city until I know that we'll be paid what I said."
"Absolutely. My mistress has instructed me to inform you that your fee is more than satisfactory. For the services you will be providing, she considers it a small price to pay."
"Hmph,"Khorrl grunted noncommittally. "That remains to be seen, doesn't it? If she leaves me hanging in the middle of the fight, it won't have been nearly enough, and you know it."
Zammzt smiled that knowing smile again and nodded in acquiescence.
"I can only assure you that she and her allies intend to see this through to the very end. Once they set foot down this path, there is no turning back for them, either. You should be well aware of that."
"Perhaps, but if things go sour for us," Khorrl said, running his hand across his bald gray head, "I will come looking for her personally."
"Please, please. There's no need for idle threats here. The initial payment is coming. Just be sure you have the first group ready to go when it arrives."
Khorrl nodded, more firmly this time. He had never reneged on a contract before, and he wasn't about to now. His clan was getting paid an exorbitant sum to fight, and his employer considered it money well spent precisely because of that reputation. Clan Xornbane might be merely a mercenary band in the greater scheme of the duergar hierarchy, but he had always made sure they honored their commitments. That wasn't going to change as long as he was the head of the clan.
"They will be there," he said finally.
"Excellent," Zammzt replied. "My mistress is counting on it. Despite your assistance, toppling the rival Houses will not be easy. That is why she and her allies are paying you such a generous retainer."
Khorrl frowned again, thinking of what work lay ahead. The drow was right; overthrowing one drow noble House, even when their clergy was hamstrung, was no small feat. He and his males were expected to help bring down several. The clan would suffer losses in this, no question about it, but they had been eager to accept this particular contract, anyway. The rich reward of helping the dark elves destroy themselves paled only slightly in comparison to the payment itself. Those among Clan Xornbane who survived would receive larger shares for this work than for their last four contracts combined. It was well worth the loss of troops, especially among the lesser races of the front ranks.
By the Abyss, Khorrl thought. I might even consider retirement when we're through here.
"We will do what we're paid to do. You know our reputation," the duergar said, affectionately running his hand along the handle of his doubleaxe. "Though I would feel a lot more confident if I knew for sure that your priestesses won't suddenly find themselves kissed by the spider queen in the middle of the fight. It would be our downfall, and yours too, most likely."
Zammzt spread his hands in a placating gesture.
"That is a risk, to be sure," he said, almost - almost - sounding apologetic. "But the opportunity for my mistress and her co-conspirators is worth it. Rest assured, you will not be forgotten in this. She looks forward to the moment when she can thank you from her new position as one of the highest-ranking matron mothers in the city."
Khorrl nodded one last time and prepared to depart.
"Very well, then," he said. "We will be waiting for the first payment. The schedule is set."
He rose, pulling his doubleaxe up beside him. Before he slid the partition open, he turned to look back at the dark elf, who seemed content to stay a while and finish his drink. Khorrl caught the drow's gaze and held it.
"We're committed now," the gray dwarf said. "There's no turning back. Blood will flow in Ched Nasad. Mark my words."
Spinning, Pharaun summoned his magical rapier from the ring into one hand, and clasped hispiwafwi closed with the other, before he was completely turned around. As he pivoted into a defensive stance, releasing the rapier to dance in the air before him, he reached into the pockets of hispiwafwi,selecting by memory and feel the components he needed to weave a certain incantation.
Perhaps a dozen steps from Pharaun, a shimmering blue doorway, similar to the extradimensional portal he was fond of using himself, was just closing, winking out of existence. Thelovely creature he had spotted briefly during the rather one-sided battle with the tanarukks stood just in front of it, her smile accenting her arched eyebrows as she regarded him, arms folded casually beneath her prominent breasts. In particular, she seemed to find his floating, weaving rapier of interest.
"I'm sorry, did I startle you?" she purred, and Pharaun found her voice to be delightfully throaty.
"Oh, it's quite all right," the mage replied, eyeing the she-fiend from head to toe. She was dressed in tight, black, form-fitting leather, and while thigh-high boots and a corset seemed far from practical as travel-wear to the drow, he had to appreciate the effectiveness of the ensemble.
It compliments her wings so well, he decided.
"I wondered when you'd show up again," Pharaun said, noting with his second sweeping gaze the numerous daggers protruding from her belt and the tops of her boots. An enchanted ring he wore enabled him to determine that one of those daggers was obviously magical, as well as the long sword strapped to her right thigh. A ring adorning her left finger also caught his attention, for it radiated a strong protective dweomer.
"So you've been expecting me. How delightful!" she said, sauntering languidly over to a section of the balcony and sitting, leaning back and resting on her hands as she brought one long leg up to prop it on the railing. She appeared to ignore the fact that the rapier danced along as she relocated, keeping itself between her and the mage. "It ruins my grand entrance a bit, I suppose, but then again, I doubt you're terribly impressed with parlor tricks like mine."
"On the contrary," Pharaun replied, moving to take a seat a few paces away but maintaining the position of the rapier between the two of them. "I am always delighted to make the acquaintance of a fellow practitioner. You can't imagine how dull and dreary it can be, traveling with unimaginative companions who can't appreciate the difference between a divination and an evocation."
He swept his arm out over the side in the general direction of the other drow, who were far below him and well out of earshot.
Despite his casual manner, the mage was on edge and quite wary. He was sure the alu-fiend was sizing him up just as critically as he was her, and he considered everything carefully before opening his mouth. He certainly didn't want to reveal something that could get him into trouble with her later. Nonetheless, he was fairly sure she already knew where the rest of his companions were, and pointing out their positions lower in the cavern was not giving away too big a secret.
"Don't be too sure," she said, absently toying with the lacing that ran up the side of her corset, "I can imagine your predicament quite well. You forget the crowd I normally run with. They can't appreciate much beyond the next chance they'll get to eat or rut, much less the intricacies involved in spinning a good spell. What's a girl to do?"
When she finished, she gave Pharaun what he assumed must be one of her best pouts.
"Yes, I can see your point," the wizard said, chuckling. "It can't be much of a choice . . . rutting with the males, or seeking out a little more refined entertainment. I can't blame you for slipping away from them for a while."
"Oh, I never stray too far away from them," the demon said, looking at the wizard levelly. "One or the other of us might get into trouble."
Pharaun nodded slightly, acknowledging the hint. Still, he couldn't help but grin, delighted as he was to be able to engage in such clever innuendo. It was another thing he missed since taking his leave of Menzoberranzan. It wasn't just that most drow displayed a total absence of humor, his companions seemed even more staid than usual, though given the circumstances that wasn't totally unexpected. Still, they were a tight-lipped lot.
Quenthel was clinging too fiercely to the mantle of leadership to spend time mentally sparring with the wizard, Faeryl said very little at all, Valas was hardly in the same vicinity, and Jeggred's discussions had a marked singularity of topic to them. Pharaun had long since grown tired of hearing of the draegloth's desires to rend his foes in one messy way or another. Ryld had always been more willing to converse with him than most, but even the warrior had been pointedly taciturn for most of the journey. With the exception of a few brief discussions regarding Quenthel's heavy-handed methods, they had simply stopped the banter that had always marked the friendship between them.
It wasn't as though Ryld wouldn't talk to him, Pharaun admitted to himself, but things definitely weren't the same as before.
Before I left him to his death during the insurrection, the mage concluded, inwardly sighing.
Ryld had accepted the wizard's apologies afterward, claimed he understood the necessity of it, but in reality the pair's friendship had been damaged. It wasn't that Pharaun felt any real sense of guilt over the decision. He simply missed the benefits of the friendship.
"I said, you seem to be burdened with heavy thoughts."
Pharaun started, realizing that the she-fiend had been speaking to him during his ruminations. As he refocused his attention on her, he noticed that the rapier had sagged low from inattention and he snapped it back onto guard. Furious with himself for relaxing his vigilance, he summoned the weapon back to him and let it disappear back into the ring.
No reason to keep it out, he thought ruefully. If she'd wanted to get past it and at me, she already had the perfect chance.
The wizard bowed his head slightly, wordlessly apologizing for his lapse in manners. The alu-fiend only smiled.
"You certainly don't want to hear about my troubles," he said at last, his tone bright. "You obviously dropped in on this social visit for other reasons."
"Again, don't be so sure," the fiend replied, standing and stretching indolently. "It requires some fairly extraordinary circumstances to bring a band of dark elves through Ammarindar - "
"Oh, nothing of any real consequence," Pharaun interjected.
" - especially a mistress of the Academy and her retinue," she continued, ignoring the wizard's interruption. "Very extraordinary circumstances, indeed."
She was looking at Pharaun, perhaps gauging his reaction.
In fact, his reaction was the slightest straightening of his back and shoulders, but it was only the merest hint of his true surprise.
She knew.
A dozen thoughts floated through the mage's head in the next instant, considerations of who might have betrayed them, who back in Menzoberranzan had sent them off on this journey for the mere purpose of disposing of them in the clutches of Kaanyr Vhok and his minions, but the notions were dismissed again just as quickly. The risk of exposing the plight of the priestesses of Lolth was far too great to risk by such a method. The she-fiend had discovered their identity in some other way. Her broadening smile and sparkling green eyes told him that he had confirmed her suspicions.
"Oh, don't get too lathered up about it," she said, laughing. "Your secrets safe with us - at least, for the time being," she added, the smile gone. "But it brings me to my reason for being here. The Sceptered One, Kaanyr Vhok, Master of the Scourged Legions, lord of the portion of the Underdark through which you currently trespass, would delight in having an audience with you. I'm here to extend that invitation."
Almost as if on cue, there was a shout, dimly echoing, from far below. Without thinking, Pharaun turned and gazed over the edge of the precipice to the cavern floor below. There, Quenthel and the others had been in the process of crossing to a lower tunnel, one without switchbacks. Valas was rushing back from the mouth of the egress, apparently to join them. Behind him, a flood of tanarukks emerged from the passage and from others flanking it.
Observing the scene had taken but an instant, but it had been enough for the she-fiend to expend some sort of magical energy, which Pharaun could see radiating around her. He was on his guard, expecting an attack, but she did not move. Her green eyes, however, smoldered. Whether it was with lust or anger, he wasn't sure.
"I think you should accompany me back to the palace," the demon said, her voice husky. "You will like it there. Very much."
She began to saunter toward him as she spoke, and he could sense the energy flow over him. She was hoping to magically coerce him, somehow, the mage supposed. He backed up a step and put on his best apologetic smile.
"That, I'm afraid, is very much out of the question, at least for the moment. My companions need me."
The she-fiend's smile faded, and she pursed her lips in irritation.
"They are surrounded, you know," she said, pausing in her advance. "This is, at least for the moment, still an amicable offer. Go to them, convince them to return with me to Kaanyr's palace, and I promise you that the meeting will be cordial. My forces below have been instructed merely to hold their positions and prevent you and your friends from departing until I have a chance to make the offer to you. Will you do that?"
Pharaun smiled. "How well do you know Kaanyr Vhok?" he asked, his tone suggestive.
Her smile deepened, and her eyes glittered with what was definitely lust.
"Quite well," she answered, "but then again, he's terribly busy, so not as well as I would like. Come back to his palace with me."
Pharaun's own smile widened, and he asked. "What's your name?"
The she-fiend giggled once in amusement and said, "I almost forgot to tell you! I'm Aliisza. Now, will you come with me?"
"It's a delight to meet you, Aliisza, I'm Pharaun, and I'd love to accompany you, but for the moment, duty calls. Am I to assume that we will meet with resistance down there? Or has our discussion set your mind at ease to such an extent that we might pass out of Ammarindar unhindered today?"
Aliisza grinned and said, "I had my orders, dear. You were not to pass beyond the borders without a fight, but I tell you what . . . I'll give you a sporting chance, just because I like you." Her voice had turned husky again. "Just this once, I'll stay out of it. A few hundred tanarukks shouldn't cause you undue trouble, should they?"
Pharaun cocked his head to one side, as if considering that, then said, "Well, they will be a substantially greater difficulty than if we could move on unmolested, but as you say, it's a sporting chance. Until the next time we meet, then."
In answer, Aliisza nodded and smiled.
The mage leaned backward and dropped over the side of the precipice.
At Valas's distant shout, Quenthel looked up from where she had been staring absently at Jeggred's back, following the draegloth through the massive chamber. She spied the scout hurrying back from where he'd ventured ahead, and the high priestess spotted the hordes of tanarukks behindhim, emerging from the sculpted tunnel wall. She swore under her breath, and the five snakes on her whip writhed in mimicry of her displeasure.
"We are cut off again, Mistress!" K'Sothra hissed. "Perhaps there is another way?"
"No, let us destroy them; taste their flesh and be done with them," Zinda argued, her own long black body straining forward eagerly.
"That's enough," Quenthel snapped, starting forward again to join with Valas.
The vipers quieted somewhat, but they still strained to pay attention to their mistress's surroundings, trying tosense any other possible dangers.
The tanarukks did not follow the scout but instead fanned out into a defensive formation. It seemed they were content to wait until the drow came to them.
So much the better, Quenthel thought grimly. They can line themselves up so that the wizard can decimate them most efficiently.
"What are they about?" Faeryl asked, trotting beside Quenthel. "Why aren't they chasing the male?"
She gestured toward Valas, who was only perhaps fifty paces from them.
"Why should they?" Quenthel countered, letting her long strides quickly close the gap between herself and Valas. "They somehow know we must go that way. It seems they're content to wait until we come to them."
Faeryl sniffed at this but said nothing more. "We should wade through them and slice them, let their blood stain our feet as we tread upon their corpses," Jeggred suggested, his own long strides easily matching Quenthel's quicker ones.
The Mistress of Tier Breche looked over at the draegloth and saw him lick his feral lips in anticipation.
"Nonsense," she said crisply. "There's no need to get messy when they seem willing to oblige us by standing over there and letting Pharaun dispatch them with a well-placed spell or two. Right, wizard?"
When there was no answer, Quenthel spun to face him - only to discover that he was not behind her. Only Ryld kept pace with the two females and the draegloth.
"Where in the Abyss is that damnable mage?" Quenthel growled at Ryld, who raised an eyebrow in surprise and turned to look back.
"He was right behind me," the warrior replied, letting his gaze sweep back and upward, toward the tunnel through which they had originally entered. "I don't know - there!"
The weapons master pointed high up the wall, and Quenthel had to stop in order to turn around sufficiently to see where Ryld was pointing. When she spotted Pharaun, she muttered an invective under her breath. He wasn't alone. There was someone, a woman, in conversation with him.
"Who is that with him? What is he doing?" the high priestess asked no one in particular.
Ryld shrugged and said, "I have no idea, Mistress. I never heard him stop."
"Well, get him down here, now! I need him," Quenthel ordered.
Ryld made as if to protest, then shrugged, turned back, and broke into a rapid jog back along the thoroughfare. When she turned back, Valas had reached their position.
"So?" she asked the scout.
Valas took one deep, calming breath and explained, "They've cut off our route again, and they've made sure this time that we won't go around their flank."
The scout pointed to several other exits from the large chamber.
Quenthel could see already that more of the tanarukks were there, each group similar in size to the one directly in front of them. They were gathering on the ledges and ramps, just on their side of the tunnel openings. It wasn't hard to see that they were intentionally halting the drow's progress, trying to force them to turn back.
"Obviously, they aren't here merely to attack us," she said, thinking aloud, "so they must want something else."
"Perhaps I can explain," Pharaun said, materializing out of a shimmering blue doorway that hung in the open air only a few feet away. The portal snapped out of existence as the wizard primped himself a bit, straightening hispiwafwi and adjusting his pack. "We've been invited to join Kaanyr Vhok, the master of those fellows, for a discussion."
"What are you talking about? Who was that woman you were speaking with back there?" Quenthel demanded, seething at how Pharaun seemed so full of himself all the time.
The fact that he could still freely use his magic, while she could not, continually galled her. Though he might never say anything, she knew he loved flaunting the fact of it in front of her every chance he could. To add insult to injury, he seemed taken with showing unbridled politeness toward her. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. He wanted something, she was sure.
"We thought you were in trouble. I sent Ryld back to look into it," Quenthel said. She jabbed a single finger outward, pointing at the distant figure of the weapons master. "Now I'll have to send Jeggred to catch up with him while you stay here and explain to me what this is all about."
Before the high priestess could direct the draegloth to do her bidding, though, Pharaun cut in. "Oh, that's not necessary. Allow me but a moment." The wizard turned and faced Ryld, pointed his finger, and began to whisper. "Ryld, my dear friend, I appreciate your concern for me, but I am quite fine and standing here among our esteemed companions. You can return from your quest to rescue me."
In the distance, Quenthel saw the warrior start and straighten. He turned around as Pharaun spoke. Ryld seemed to shake his head in consternation, and Quenthel thought she heard him sigh, though of course it was only a whisper. By the time the mage was finished, Ryld was already trudging back in their direction.
"Very clever, mage," Quenthel said, clenching her teeth. "Now why don't you be as useful in other ways and tell me what you were doing up there."
"Of course. That was Aliisza, a charming and somewhat gregarious representative of Master Vhok's. She was lurking in the shadows back when we ran into them - " he gestured into the distance at the tanarukks - "in the previous tunnel. They answer to her, and she answers to Vhok."
"Well, how interesting," Quenthel said, folding her arms. "And just what did you two have to talk about for so long? You weren't, perhaps, coming to some sort of an agreement with her, were you?"
Pharaun looked genuinely pained and said, "High Priestess, I only listened politely while she extended her offer. I could not, of course, give her any sort of proper answer without first conversing with you. I suspected what your answer would be before I even mentioned the invitation, but I would be remiss in my duties if I didn't at least deliver the message."
"Indeed.," Quenthel said. She knew good and well that the flamboyant wizard before her wouldn't have given a second thought to betraying her and the rest of them if it presented him with some worthwhile benefit. "Interesting that she chose you to be her messenger boy."
Pharaun grimaced, but only slightly.
"We share a common, uh ... appreciation for the arcane arts," he said at last. "We spent a few moments in idle conversation about the difficulties of traveling with those who don't share that appreciation."
Quenthel snorted. "I'm sure you were interested in more than her wizardly skills."
The mage's grin didn't change, but his eyes hardened the slightest bit. Good, she thought. Remind him that you see right through him.
"Very well," she said. "We're certainly not going to go back with the brutes to see Vhok, so the question is, how do we get through them and on our way?"
"There's no way to get around them," Valas said, "unless the ambassador knows this area and has a notion of another route we can take," he finished, looking at Faeryl.
The Zauvirr priestess shook her head.
"We're still too far away from the proper outskirts of Ched Nasad for me to recognize any features with certainty," she said.
"Then we must slay them," Jeggred announced. "Let me engage them and cut a path for you, Mistress."
"No, Jeggred, there's no need, however much fun you might think it would be. Pharaun, here, is going to get us through this. Aren't you?"
The mage grinned bemusedly and said, "I might have an incantation or two that will allow us to make our way through to the tunnel. Aliisza has assured me that, in good sporting fashion, she will stay out of it. Slaying these creatures should be minimal trouble."
"I'm not concerned with that. Just clear a path for us," Quenthel commanded.
"Very well," he said as he began to move forward, weaving the beginnings of a spell as he did so.