Insurrection

NINE

Halisstra couldn't breathe. The blood pounded in her ears, making it difficult to hear what Matron Mother Zauvirr was saying. She didn't want to listen, anyway.

«I wish it wasn't true, Halisstra, I really do, but there's no getting around it. We caught her in the act, and when we confronted her, she wouldn't surrender. Your mother tried to flee, and the soldiers just did their jobs. By the time I got to her, I couldn't help her.»

Halisstra shook her head, trying to rid her thoughts of the hated words. Her mother, dead. It wasn't true. It couldn't be!

«No!» Halisstra cried out, pushing Danifae away. Her battle captive, all flimsy silks, was reaching out to her, trying to comfort her. «You're lying!»

She struggled to spin free, to get out of the room, but she found all avenues of escape cut off. Matron Mother Zauvirr's troops seemed to be standing idly by, as though they were merely guests in someone else's home, but they were strategically placed about the room to guard the doors. She looked around for some of her own family's soldiers, but there were none to be found. Matron Mother Zauvirr had planned well, delivering her devastating news from a position of strength.

Wilting, Halisstra sank down to the floor, unsure what to do. Only Danifae settled down next to her, making soothing noises and trying to reach out to calm her. She didn't want to be calmed. She wanted to slap the other drow, smack her across the room, but she knew better. If she had any hope at all of surviving this horrid situation, she would need the battle captive's aid. She had to think.

It wasn't so much that her mother was dead. Of course that didn't bother her. In other circumstances, she would have delighted in it, but there weren't any other circumstances. Her mother had been caught in an act of open treason against the city, or so Ssipriina claimed, and Halisstra had no way to refute it, despite the fact that it was a ludicrous notion. Her mother would never risk herself so openly, especially not aiding foreigners, regardless of how good the relationship was between their Houses. Not to mention the fact that smuggling the goods from Black Claw Mercantile out of the city would ruin House Melarn. There was nothing to gain from it and so much to lose.

Of course, when Ssipriina arrived in House Melarn's audience chamber, sat right down in Drisinil's throne and made her revelation, the unspoken implication was there. Drisinil was not acting alone. When the rest of the council learned of it, they would likely find. Halisstra just as guilty of the crimes as her mother. They would imprison or execute everyone in the family, dissolve House Melarn, and divvy up its assets. Unless she found a way to counter it.

She had no doubt that Ssipriina was behind it all, was somehow benefiting from the destruction of House Melarn, but in order to make it work, she would have to eliminate Halisstra, too. Halisstra had to move fast, but she knew that the other drow wasn't about to let the First Daughter of House Melarn out of her sight. Her only chance to get help was to send Danifae, and that would only happen if Ssipriina Zauvirr believed the battle captive was more interested in saving her own skin than in supporting her mistress.

Halisstra glanced over at Danifae, taking a deep breath to calm herself, then began to flash signs at her servant, working secretively so that only her companion could see.

You have to turn on me, she signaled. Convince them that you'd just as soon see me dead. Then get help. Go to House Maerret.

When Danifae gave an almost imperceptible nod, Halisstra reached out and slapped her. Hard. The blow sent the battle captive falling backward, skidding across the floor. Danifae's eyes widened as her hand flew up to her cheek, but before she could open her mouth to spoil the effect, Halisstra screamed at her.

«How dare you suggest such a thing! I would never consider it!»

Danifae's red eyes narrowed, and whether the venomous look was genuine or part of the ploy, Halisstra wasn't sure.

«Then rot in a cell until they put your head on a pike, Mistress.» She stood, deliberately brushing her backside, straightening the flimsy silks that did little to conceal her curvaceous body. «If you won't, then I'll do it and save myself.»

Danifae turned to Ssipriina and said, «Mistress Zauvirr, I humbly beg you to help me procure my release from her» She sneered this last as she jerked a thumb down at Halisstra, who was still sitting on the floor. «I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement that you would find gratifying enough to release me from my servitude.»

Ssipriina alternated between looking at the battle captive before her and the noble daughter on the floor, blinking in surprise at the outburst. She opened her mouth as if to say something, then snapped it shut again.

Danifae, taking advantage of the silence, continued, «I'm just now starting to recall conversations with Mistress Halisstra that I think might implicate her. Given a few moments alone in her chambers, I could recall even more evidence that proves her foreknowledge in these disgraceful, treasonous acts.»

She looked down at Halisstra, a knowing smirk on her face.

Despite the fact that she knew her servant was playing the part— at least she hoped that's all it was—Halisstra shuddered at the look on Danifae's face. Not having to try very hard to look scared, Drisinil's daughter took another deep breath.

«Matron Mother,» Halisstra said, «I assure you I had absolutely no previous awareness of any possible plots of my mother's. My battle captive is obviously lying to you, trying to save her own worthless hide in exchange for damning me with false accusations. You cannot possibly accept the word of a battle captive. She would tell you anything to see me come to a bad end.»

Ssipriina looked down at Halisstra for another moment and laughed.

«Of course she would, silly girl, and how fortunate for me.» The matron mother turned to Danifae, smiled, and said, «Perhaps we can come to some sort of an agreement. Go and see what you can uncover.»

Danifae smiled and bowed deeply to Matron Mother Zauvirr, then turned to depart. As she spun on one heel, she looked down at Halisstra, sneering.

As Halisstra let her gaze follow the backside of her servant, she heard Ssipriina take a deep breath.

«Now, what to do with you …» the matron mother said in a most unpleasant tone.

Faeryl Zauvirr loomed over her prisoner, smiling in delight. The beads of dampness that glistened on Quenthel Baenre's forehead ran in rivulets into her eyes, making her blink and squint. Her mouth was frozen in a grimace of pain and misery, though it was difficult for her to effect any other expression, with the rothhide-bound dowel wedged so deeply into her mouth. The bit was held tightly in place with braided cord tied rightly behind her neck. Her long white hair was matted limply around her head and spread across the top of the table upon which she lay.

Faeryl stepped back from the table where Quenthel was stretched tightly, her wrists and ankles locked into manacles at either end of the long, narrow rack. The high priestess's naked body was taut, like the string of an instrument, and coated in a sheen of sweat that glimmered in the light of the braziers, but still Faeryl was not satisfied.

«Perhaps we should try the needles again,» the ambassador mused aloud. «They fit so easily beneath the toenails, and it is such fun.»

Quenthel grunted and shook her head, her red eyes wide.

«No? Then maybe there's something in here that I can use to amuse myself,» Faeryl said, turning to one of the braziers and sorting the tools resting in it. «Some of these are glowing nicely, now. I've heard that these blunt ones are especially good for the eyes.»

The grunts increased in rhythm and went up an octave.

Faeryl put her face back down in front of Quenthel's again, but she was no longer smiling.

«We've only scratched the surface, Mistress Baenre,» she spat, once again stringing the honorific out. The sarcastic tone was becoming second nature to her. «We've got endless hours to enjoy this, and I want to make sure you experience every last little 'pleasantry' Jeggred inflicted on me.»

Quenthel closed her eyes as a muted groan passed the bit shoved in her mouth.

Faeryl supposed the high priestess might be trembling, or perhaps it was simply the quivering of muscles, strained from being stretched so long. She chuckled and turned to examine the other prisoner.

Jeggred had been bound tightly to a stout column, lengths of chain encircling him from ankles to chin. The bonds were so tight, the draegloth could move only his head, which he tossed from side to side as he strained to break free. He snarled as Faeryl looked at him.

«Oh, I know,» she cooed, stepping closer. «You want to gut me, don't you? You want to spill my blood and dance in it.»

«You will die a slow, painful death,» the fiend rumbled. «I will see to it personally.»

Faeryl waved her hand in front of her nose.

«Stop talking, you vile beast. Your breath is most foul.»

Jeggred only growled.

Faeryl fixed him with her gaze and said, «Do you remember the things you did to me?» She almost shuddered but forced herself to remain still. «I am going to repay you for it… every bit of it. I'll send your carcass back to Triel when I'm through.»

Jeggred smiled.

«You can't begin to understand the methods of meting out pain. My attentions were but a part of those methods, and there is nothing you can conceive of that I will notice at all.»

«Oh, really?» Faeryl replied, her lips pursed. «We'll see. My advisors have told me what things you feel and don't feel. 'He resists the bum of acid and fire, and he will not suffer from cold and lightning, they said. But we'll find something. Yes, we will. Maybe sound, hmm? There is something you don't like, and when I discover what it is, you'll enjoy it for endless hours. I promise you.»

There was a soft step upon the stone floor near the doorway. Faeryl turned in irritation to see what the intrusion was all about. It was Zammzt.

«What do you want?» Faeryl demanded.

She knew the aide was there at her mother's behest and that she was undoubtedly being summoned to attend to the matron mother. It didn't make her very happy, and though she could not take her annoyance out on her own mother, she could easily do so on the ugly male. The dark elf bent his knee and dipped his head slightly.

«I beg pardon, Mistress Zauvirr, but your mother requires your immediate presence in the audience chamber.»

«Of course she does,» Faeryl snarled. «If she has the slightest notion that I am not indisposed, she finds something for me to do.»

When Zammzt hesitated for the slightest of moments, Faeryl gave him a cold stare.

«Well,» she asked, «what are you waiting for? Go tell her I'm on my way!»

Zammzt scurried out of the torture room and disappeared around the comer, his piwafwi flying behind him. Faeryl returned her attention to Quenthel.

«I'll come back and visit with you some more in a bit,» she said, «and when I do, I really want to give those needles another try. Maybe the fingernails this time, hmm?»

The bound form on the rack emitted a whimper.

«Oh, good, I'm pleased that you like the idea, too.»

Danifae Yauntyrr didn't really expect Matron Mother Zauvirr to grant her free run of the entire House, and her suspicions were correct. As she departed the audience chamber with a final sneer back in Halisstras direction, she was also careful to note Ssipriina's slight nod at two of the guards standing near the door. As she stepped through the portal, the guards silently and unobtrusively fell in behind her. The battle captive pursed her lips in the slightest hint of frustration, but she wouldn't have expected anything else. It really didn't matter. She'd just have to put on a bit more of a show.

Ignoring the two House Zauvirr soldiers who followed her, Danifae made her way back to Halisstra's private chambers, where she also took Reverie so that she could attend to the noble drows every need. She guessed that the guards would not be so invasive as to follow her in, and again, her intuition was right. She strode through the door and shut it behind her. Once she was alone, she began to pace, mulling possibilities over in her mind.

Halisstra had just provided her servant with a perfect opportunity to free herself from the other drow's subjugation. Danifae almost laughed at her mistress's gullibility, thinking that Danifae would run to try to save her. After ten years as Halisstra's battle captive, Danifae wanted nothing more than to be rid of the wretched drow and her domination. She wanted nothing more than to return to Eryndlyn. The problem was, with Halisstra's binding in effect, Danifae wasn't sure she could actually get free, even with Ssipriina Zauvirr's help. In fact, she suspected that once she actually did turn on Halisstra and provide the «proof» of Drisinil's daughter's guilt to the matron mother, Ssipriina would simply let her perish along with Halisstra.

Danifae knew she had to ensure her own freedom first and not depend on another for it. But how?

She hated the effect of the binding, for it was insidious in its effectiveness. Though Danifae didn't truly believe it, she sometimes wished that the compulsion of the binding fully controlled her mind, rather than merely restricting her ability to distance herself from Halisstra. She told herself that it would have been better to serve the Melarn daughter as a mindless zombie rather than of her own accord, attending willingly to avoid the consequences of straying too far from her mistress. It locked her to Halisstra as surely as a length of chain around their ankles.

In the early years, Danifae wanted desperately to throttle her mistress, but Halisstra's death would bring about her own, and Danifae would experience her own demise in a slow, excruciatingly painful manner. That was the nature of the binding. It sustained her somehow, kept her alive as long as Halisstra willed it. Distance was not a factor, but the moment Danifae disregarded Halisstra's wishes and went her own way, she had no doubt that the other drow would simply let her wither away like a mushroom with its roots hacked off. Displease the dark elf, and with a thought, Danifae would succumb. By the Dark Mother, she hated it.

The binding's magic was alien to Danifae. She didn't understand what was required to sever it or if it even could be severed by any hand other than Halisstra's. The risk of discovery was too great to allow her the chance to inquire, and besides, Halisstra rarely let her servant out of her sight. With Halisstra under arrest, Danifae had the perfect opportunity to follow through, to finally find out what could be done, and there was no time. Halisstra was going to die unless Danifae convinced Ssipriina Zauvirr to find a solution to her problem, and she doubted that the matron mother would lift a finger to help her, even with her promises of damning testimony against the daughter of Drisinil Melarn. That only left Danifae with the option of actually saving Halisstra.

Damn her! the battle captive silently screamed as she sat on her mistress's Reverie couch, pounding a pillow for good measure. She wanted to rip the stuffing out, but long years of the fear of punishment had trained her to resist letting her emotions get the better of her, and she stayed her hand. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she considered the situation.

The next problem, she realized, was that even if she somehow managed to extricate Halisstra—and by extension, herself—from this mess, life as they both knew it might very well be over. They might survive the coup, but even then, where would they go? Without Lolth's blessings to aid them, it was an especially bleak outlook.

Making up her mind, Danifae decided the next thing to do was to figure out who in House Melarn was still Halisstra's ally. The first thing she considered were the House guards. They had disappeared, and she had a pretty good idea why. Ssipriina had likely already gotten to them and given them the standard offer: change allegiance to House Zauvirr, or find themselves unemployed or dead. She doubted there were any who would still rally to Halisstra, but she had to at least look.

Danifae opened the door to the hallway and was slightly surprised to find the two guards who had followed her no longer present. She supposed that they assumed she wouldn't try anything as long as the House was locked down and had decided to go find something more interesting to do.

Just makes it easier for me, she thought, smiling as she slipped out.

She hurried on her way.

The audience chamber of House Melarn was pretty much as Faeryl expected to find it. Her mother was seated on the lofty oversized chair atop the dais at the front of the room, surrounded by her advisors, while House Zauvirr soldiers were spread inconspicuously but generously throughout the chamber. Faeryl absently wondered how her mother had managed to usurp control of the audience chamber without an argument from the House Melarn guards. Whatever lies she told them must have worked.

«There you are,» Ssipriina said impatiently. «Come here. I want to go over your story once more before the others get here.»

Faeryl sighed but dutifully approached the throne.

«Mother, I have the details memorized. I think I can—»

«You will go over them with me and continue doing it until Jam convinced, you ungrateful brat! You will not stop until then.»

Her mother looked entirely too comfortable in the throne, which was certainly grander than anything they had in their own manor. That was the difference between a merchant House and a truly noble House.

Faeryl longed to return to the dungeons, where she could rule over her charges in peace. She hated having to attend to her mother's demands. Where Quenthel was concerned, even if it was a little pond, at least she was the big fish. It was always that way. At the storehouse, when she'd orchestrated the transport of the prisoners, she had been in charge, however briefly. Under the scrutiny of her mother, she was the petulant child once more.

Faeryl dreamed of holding the reins of power someday, but being the fourth daughter in her House, and having been sent to Menzoberranzan to represent House Zauvirr and House Melarn, to boot, she recognized the limitations to her chance to rise to the top. Even were she to someday sit upon the throne Ssipriina Zauvirr was hoping to claim through her orchestration of the day's events, Faeryl would still answer to others.

«Now,» Ssipriina said, ticking off points one by one on her hand, «you were forced to come with Quenthel and the others. You notified me at the earliest opportunity what House Baenre was planning. We set up an ambush to catch them, and only then did we discover that Drisinil was in on it. Do you understand?»

«Yes, Mother,» Faeryl responded sullenly.

«Good. When the matron mothers get here, stay out of sight until I call for you. Do you understand?»

«Yes, Mother.»

«And stop that. It's childish and petulant.»

Faeryl frowned, but she clamped her mouth shut.

«That's better,» Ssipriina said. «Now I think we need to get those males summoned here as quickly as possible. Zammzt, I think that's a job for you.»

When a knock sounded at the door to their room, Pharaun expected to see Quenthel standing there. It was late, and the Master of Sorcere was beginning to wonder if something untoward had befallen the high priestess and her two companions. As he opened the portal, though, the wizard was instead surprised to discover a strange and rather plain-looking drow in the livery of a noble House.

«I beg forgiveness for disturbing you,» the male said, «but I am seeking the wizard Pharaun Mizzrym and the warriors Ryld Argith and Valas Hune.»

Pharaun kept his body planted firmly between the visitor and the interior of the room, shielding the other dark elf's view of it. Behind him, he could hear Valas and Ryld unsheathing weapons.

«Who are you?» the wizard asked, considering which spells remaining in his repertoire would suffice to defend himself against an attack.

«My name is Zammzt. I come at the behest of Matron Mother Ssipriina Zauvirr of House Zauvirr, Matron Mother Melarn of House Melarn, and Quenthel Baenre of House Baenre. Are you one of the three?»

«Perhaps,» Pharaun answered, gauging the fellow's potential as a threat. The drow was, at the very least, radiating a number of magical auras. «It would depend on why you're looking for them.»

«Mistress Quenthel is a guest of Mistress Drisinil Melarn of House Melarn. I am here to extend an invitation to you to join them for a banquet in your honor.»

«Oh, how delightful,» Pharaun said. «I assume that you can escort us there, as well?»

«Indeed, Master, uh. .

The mage rolled his eyes and said, «Pharaun. I'm the wizard.»

«Certainly, Master Mizzrym. I have been instructed to escort you to House Melarn.»

«I see. Well, then can you give me a moment to clean up? I'd hate to attend a dinner in my honor looking like this,» the wizard said, gesturing at his piwafwi.

«Certainly, Master Mizzrym. I am at your convenience. The dinner will not start without you.»

«Excellent,» Pharaun replied. «Give me just a moment, and we'll be right out. You can wait for us down In the common room.»

With that, he shut the door and turned to his companions.

«Either she got caught or she decided she was not getting treated well enough by the inn staff,» Valas said, frowning.

«Either way, it is no good for us,» Ryld added. «And I was just beginning to enjoy not being under any matron mothers' thumbs.»

«Well, then. . which is it, good masters?» Pharaun asked them both. «Out the window or to a dinner party?»

Ryld and Valas looked at one another.

Finally, Valas sighed, «Dinner.»

«Very good,» Pharaun said, «but before we go, I want to spend a few moments in contemplation of my grimoires. I have a feeling I might be in need of some arcane fortitude before the night is over.»

«Yes, I think that's wise,» Valas agreed. «Ryld and I could stand a bit of healing magic, if there's any to be had.»

«Why don't you two go search the priestesses' room and see what you can turn up?» Pharaun suggested. «I know Quenthel had that wand, but she's likely to have kept it with her. There might be a potion or two, though.»

The scout nodded, and he and Ryld slipped out of the room.

Pharaun opened up his haversack and pulled out his spellbooks, which were conveniently on top. That was the thing he truly loved about his magical carry-all. Whatever he needed always seemed to be on top. He sat down to peruse the pages.

The wizard could not recoup all of the incantations he had cast during the course of the day, as he would need to spend several hours resting before his body had recovered sufficiently for that, but he had wisely decided to hold off on committing the full compliment of spells to memory that morning, so he had an opportunity to choose four or five that would best suit the occasion.

Now, Pharaun wondered, what sorts of magical wizardry would be particularly useful for a dinner party?

He settled on his choices and began to study.

Nearly an hour later, the Master of Sorcere looked up at the sound of the two other males reentering the room.

«Ah, perfect timing,» he said. «I think I'm ready to go. Did you have any luck?»

Ryld answered, «It took a bit of rummaging, but we managed to confiscate two potions from Quenthel's belongings. That's one more thing we agreed that you get to tell her when we see her next.»

Pharaun chuckled, «Well, I must say, the draughts did you a world of good. You're certainly much more presentable than you were a mere hour ago. Are we ready, then?»

«I believe so,» Valas replied. «We did a quick surveillance of the inn, and it appears that our escort is alone. Nothing suspicious about him so far.»

«Then I suggest we leave at once,» the Master of Sorcere said. «I'm starved, and I fancy a taste of something better to drink than the swill we purchased last evening.»

Ryld and Valas exchanged looks, and the three of them found their way to the common room. The drow who called himself Zammzt was there, waiting patiently, but the look on his face told Pharaun that he was beginning to get a little nervous.

Probably wondering if we gave him the slip, the wizard thought. Worried about what he'd tell the macron mother when he had to report back that we wouldn't cooperate.

The stroll to the House would have been pleasant, Pharaun decided, if the streets weren't plagued by the occasional angry mob. Twice, the four of them had to make a quick dash down a side street or float to another level to avoid being engulfed in a tide of troublemakers. Ac one point, Pharaun thought he'd have to blast a way through the throng with a bolt of lightning or a ball of fire, but it never came to that. In order to keep up with them, Valas was forced to transport himself by way of an extradimensional doorway. This from an item Pharaun had, until then, been unaware the scout carried.

«You know,» he said as they moved into the highest levels of the city, where the most lavish of the nobles' manors were located, «I quite seriously doubt we should remain for the full evening.»

«What, you think the city is growing too dangerous?» Valas asked wryly. «If we had given it any thought, we might have considered packing our supplies and bringing them with us.»

Pharaun slowed a step, thinking, but then he proceeded, saying, «You're right, but if the situation warrants it, I can return for the goods myself later.»

The four drow arrived at last at House Melarn, an impressive bulge in the upper reaches of the city. The whole of the thing was stacked above the level of the street and also hung below it, and it covered an area two or three blocks wide and just as deep. To Pharaun, it looked like a massive cyst of some sort, which, he supposed, had been the intent of the architects who'd fashioned it.

The food and spirits had better be worth it, the wizard thought, sighing as he followed the others inside. Right now, it just looks like a prison.

Aliisza loathed the form she'd chosen for herself, finding it ugly and without civility. Oh, certainly any ore who spotted her would have thought her beautiful, but the alu-fiend considered the race repulsive as a whole. Still, it had its advantages.

At the moment, that advantage was that Pharaun would not recognize her. Following the wizard and his two drow companions through the web streets of Ched Nasad, being led by a fourth drow—whom she found to be rather unattractive—Aliisza didn't want her lover of earlier in the day to spot her. As well, she found it easier to avoid notice as one of the baser creatures rather than as one of the dark elves. The drow citizens might have outnumbered the rest of the other races combined, but they appeared to be fearful of being alone in public, and though Aliisza certainly didn't fear for her own well-being, she thought it best to draw as little attention to herself as possible.

Besides, she found that she could overhear more interesting conversations if she was not in dark elf form. The other beings tended to stall or whisper whenever they saw any drow about, but they were not so mindful of their words when it was just an ore, beautiful for her race or not. Aliisza could certainly understand why.

There was talk of rebellion or of invasion everywhere she went. Half the inhabitants seemed to think the crisis in the City of Shimmering Webs was an opportunity to end the drow reign once and for all, while the other half believed that someone else was already in the process of doing just that and that everyone already living there would pay the price for it. One thing was constant, whatever other opinions were revealed: Everyone blamed the dark elves for their problems.

It was the drow, she heard, who had angered Lolth. She had turned away from the city, leaving it to fend for itself. Others said that Lolth had grown weak and ineffectual from the complacency of her worshipers, and this had allowed other deities to overwhelm her when she wasn't expecting or prepared for it. The most intriguing rumor of all, of course, was the tale that seemed most recent. Spreading like wildfire, it claimed that the matron mothers had discovered a traitor in their midst, one of their own who had collaborated with a high priestess from beyond the city to bring Ched Nasad low.

There were a dozen variations on that story. The traitors consorted with demons, the traitors were actually demons in disguise, the traitors were stealing from the city, the traitors were preparing to attack the city. .

Aliisza had little doubt about the veracity of the story, for she suspected that the high priestess must be Quenthel. Somehow, the Menzoberranyr had been apprehended in the middle of her little scheme, the one Pharaun regretted mentioning. She was curious about Pharaun's role in the rumor, or the portion of the story that included a matron mother. The alu-fiend wondered if Pharaun had been swept up in the events or if spending the afternoon with her— she shivered with delight at the memory of it—had allowed him to stay clear.

Even if he hadn't gotten entangled in the matron mothers' schemes thus far, he was bound to eventually. She knew this with a certainty born of having seen the political machinations of her own kind drag even the most unwilling creatures into its webbing. Pharaun would have a part to play in the unfolding events, as much for his inquisitive, forceful nature as for his relationship with the priestess he so casually followed.

Regardless of what the wizard wanted, he was in the company of a stranger, someone obviously of a noble House by the insignia on his piwafwi, and he didn't seem to be under duress or coerced. Perhaps he didn't know what was going on. Aliisza would have to puzzle on that some more. One thing was certain, however: The effect the rumor was having on the populace was not good.

Aliisza knew she shouldn't care If Pharaun had been apprehended. Theirs had been a relationship of mutual satisfaction, no more, no less. He was a pleasant diversion from Kaanyr Vhok, and she knew she would return to the cambion, had always intended to do so. Pharaun knew this as well, and the fact that he wasn't bothered by the informal nature of their «chance meeting» in the streets was what had made him so delicious.

But the alu-fiend did care, at least enough to consider whether or not she should figure out if he needed her help. She supposed she simply wasn't quite ready to give him up.

She also knew that that wasn't the only reason she hadn't yet re-turned to Ammarindar to report to Kaanyr Vhok all she'd discovered thus far. Perhaps it was the multitude of sights and sounds in the city that attracted her still. Perhaps it was the exquisite feeling she got whenever creatures of the race she chose for her disguise—whether it be dark elf, ore, or yet some other species—admired her form. It had been too long since she'd experienced that. She also wanted to see events unfold in the city. She sensed the tension in the air, and she wanted to witness the violence, the chaos, should something come to pass. Ched Nasad was more than ripe for such a thing. The place was literally buzzing with energy, with anticipation.

The four drow she followed moved casually, yet they always seemed to be adjusting their course to avoid the largest crowds, and they never tarried near side web streets or alleyways. It was clear to Aliisza that they were moving warily. More than once, they magically bypassed the worst of the crowds, levitating or using the magical doorways that both she and Pharaun employed from time to time. They led her into the higher sections of the city, and soon it became apparent to Aliisza that she would have to either stop or change shape in order to continue unhindered. There were going to be few ores that high in the cavern, and she would draw attention to herself in her present guise.

Changing back to the drow form she'd used earlier, she followed the four dark elves farther, until they arrived at a large noble House, which they entered.

Aliisza found a quiet spot atop a building on the opposite side of the street and settled down to wait.