Insurrection

SEVEN

Its fortunate that Valas has been here before and knows the lay of the land, Ryld thought as he pushed his way through the throngs behind his companion.

The streets were more crowded than the previous day, if that was possible, and the warrior was sure that they would have made even slower progress if they'd been negotiating the web streets without a clue as to where to go for the right kind of information or the right kind of folk.

Ryld and Valas had set off shortly after the morning meal, the scout leading the larger drow into the lower quarters of the City of Shimmering Webs. At Quenthel's instructions, they were trying to find someone, anyone, who had supplies, equipment, and bodies available to serve them on the return trip to Menzoberranzan. Ryld still doubted the likelihood of the priestess acquiring anything worthwhile in the Black Claw storehouses, but he wasn't one to quibble the Mistress of Arach-Tinilith. He had seen the folly of that with Pharaun. Or rather, he had seen the difficulties. Pharaun seemed to be getting away with his insidious little remarks more and more frequently, and the warrior realized, too, that the mage had begun following his own agenda more consistently.

Ryld pushed past a cluster of illithids—illithids! Five of them standing on a street corner, and no one paying them any mind—and he followed the scout into a particularly squalid-looking taproom.

Ryld couldn't get Pharaun off his mind. The mage seemed to be able to talk anyone around to his way of thinking, and when that didn't work, he'd figure out a way to do what he wanted anyway and explain it all away later.

The warrior wondered how often his old friend had done the very same thing to him m order to get what he wanted.

Valas shouldered his way through the crowded bar, heading for the back of the place. It always seemed to be at the rear tables where information was brokered, and in this tavern it was no exception. Ryld took up a position to watch his companion's back while Valas sat down across from a surly looking drow whose piwafwi was tattered and stained. The drow was definitely no noble, though Ryld would never hold that against him. Growing up on the streets of Menzober-ranzan, the weapons master knew as well as anyone what it was like to be born a commoner.

A sava board rested on the table, and a game was in progress. Ryld could see that whoever had been across from this drow had played himself into a bad position and left before the inevitable conclusion. He found himself wanting to sit down and push a piece or two about, trying to stave off the endgame, but he forced himself to turn away, watching the crowded room for signs of trouble.

«We're looking for pack lizards,» Valas began, setting a few gold coins on the table as he reached out and made a play on the sava board, «some supplies, and a few sellswords who can guard all of the above.

The drow snaked a hand out from under his shredded piwafwi and scooped up the gold before Valas had even completed his move, one that was not really of much help to his position, Ryld noted.

Better to let the fellow continue winning, the weapons master surmised.

«You and just about everyone else in the city,» the drow chuckled, flashing a crooked smile that revealed several missing teeth. «Those kinds of things require more gold than the two of you are bound to have,» he added, giving Valas and Ryld an appraising look.

«Don't worry about the coin,» the scout replied while Ryld returned his attention to the room. «Just point us in the right direction.»

«Weil, then,» the informant said, «I know a gray dwarf who might still have a few lizards available—for the right price, mind you—that would serve you well enough. How about buying a round of drinks while I get someone who can take you to him?»

Ryld pursed his lips in consternation. He had hoped this would be a quick affair, but of course it was not to be.

The drow slid out from the table, clapped Ryld on the shoulder, and said, «My, you're a healthy one, aren't you?» before pushing through the crowd.

Ryld stole a glance down at Valas, who seemed to be studying the sava board. The scout made no move to lure a serving boy over.

«Are you going to order those drinks, or should I do it?» the weapons master asked his companion.

«Don't worry about it,» Valas answered, looking up. «When the wretch returns, I'll tell him I couldn't get anyone's attention in so crowded a place.»

Ryld nodded and turned back to wait.

It didn't take long for the filthy drow to return, and he had not one, but four big half-ogres in tow. Ryld's eyes narrowed at the sight of them clearing a path through the crowd none too gently.

«We may have trouble,» he muttered at Valas, who craned his neck to peer past the warrior.

«Let me out,» Valas insisted, pushing Ryld forward enough to slip out from behind the table.

The scout stood next to the warrior, and Ryld noticed that Valas had his kukris in his hands, though he kept them down at his sides where they weren't easily seen.

«These are the fellows I was telling you about,» the drow informant said to the biggest of the half-ogres. «They're the ones that's got lots of coin.»

Ryld groaned inwardly as the half-ogre, who stood a good head taller than the drow, grinned ominously.

«We were just about to go fetch a round of drinks, as you suggested,» Valas said, making as if to step past the half-ogre, who was blocking their way. «I guess we'll need a couple extra. Ryld, why don't you come help me carry them all? Then we can talk business with you boys.»

«I've got a better idea,» the half-ogre said, his voice deep and rumbling. «Why don't you sit down and tell us just how much gold you actually have? Then we'll decide if you can leave or not.»

«I don't think that's such a good idea,» Valas said, his voice steely cold. «We'll just take our business elsewhere.»

«I suppose a half-ogre would be stupid enough,» Ryld said to the scout, «to think that just because Lolth has gone quiet, we've forgotten how to fight.»

The half-ogre smiled and said, «That's a pretty good joke, dark elf.»

Then the creature lunged.

In the end, it was the most straightforward approach, Pharaun decided, that would grant him entry into one of the wizardly institutes. He knew all too well from his working knowledge of Sorcere's defenses that most forms of arcane stealth would likely be detected, however careful he might be. It was the nature of mages to be distrustful of other mages, and he had discovered that with a handful of different academies, schools, and research organizations to choose from in Ched Nasad, the local spellcasters were even more wary of one another.

Apparently, competition between the associations for luring new talent inside their halls was fierce, and the prestige garnered from successful recruiting paramount. True to drow nature, the societies weren't above using any method, however violent and underhanded, to shift the balance of power. What better way to get inside, Pharaun reasoned, than to pose as a prospective new member? All that it required was doffing his House insignia and asking at the front gates for the opportunity to speak with someone who could give him a tour, expound upon the amenities and responsibilities, and so on. He could easily pass himself off as a wayward wizard in need of a home without revealing his true level of expertise or the means by which he had acquired it.

The first place Pharaun visited was the imposing halls of the Disciples of Phelthong, run by the Archmage of Ched Nasad himself, Ildibane Nasadra. Pharaun figured that being the largest and best endowed of the various schools, it would have what he sought. However, he was careful to explain to the minor official who was sent to escort him that his interest, his area of specialty, lay in the study of creatures. It would be paramount for the facility to have a vast menagerie on hand if he was to feel truly at home. When he discovered that the Disciples did not maintain such a zoo, he politely declined to take a tour.

The second place Pharaun chose to investigate was known as the Arcanist Conservatory. It was neither the most impressive nor the least, but he picked it on a hunch. The drow who met with him after he'd explained himself to the sentries at the front of the edifice was an enchanter by the name of Kraszmyl Claddath of House Claddath, a short, surprisingly stocky fellow with slightly yellowing hair and bad teeth. Pharaun feigned skills of a middling nature as he introduced himself, and Kraszmyl seemed genuinely delighted to escort his guest through the premises.

«Tell me, Master Claddath, does the conservatory maintain a collection or live specimens on site?

«Well, if you mean the best menagerie of creatures from both the world Above and the Underdark, properly housed and cared for, then yes.»

Oh, how delightful!» Pharaun didn't have to fake his excitement. This sounds like the right place for me.»

«Tell me, Master Pharaun, what is your particular expertise with this area of study?»

Well, my last assignment was for a merchant who wanted me to study various breeding effects on roth herds,» the mage lied, «but I have a special interest in a new field. I am most curious to learn more about chitines and choldriths.»

«Really?» Kraszmyl seemed nonplussed at the idea as he led Pha-raun deeper into the confines of the conservatory. «Why in the world would you find such base creatures of interest?»

«Oh, they are tremendously fascinating!» Pharaun gushed. «While we find them to be nothing more than simple hunting sport, they actually have a unique culture and religious focus that in several ways mirrors our own.»

«Oh, I see,» Master Claddath said woodenly. «I hope you're not one of those odd cretins who actually thinks we should cease our hunting.»

Pharaun laughed. «Certainly not,» he said, «but imagine the possibilities if I could make them more of a challenge?»

«Yes, I could see the value in that. Well, here we are,» the guide said, ushering Pharaun into a wing of the facilities that contained countless cages, cells, and holding pens.

Pharaun had never seen such a collection of species before, and he was more than impressed.

«It is spectacular!» he said.

«Yes, it is, Master Pharaun, but I have concluded by your reaction that you have seen nothing of the sort before. Now, why don't you tell me the real reason for your visit to our little conservatory today?»

Pharaun carefully reached into a pocket of hispiwafwi, extracted a fragment of glass, and turned to look at the other wizard, who was shielded by a number of protections. He held a wand in his hand that he pointed at the visiting wizard, and Pharaun knew that the drow had already used it. Some sort of enchantment magic, he guessed.

Trying to charm me into explaining myself.

«Is this the way you greet all of your prospective new members?» Pharaun asked, smiling.

Kraszmyl looked mildly surprised, then tucked the wand away.

«No, just those wizards who show up out of nowhere, claiming to want to join our ranks.»

The other wizard produced a second wand and aimed it at Pharaun.

«Especially those foolish enough to claim—»

Kraszmyl Claddath's words hung in the air, unfinished, as he transformed into glass. Of course, hispiwafwi, the wand, and several other trinkets that adorned his body remained intact, but the flesh itself was pure, clear crystal.

Sighing in satisfaction, Pharaun pocketed the fragment of glass.

«If you hadn't been so busy expounding on my foolishness, you might have heard the words to my spell,» he said to the inert figure, moving closer.

Being made of glass, the short, stocky drow was heavy. Pharaun persevered though, moving the transformed dark elf into exactly the right position.

«Now, let's see if we can find what we're looking for.»

The Master of Sorcere felt the urge to hurry, for he doubted the menagerie would remain unattended for long. It would require many first-year students to clean and feed all the imprisoned specimens.

Moving through the aisles of cages, he looked around, trying to find what he needed. Even in his haste, he was truly impressed with the collection before him. He caught sight of some rather large cages in the back, but he had no time to satisfy his curiosity.

A pity, he thought, rounding a corner and continuing his search. I would like to spend a few tendays here.

Finally, after several rows, he came across the object of his desire. Sitting sullenly, her four arms sealed in some sort of resin casts, a lone choldrith glared up at him with decidedly humanoid silvery-white eyes. He squatted down to examine her.

She had charcoal-gray skin and was completely hairless. A set of diminutive mandibles, so small that Pharaun doubted they were functional, flanked her more humanoid mouth. Her ears jutted up beyond the top of her head, similar to a drow's but even more pronounced. Pharaun thought they looked vaguely like horns. From what little he already knew and had managed to learn about the species, he understood the necessity for the casts, to keep the creature from casting spells and freeing herself.

«I have a proposition for you,» he said in the common language of the Underdark. The choldrith stared back him, saying nothing. «I you can understand me well enough, but just in case …»—he fumbled in his pockets for a few items—«it's a good thing I came prepared, eh?»

He produced a tiny clay ziggurat and a pinch of soot. Quickly, Pharaun wove a pair of spells, one to speak her language and the other to understand it, then tried again.

«If you will answer my questions, I will free you,» he said. Her eyes widened with hope, then narrowed with suspicion. «You lie,» she said in a strange, clicking speech, like the sound of a spider. «All drow lie to us.»

«Perhaps that is true most of the time, but in this, I do not. I have nothing to gain by keeping you here and everything to gain by getting some answers.»

When she only stared at Pharaun again, he asked, «What have you got to lose? You're trapped in a cage in a drow city, and your arms are encased in resin to keep you from calling on the Dark Mother. Except that doesn't matter, because she, too, has forsaken you, hasn't she?»

The choldrith's eyes widened again, and Pharaun knew it was true. «You know about the goddess?» the creature asked. «Yes, and I'm trying to find out where she's gone.» The wizard wasn't sure, but he thought he might have detected what would pass for a smile on the face of the wretched being.

«Then she does not love the dark elves more,» she said, apparently to herself. «She has not abandoned the spider people in favor of you.»

«No, her absence has been spread generously about to all her worshipers, it would appear,» Pharaun answered. «What I'm trying to find out now is why?»

«The Dark Mother weaves her own webs. The Dark Mother seals herself away, but she will return.»

«What? How? What tells you this?»

«I will tell you no more, killer of spider people. Free me or not, I have answered your question,»

«So you have,» Pharaun acknowledged, «and I will let you out of the cage, How you find your way home is up to you.»

The wizard unlocked the cage door and stepped back. The choldrith edged warily toward the opening, eyeing Pharaun, obviously expecting a trick. He gestured toward the exit, palm open and up, and took another step back. The creature darted out of the cage and was halfway down the hail before the wizard caught himself laughing. He wondered how she would get the resin from her hands, but it was no longer his concern.

«Now that I know, it's time to go,» he said aloud to himself. «But first, I can't resist a little peek. .» and he turned to stroll toward the larger cages he had seen earlier.

Many of the larger cells were empty. It was the ones that were occupied that made Pharaun gasp. A creature unlike any he had ever seen before floated in one of the magically sealed chambers, something horrible and fascinating all at the same time. Its body was gray and soft, like the brain matter of creatures Pharaun had dissected in his younger days, with multiple tentacles hanging down from beneath it. A beak of some sort protruded from the front of the creature, but the wizard could not see any discernable eyes. It hovered in the prison, its tentacles hanging limply. Pharaun gazed at it a moment, then moved on.

The next creature he encountered was very familiar to the mage. The eye tyrant was a small specimen, no more than two feet in diameter. An adolescent, he surmised. The creature's eyes were all milky-white and scarred, effectively blinded and disabled. Still, watching the creature, Pharaun felt a little sense of dread.

From the other side of the great chamber, there was a shout, followed closely by a great crash and the sound of tinkling glass. The wizard smiled. That would be Master Claddath, warning me that people are coming. Thank you for the tour, Kraszmyl.

The mage wondered what kind of magical alarms he was triggering as he created one of his blue extradimensional doorways and stepped through to the outside of the Arcanist Conservatory.

No matter, he thought, allowing the magical passage to wink out as he floated between two levels of web streets, near a wall of the great cavern. They'll simply think my presence there was an attack from a rival institution. If anyone thinks to ask the sentries, I shall be famous.

With that, Pharaun drifted down to the street below and started on his way back to the Serpent and Flame.

He would have accounted the stroll back to the inn pleasant, had the streets not been so busy. All along the way, he caught snatches of conversation that centered mainly on the growing discontent of the citizens, the imminence of an attack from beyond the gates by all manner of fiendish armies, and the conviction that Lolth had abandoned the city to its fate. More than once, he witnessed the beginnings of a confrontation, but each time he saw trouble was beginning to brew, he wisely took a different route, frequently levitating either up or down to a different level to avoid the brawl.

«Pharaun,» a voice called to him as he was making his way through a lane filled with cheese shops, wishing the odors were a bit less. . well, stale.

Surprised and perhaps a bit unnerved at being flagged, he stuck his hands in his piwafwi, contemplating what sort of spell he might use to extract himself from trouble.

The wizard turned to find himself gazing at a beautiful drow female, her silvery white hair in lustrous curls down to her shoulders. She arched one high eyebrow at him and smiled, and he felt as though he knew her. Her dress was a bit unusual, and it lacked any sort of identifying insignia. Most telling of all, though, were the several auras of magic that she radiated, and he knew that she was not revealing everything.

«I beg pardon … do I know you?» Pharaun asked. In response, she merely winked and crooked her finger for him to follow. Wondering what dangerous game he might be embroiled in but fancying a bit of fun, the wizard turned and sauntered after her. The female led him along a few streets, mostly back ways, and up a number of sections, until they found themselves in a residential area. The drow ducked into a small abode and turned and looked at him expectantly.

Pharaun hesitated at the doorway, looking around the street for any signs that would clue him in.

«Come on,» his companion said, sticking her head back out. «Come inside.»

«Why would I want to do that?» the wizard asked. «You've very obviously cloaked yourself in some obscuring magic, so your efforts to deceive me are only partially successful. I think my well being and I will remain out here, thank you all the same.»

She simply smiled, and before his eyes the cloaking aura faded as her hair grew from light to dark, and her ebony skin transformed to the color of purest alabaster. The clothing she had attired herself in was transformed as well, into a black leather corset.

Pharaun smiled back.

«Hello, Aliisza,» he said.

«Now, come inside so we can talk,» the alu-fiend said, motioning for the mage to follow her and disappearing inside.

The interior of the home was small, if tidy, but it had the look of being lived in for a long time. The entirety of the place glowed with a soft violet hue, enough to illuminate the time-worn couch and table in the front room.

«I daresay this is not your place,» Pharaun asked as he watched Aliisza slink across the floor and settle provocatively on the couch.

«No, I'm just borrowing it for a while,» the demon said, reclining and propping a leg up. «I won't be here that long. Unfortunately, a home, unlike everything else in this city, is a bad investment at the moment. I doubt I could find a buyer, even if it did belong to me.»

Pharaun grinned wryly as he settled into a chair across the room from the winged woman.

«So you've noticed the unstable marketplace, have you?» he replied. «A shame, that, but then it's not your worry, since it's not your place. Where are the owners at the moment?»

The alu-fiend smiled again, but her green eyes sparkled dangerously as she answered, «Oh, I don't think they'll be coming back. We've got the place all to ourselves, you know.»

She turned over onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows and letting her feet wave lazily in the air above the backs of her thighs.

«Well, then, that holds promise,» Pharaun said, his smile widen-tng as he leaned forward. «But a clever girl like you must have things todo, places to go, kaanyr vhoks to see.»

Aliisza made a face. «Come now, wizard. You're not going to plead honor or some such nonsense to me, are you? Kaanyr is a long ways away.»

«It's not so much the Sceptered One I worry about, you lovely creature. It's me. My mother always told me not to get involved with bad girls, especially if they had wings. I'm just a wandering wizard, far from home. You might take advantage of me.»

The alu-fiend giggled.

«Contrary to what your mother might have told you, we 'bad girls' aren't always looking to take you home to the Abyss with us. Sometimes, we just like the look of a fellow.»

Pharaun looked down at his hands as he said, «Sure. And you just want to have some fun, right? I'd love to stay and keep you company, but I really do need to—»

«Pharaun, I already know what's going on,» Aliisza said, her tone serious. «Your Spider Queen has vanished without a trace, leaving no scraps of magic for the ladies, and you came all the way from Menzoberranzan to find out why. I really couldn't care less. «Well, that's not entirely true, I can't wait to see Kaanyr's face when I tell him, but it can wait. I just thought that before I head back to him and you went on your merry way back to your home, we might enjoy a little conversation.»

She sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the couch to face him.

«Besides,» she added, reaching up and beginning to loosen the laces of her corset, «you and I didn't get to finish sharing magic tricks.»

«No one's expecting me for a bit,» Pharaun chuckled. «I suppose I could stay for a little while.»

Ryld knew Splitter would be next to useless in such tight quarters, so he had already reached down and grasped his short sword. He slid the blade smoothly and easily from its sheath in one smooth motion, remembering the feel of it in his hand, the balance, even as he brought it up to defend against the onrushing half-ogre. He parried die blow from the creatures upraised mace, then made a neat slice across the beast's midsection.

The half-ogre jerked just the tiniest bit in surprise, and Valas was on the creature from nowhere, drawing one of his kukris across its hamstring. There was a burst of light and a crackle from the strangely curved blade as it struck home, and the beast howled and toppled as it clutched its gut and leg in pain.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ryld spotted sudden movement, and he ducked just in time to avoid a hurled mug. The cup passed over his shoulder and hit the wall near the table, shattering in a spray of pottery. Ryld didn't waste the moment evaluating the source of the attack. He slashed at another of the half-ogres, drawing a thin opening across its upper arm that welled with blood as the creature staggered back, then the warrior was spinning away and parrying a large cudgel that a third foe, off to his right, swung at him.

The confrontation was drawing the attention of other patrons in the taproom, and Ryld could hear more than a few of them cheering the half-ogres, cursing him and Valas, and perhaps eyeing a chance to get in on the action themselves.

This is about to get really ugly, the warrior thought, warily waving the blade between himself and the half-ogre that blocked his way out.

A crossbow bolt struck him in the ribs, but his piwafwi and breastplate prevented the missile from penetrating. Still, the force of the shot staggered him the slightest bit, and the cudgel crashed down on his left shoulder with a loud crunch. His entire arm went numb, and he nearly lost his footing when something hooked his leg behind and tried to topple him.

This is madness, the warrior thought as he scrambled back against the wall, shoving the table between himself and the rest of the patrons. Valas was nowhere to be seen.

Get him!» someone snarled from the crowd.

'Kill the dark elves!» another cried.

Yet no one seemed eager to approach him.

Ryld kept his short sword leveled at the threats in front of him as he scanned the room for his companion, wondering if the scout had abandoned him in favor of escape. It would hardly have been the first time Ryld found himself in such a position.

When a pair of quaggoths—huge, white-furred humanoids some-rimes known as deepbears—lunged at the warrior, Ryld was forced to return his attention to the difficulties at hand. Slashing with his short sword, he parried the spear the first creature tried to thrust through his chest, then sidestepped the second one's attack, which came very near to gashing his throat. A second crossbow bolt thunked against the wall near him, shattering against the stone.

At the same moment, Valas flashed into view again, having been hiding somehow in the middle of the crowd. The scout plunged both kukris into the back of the first quaggoth. Ryld blinked in surprise but took advantage of the opportunity to spin and slash low, cutting the second deepbear across both knees. Both creatures collapsed in sprays of blood as Valas joined Ryld against the wall.

«That was impressive,» Ryld said as he and the scout kept the shouting, cursing throng at bay with their weapons.

«When those two came for you, I saw a chance and took it.»

«How do you want to get out of here?» Ryld asked, surveying the room for any signs of escape. «Just fight our way through?»

«I don't know about you, but I've already got a means of escape,» Valas replied. «See you on the outside.»

With that, the scout backed into a shimmering blue doorway that had suddenly appeared at his back. Ryld had no time to gape as the door vanished from sight, leaving him alone against the horde of angry tavern patrons. A hobgoblin was closing warily from the right, while an ore and a strange lizard creature closed from the center and left, respectively.

Typical, he thought. Everyone but me must be able to blink in and out with those damnable doorways.

Ryld lunged in and cut high at the ore before spinning to deflect a blow from the lizard creature's short blade. The warrior kicked out at the hobgoblin and slashed again at the ore, this time catching his foe right across the cheek. Blood spattered, and Ryld began to work his way through the crowd, knowing he couldn't remain against the wall and hope to survive.

As he got in among the crowd and his opponents swirled around him, Ryld had an idea. Dropping to one knee, he made a couple of defensive thrusts as he reached down with his other hand and slapped the floor, calling up magical darkness. Nearly the entire taproom was engulfed in the inky blackness, and the battle cries of the crowd changed to the noise of confusion and panic. The darkness didn't bother Ryld. He was used to fighting blind, feeling and hearing his foes as easily as he'd watched them before.

The reaction of the pressing throng was exactly what Ryld had hoped for. Not eager to attack a foe they couldn't see and unwilling to get hit themselves, the crowd edged away from the warrior, giving him ample room. Reaching up, he slid Splitter off his back. With Valas gone, he no longer had to worry about controlling or shortening his swing. With the greatsword, he would be able to cut his way out much more quickly.

Not waiting for the unruly patrons to regain their wits, Ryld began slashing and cutting with bold stokes, clearing a path toward the door. The screams emanating from around the weapons master were unnerving to the rest of the brawlers. Quickly enough, Ryld emerged from the darkness, finding himself near the exit of the establishment. A couple more onlookers stood by the doorway, but when they saw the burly warrior appear with his great-sword leveled at them, they quickly scattered. Bruised and bleeding from several small cuts, Ryld darted through the exit and out onto the street.

Valas was leaning against a wall on the opposite side of the street, watching for him.

When Ryld saw the scout, he pursed his lips in displeasure, but before he could voice his anger, Valas nodded and said, «A lot easier to cut your way out of there without worrying about hitting me, wasn't it?»

Ryld opened his mouth to retort, realized that Valas was right, and snapped it shut again.

Finally, after the two of them began making their way down the thoroughfare, the warrior said, «The next place we try, we're taking a table near the front door.»

It was only after Ryld realized that they weren't having to push their way through the crowds on the street, who parted for them warily, did he realize that he was still carrying Splitter in his hand, the blade dripping with blood.