Insurrection
Page 8
«We've got to get higher!» Valas yelled at Quenthel over his shoulder. When the high priestess didn't seem to hear him, he repeated himself. «Mistress Quenthel, we need to get to a higher section of the city. This is not working!»
Next to him, Pharaun jerked as a crossbow bolt snapped against his piwafwi, Someone was taking potshots from the crowd.
«What do you suggest?» Quenthel called back, extending her whip and flailing at an unfortunate kobold that had squeezed to the front of the gathering and was shoved forward from behind.
«Follow me!» Faeryl cried, and she began to lift from the ground, rising up into the air. «We must get to the mercantile district, and this is the fastest way.»
No,» Valas groaned, eyes widening. «I can't—! I have no way to stay with you!»
But it was too late. The other drow had began to follow the ambassador's example and were lifting from the ground. Valas backed in to the center of what had once been their circle, warily eyeing the crowd around him.
«Ryld!» he shouted. «Wait!»
Valas saw the warrior look down at him, but before the other «row could take action, Valas was grabbed from behind. He tried to spin around and slash out with his kukri, but the grip on him was powerful, and he couldn't get a clean swing in. A split-second later, he was glad, for Jeggred was the one who had a hold of him. Coated in blood that matted the fiend's fur, the draegloth held tightly to the scout as he left the ground. A couple of bold gray dwarves stormed forward, intent on getting in a parting swipe with their war axes at Valas's feet, but Jeggred still had a large, clawed hand free and slashed out at them, forcing the pair of duergar to leap back to safety.
Several more crossbow bolts whizzed by, and one sank into the draegloth's flank next to Valas, but Jeggred only grunted and spun away, levitating upward to where the other drow had gone. Valas looked back down where they had been standing only moments before. Even as the webbed street receded, the scout saw the mob swarm over the dead ogres, ripping items of value from the bodies.
Savages, he thought.
Above, Faeryl had stopped on a smaller side street several levels higher than where the drow had been previously, in a quiet space between rows of vendors. In the main thoroughfare, the crowds were less dense than below, but only slightly. Valas knew they were still relatively low in the city, for the glimmering glow of spectral light that emanated from the mesh of stone webs still dazzled his sight when he looked up, twinkling far into the distance overhead. He knew that the higher they got, the better the neighborhoods would be. Near the top of the cavern, where the trench-shaped chamber was at its widest, the nobles had constructed their sprawling Houses sufficiently beyond the stench and noise of the common folk far below. The Menzoberranyr had quite a ways to go before they would be in that vicinity.
«Is it always that. . revolting down there?» Quenthel asked as the group settled to the stone avenue, huddling together and keeping their voices low. «Why do the matron mothers tolerate that rabble?»
Jeggred released Valas, who straightened and turned to look at the draegloth, wondering how much of the blood on the fiend was his enemies' and how much was his own. Much of Jeggred's fur was matted with the hot, sticky fluid, but other than the crossbow bolt in his hip, the beast didn't seem to bear any wounds. The scout examined his own clothing and noted sullenly that he was sticky with ogre blood, too.
«The lesser races are not permitted to wander so freely in the higher sections of the city without special permission,» Faeryl explained. «It'll get better once we get a little higher.»
«I doubt it,» the high priestess said, sniffing. «I doubt the matron mothers would suffer such an embarrassment lightly. Likely they're dealing with more urgent problems, and I think we all know what those urgent problems are.»
Over Quenthel's shoulder, Valas could see a trio of female drow who had stopped and were staring at Jeggred as the fiend yanked the crossbow bolt free with a grunt of pain. One of the dark elves whispered something to her companions, and the three of them scurried away.
Pharaun was making a point of dusting his piwafwi clean and straightening the garment so that he was looking stylish and well groomed again.
«You are most likely correct,» the Master of Sorcere said, nodding inacquiescence. «still, it would not hurt for us to find a place to stay for the night, gathering our wits and perhaps some more information, too. i'm sure that between the six of us, we can find out a little more about why the city is in this condition.»
«Finding a place to stay may prove difficult,» Ryld commented. «I wonder if there's a vacant room to be had in all of Ched Nasad.»
Valas frowned, imagining the looks they would receive as they inquired after accommodations.
If we can,» the scout said, «your bodyguard will attract substantial attention. Even now, we are drawing looks. We should not stay out in the open for much longer.»
Quenthel dug in her pack of supplies and produced a wand. Moving closer to Jeggred, she aimed the magical device at the drae-gloths bleeding puncture wound and uttered a few words. The bleed-ing stopped, and the hole began to close.
Be more careful,» the high priestess admonished her nephew as she stored the wand once more. «Healing magic is limited.»
Even as overcrowded as the city is,» Faeryl said, «the higher levels will not be that bad. I know of a place where we may be able to get rooms.»
«Perhaps we need to rethink this,» Quenthel countered. «It seems obvious to me that there are troubles here. I think it would be wiser to pay House Zauvirr and House Melarn a visit. We would be assured of accommodations there.»
«No,» Pharaun said, and Quenthel's eyes widened in surprise. The mage continued quickly, before the high priestess could lash out at him. «You may be right, but even so, you don't want to lose the opportunity to move about freely, do you? If we have any hope of staking a claim to the stock of goods and coin for your House, we must be able to avoid the matron mothers' notice.»
«Well,» Quenthel said, seeming to waver, «I'm uncomfortable with the idea of living like commoners in an inn, but your argument still makes sense.»
Valas watched as the high priestess bit her lip, deep in thought.
Pharaun continued, trying to press home his advantage, «You know they will tell us nothing if there is a problem. They will keep that information to themselves at all costs. This way, we can explore a little bit, try to discover possible clues to Lolth's disappearance. It will allow us the chance to determine what has brought Ched Nasad to this condition.» He leaned in close to avoid being overheard, as another pair of drow—males who had been strolling past this time— stopped and stared for a moment. «If nothing else, we can learn from this city's mistakes.»
Ryld turned and gave the pair of males a level look, and they quickly averted their eyes and continued on their way.
«Whatever we do, we'd better do it now,» the weapons master said over his shoulder. «Valas is right. . we're attracting too much attention.»
«Then shall I show us the way to the inn I know of?» Faeryl asked. «It's called the House Unnamed, and it's just—»
«You will do no such thing,» Quenthel interrupted. «You seem far too eager to help us, and at the expense of your own House.»
Faeryl gaped at the Baenre high priestess.
«Mistress Quenthel, I am merely—»
«Enough,» Quenthel cut the ambassador off. «Until I decide to let the matron mothers know I'm here, you will not be warning them ahead of time. Jeggred, it will be your responsibility to make sure she doesn't try to sneak off.»
The draegloth grinned, first at Quenthel, then at the ambassador.
«With pleasure, Mistress,» he said.
Faeryl grimaced at the fiend's attentions, and Valas wondered just what had happened between the two of them prior to the group's departure. She'd behaved in that manner during the entire trip. He made a mental note to ask Ryld when they had a moment alone.
«Now,» Quenthel said, tur
ning to the other three of them, «which of you knows this city best?»
«I have visited Ched Nasad a number of times, Mistress Quenthel,» Valas answered, and the other two males nodded in agreement, giving the scout center stage.
«Good. Find us an inn, someplace other than this 'House Unnamed. Make it a good one, mind you. I won't put up with the squalor you might be used to.»
Valas raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He found it interesting that the high priestess had changed her mind, agreeing to Pha-rauns plan without actually admitting to it. He wondered if they would have words about it later, but for the moment, he was happy enough to do as she had instructed.
«The quickest way to get where we want to go is going to be by floating there,» the scout said. «As long as Jeggred is willing to bear me, that is.»
Quenthel looked first at the draegloth, then at Faeryl, and said, You're not going to give me reason to have Jeggred or Pharaun kill you by trying to run away, ate you?»
Faeryl glowered bur shook her head.
Good, then lead on, Valas. I am weary and would like to enjoy the Reverie on a proper couch for a change.»
Jeggred lifted the scout up in one arm, and soon they were all rising easily toward the higher parts of the city. Faeryl had been right. As the group reached higher and higher elevations, the crowds abated somewhat. It was still busier than Valas had ever remembered, but at the higher levels, it was at least tolerable. He led them toward an upscale business section of the city, a zone where many of the lesser Houses, those with only enough power to make fortunes in trade as opposed to actually being powerful enough to run the city, maintained commercial offices.
It was this section, Valas knew, that many of the wealthy merchants from other regions of the Underdark frequented while visiting the city. The inns were extravagant enough that they would support the creature comforts expected by the trading community's elite, and they wouldn't do more than bat an eye even at someone as unusual as Jeg-gred. Valas hoped that there the Menzoberranyr would find a room that would satisfy Quenthel's need for pampering and not draw undue attention to themselves. If they could find a room at all.
Pharaun insisted that he be the one to negotiate with the innkeepers. The first two establishments nearly laughed in the wizard's face, and the third one made biting comments concerning the «Wrath of Lolth» before suggesting that a payment of submission for ritual cleansing would buy them the opportunity to share one room together. The fourth place had nothing either, bur the proprietor there, a half-ore blind in one eye, suggested a place that was near the edge of the city, two sections higher. He claimed that his cousin ran the place and catered to mercenaries who hired on with caravans—or at least, they used to, when caravans still ran. Valas wondered which side of the family the relation was on.
It took a bit of searching before the group finally found the Flame and Serpent, a sprawling hive of stacked cocoon-shapes nestled together where one lonely strand of calcified webbing was anchored to the wall of the cavern. It held promise, if only by virtue of its out-of-the-way location and its appearance.
Quenthel balked upon first seeing the inn, but Pharaun suggested that they at least inquire inside before dismissing any possibility, and the high priestess once again let the male convince her.
She really must be weary, Valas mused. She's letting him run the show today. «Well, one good night's Reverie, and that'll all change.
For a pleasant surprise, the inside of the Flame and Serpent was substantially more inviting than the outside had been. While Pharaun approached the innkeeper, a fat ore with silver caps on his tusks and two ogre bouncers to back him up, Valas looked around. There were certainly plenty of folk sitting in the tap room, and though Jeggred drew more than one lingering stare as he crouched beneath a ceiling that wasn't quite the right height for him, most of the patrons ignored them. Valas recognized why. They really were mercenaries, independents in the business for gold and little else, and as long as no one interfered with them or their livelihoods, they would keep to themselves. They were Valas's kind of folk.
Quenthel's expression was one of distaste, but Pharaun returned with a gleam in his eye and the good news that they had actually managed to get the Flame and Serpent's last two rooms. When the wizard mentioned the price, Quenthel rolled her eyes, but Valas realized they had probably still gotten a bargain.
«Only two?» Quenthel said doubtfully. «Then the males will have to share one, while Faeryl and I take the other. Jeggred, you, of course, will remain with me.»
Faeryl's face looked stricken at the prospect of sharing her quarters with the draegloth, but she said nothing.
The rooms were not in the same area of the inn. The larger of the two, the one Quenthel claimed for her own, was a round chamber with a separate bathing room. It was near the front of the structure, with several small windows that looked out over the city. From their vantage, the females could see the magnificent glowing web streets stretching off into the distance both above and below. The smaller chamber was at the rear of the Flame and Serpent, an elongated room with two beds and a divan for a third person. The lone window opened to the wall of the cavern, where rivulets of water ran down, leaking through from the World Above and trickling down to the bottom of the V-shaped city, where it fed beds of fungi.
It's not much of a view, Valas decided, but it might prove useful for leaving the inn unobserved.
I want to rest for a while, so you three,» Quenthel said, looking at the males, «stay out of trouble. We will convene at the end of the day and discuss what to do next over our meal. Until then, leave me alone!»
With that she stalked off to her chambers, dragging Faeryl and Jeggred along with her.
Valas agreed to rest on the couch, and as the three of them unpacked a bit, Pharaun stood and stretched, cracking his back.
«I don't know about you two,» the wizard said after a bit, «but I'm too excited to flop around here. I fancy a drink somewhere and maybe a chance to hear more of the buzz around town. Are you two interested in accompanying me?»
Valas looked at Ryld, who gave the scout a nod.
«Sure,» they both said in unison, and the three of them set out together.
* * *
Three drow males moving through the streets of Ched Nasad proved to be much more anonymous than five drow and a draegloth, though Pharaun supposed that a large part of it was due to the fact that he, Ryld, and Valas were sauntering along back web streets in a higher section of the city. As they strolled, listening to the din of business all around them, the mage couldn't help but be thrilled at the exploration of the city. Unlike Menzoberranzan, Ched Nasad was a cosmopolitan collection of sights, sounds, and smells that permeated the entire city. He could certainly detect subtle differences as the trio moved through various sections of town, but regardless of where they found themselves, the wizard absorbed it all, noting that the air vibrated with a kind of clamor, the feel of wheeling and dealing, that was only present in the baser areas of Menzoberranzan.
It was certainly more lively than Tier Breche, where Pharaun spent far too much time cloistered in the towers of the Academy, hidden away in Sorcere. Back home, he had made a habit of only getting out into the main city when he needed supplies or the occasional drink and bit of fun. It had been that way for many years, at least while his sister Greyanna longed to kill him. With her no longer posing a problem, he made a note to himself to partake of the more colorful neighborhoods of home more often.
As they strolled, Valas and Ryld seemed to be looking everywhere at once, but Pharaun knew that their attentiveness to the cacophony around them was due to a different reason than his own. Certainly, he was wary of a pickpocket or thug, but for the weapons master and the scout, it was what they had trained themselves to do for years upon years. They had honed their skills of wariness and observation to keen levels, and their entire beings reverberated with it. Pharaun doubted seriously that anyone in the city would get the drop on him while his two companio
ns were in tow. It was a comforting thought, if only because it allowed him to truly relax and enjoy the splendor of the City of Shimmering Webs.
The mage certainly understood why Ched Nasad had been dubbed such. The tangle of streets crisscrossed in purples, ambers, greens, and yellows for hundreds of feet in every direction, and it was a marvelous sight. Everywhere the three of them walked vendors hawked mushrooms, or jewelry, or potions. Pharaun noticed that the goods seemed of an inferior sort, though, and few people were buying—everyone had a hint of something in his eyes. Fear, he decided. Everyone looked afraid.
One filthy looking drow male had small cages, each one holding a small four-armed humanoid with multifaceted eyes, mandibles, and a spidery abdomen. They were no more than a foot tall. Peering closer, Pharaun could see that the creatures had web-spinning capabilities. They shrank back as he studied them.
«You wish to buy one, Master?» the male asked hopefully, jumping up from where he had been sitting cross-legged.
«Infant chitines,» Valas said. «The adults are hunted for sport, and whenever a nest is found the babies are brought back here and sold as pets.»
Interesting,» Pharaun replied and briefly contemplated purchasing one, though from the look of things, the drow male was having little luck drawing any interest in his wares. «I'd consider getting one—as a present for Quenthel, you know—but these seem over priced.»
The male's hopeful stare faded to disappointment, and he sat down on the edge of the street again.
Ryld snorted, and Valas shook his head.
«They're not too expensive,» the scout said as they walked on. «The market's probably just flooded with them right now.»
«Why is that?» Pharaun asked.
«Because chitines and choldriths worship the goddess, too,» Valas answered quietly.
«Choldriths?»
«Chitine priestesses. Same racial stock, larger and dark-skinned. No hair, human eyes. I suspect that they may be suffering the same calamity that has befallen our own clerics.»