Pharaun carefully reached into a pocket of his piwafwi, 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, his piwafwi, 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 silverywhite 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 imagine 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 hall 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 widening as he leaned forward. “But a clever girl like you must have things to do, 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 the blow from the creature’s 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 from 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 sometimes 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 orc 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 orc 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 orc, 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.
R.A. Salvatore's War of the Spider Queen: Dissolution, Insurrection, Condemnation Page 51