Ричард Бейкер - Condemnation

“I’ve heard of Mistress Quenthel’s mission. So they made it to Ched Nasad?”

“After passing through Kaanyr Vhok’s territory, yes. They arrived just in time to witness the city’s destruction.”

“Did any of them survive?”

Aliisza shrugged and said, “I could not say for certain. They were a capable lot. If anyone could escape the city’s fall, they would have.”

Nimor tapped his finger on the table, thinking. Was Quenthel’s mission of investigation significant, then? He’d simply figured that the matron mothers had decided to shuffle the Mistress of Arach-Tinilith out of the city for a time in the event that she was entertaining dangerous aspirations. Still, it represented a wild card, an unknown factor that the Jaezred Chaulssin might be wise to take note of. A party of powerful dark elves roaming the Underdark might find the opportunity to cause all sorts of trouble.

“Did they find any answers to their questions?” he asked.

“None that I know of,” Aliisza said. She turned back from the window and glided over to the table again, then changed the subject. “You seemed very anxious to argue my case with the crown prince. Might I ask why?”

The assassin shifted in his seat and leaned back, allowing his gaze to rest on her.

“You touched on this already,” he said. “Either Gracklstugh is strong enough to defeat Menzoberranzan, or it isn’t. If it is not, then Kaanyr Vhok’s Scoured Legion is likely to tip the scales in our favor. If Gracklstugh is strong enough, then the Scoured Legion might serve as a useful check on Horgar’s aspirations. We wouldn’t want the crown prince to forget the details of our arrangement.”

“And why should the Scoured Legion serve as your army in the field?”

“Because Horgar won’t have you for an ally unless I persuade him that he’d be better served with Kaanyr Vhok’s tanarukks at his side than attacking his flank,” Nimor answered. “Besides, your master doesn’t want to sit at home while events unfold. He sent you here to urge the duergar to attack Menzoberranzan, did he not?”

Aliisza hid her smile with a sip of wine.

“Well, there is that,” she admitted. “So, will you ask the duergar to accept our help, or not?”

The assassin studied the alu-fiend while he considered the question. Agrach Dyrr was a useful ally, but he doubted that the Fifth House of Menzoberranzan had the strength to counterbalance Horgar’s army if push came to shove. Another force on the field would increase the chances of success for the Jaezred Chaulssin, and with three factions to work with, it should be possible to align two against the third in whatever combination was necessary to advance his goals. In extremis, the Jaezred Chaulssin could bring their own strength to bear, but they were not numerous, and it was always preferable to expend the resources of one’s allies before tapping your own reserves.

“I think,” he said at length, “that we won’t give Horgar the chance to refuse your help. Do you know of a place called the Pillars of Woe?”

Aliisza frowned and shook her head.

“It’s a gorge between Gracklstugh and Menzoberranzan,” Nimor said, “a place I have great plans for. I am certain that some of Kaanyr Vhok’s scouts will know the spot, and I’ll make sure you know where to find it. Go back to Kaanyr Vhok and have him bring the Scoured Legion to the Pillars of Woe with all possible speed. You will have your chance to assist in the destruction of Menzoberranzan. If the crown prince proves completely unreasonable, you will have other opportunities available to you, but I believe that Horgar will accept your stake in events once he encounters your force in the field.”

“That sounds risky.”

“Risk is the cost of opportunity, dear lady. It cannot be avoided.”

Aliisza measured him with her smoky gaze.

“All right,” she said, “but I’ll warn you that Kaanyr will be quite put out with me if he marches his army off into the wilds of the Underdark and misses all the fun.”

“I will not disappoint you,” Nimor promised. He allowed himself a deep draught of wine, and pushed his chair away from the table. “That would seem to conclude our business, Lady Aliisza. I thank you for the fine supper and the pleasant company.”

“Leaving so soon?” Aliisza said, with just a hint of a pout.

She drifted closer, a mischievous fire springing up in her eyes, and Nimor found his gaze roving over the voluptuous curves of her body. She leaned forward to put her hands on the arms of his chair, and enfolded her wings around him. With sinuous grace she lowered herself closer to nibble at his ear, pressing her soft, hot flesh against him.

“If we’ve finished our business already, Nimor Imphraezl, it must be time for pleasure,” she whispered into his ear.

Nimor inhaled the delicious odor of her perfume and found his hands roving to stroke her hips and bring her closer still.

“If you insist,” he murmured, kissing the hollow of her neck.

She shivered in his arms as he reached up to unlace her corselet.

The crude paddlewheels at the sides of Coalhewer’s boat clattered loudly in the darkness, churning the black water into furious, white, rushing foam. The hulking skeletons in their well-like space at the boat’s center stooped and rose, stooped and rose, their bony hands clamped to the crankshafts driving the wheels. Relentlessly, tirelessly, they continued their mindless work, held to their labors by the necromantic magic that had animated them years, or perhaps decades past. Halisstra was no judge of waterborne travel, but it seemed to her that Coalhewer’s boat was holding to a pace that would be difficult to match. She risked a glance back over her shoulder to see if her companions had marked any signs of pursuit. Ryld, Jeggred, and Pharaun all stood in the rear of the boat, watching its wake. Quenthel sat on a large trunk just under the boat’s scaffoldlike bridge, also gazing back toward Gracklstugh. Valas stood on the bridge alongside Coalhewer, making sure that the duergar captain kept the ungainly vehicle to the course he desired.

Halisstra and Danifae had taken up the posts of lookouts, peering ahead to make sure they didn’t run headlong into trouble. Halisstra hadn’t bothered to debate the arrangement. The males were best placed between the rest of the company and the most likely threats, and Pharaun was probably their best weapon against any pursuit out of Gracklstugh.

The city itself was no longer visible, except as a long, low red smudge. The firelight of the dwarves’ forges could be seen for several miles across the vast black space of the Dark Lake’s open waters, a sense of distance that reminded Halisstra of the unnatural vistas of the World Above. They’d churned their way east and south from Gracklstugh’s waterfront for several hours, with no sign of anyone following, but Halisstra couldn’t shake the impression that they were not clear of the duergar yet. Reluctantly she shifted her gaze back to the boundless dark in front of the boat, and checked her crossbow to make sure it was ready to fire.

Halisstra carefully scanned her half of the bow, starting with the water close to the boat and working her way farther out until even her drow sight could make out nothing more through the blackness, then she returned her gaze to the boat and started again. Great stalactites or columns—it was impossible to tell—descended from the ceiling and vanished into the inky water at odd intervals, creating titanic pillars of stone for the boat to navigate around. In other spots the jagged points of stalagmites jutted from the surface like spears. Coalhewer steered well clear of those, pointing out that there might be two submerged rocks for every one that broke the surface.