Томас Рейд - Insurrection

Good, Pharaun thought. Tell them just enough of the truth to sound reasonable, without admitting anything.

«Attacked by what?» the leader asked.

The second-in-command handed the insignia back to him with a curt nod. Apparently it had passed muster, for the patrolman handed it back to Faeryl.

What business is it of yours?» asked Quenthel sourly. «Do you always make it a practice of interrogating caravans this way?»

Tanarukks,» Pharaun said, stepping forward and placing his hand on Quenthel's arm. «She hates tanarukks. She's been in a bad mood ever since. A good deepstroke will do her wonders.»

The Master of Sorcere could feel her bristle, but at least she didn't pull away from him. Beside her, the snakes of her whip stirred, but «key didn't flail about as Pharaun feared they would.

The patrol leader glared at Quenthel for a moment but finally nodded and said, «We make it a practice when the city is—«he stopped himself from revealing more, then turned back to Faeryl— «You may pass, but good luck finding any 'civilization' to enjoy.»

With that last bitter comment, he turned and motioned the rest of the patrol to part, creating a gap so that the entourage could pass through.

Faeryl nodded her thanks and motioned for the rest of them to follow her, then they were past the patrol and alone on the thoroughfare once again. Pharaun could see that the envoy was troubled by the patrol leader's words. He had to admit it was not a good sign.

«Let go of me!» Quenthel hissed, jerking her arm free, and the wizard blinked in surprise, having forgotten that he still grasped her and was steering her along.

«My apologies, Mistress,» Pharaun said, bowing slightly. «In light of the situation, I thought it prudent to try to smooth things over the best way possible. In a way, though, it was good. You drew attention away from the draegloth.»

«Fine,» she answered, still scowling. «We got through them, that's the important thing. Now, let's see just how bad it is inside the city.»

It wasn't long before the group had reached the gates of the City of Shimmering Webs. Continuing their masquerade as bruised and battered merchants, they passed through the guards there and found themselves inside.

It was chaos.

«You're late,» Drisinil Melarn snapped as Ssipriina Zauvirr strode into the audience chamber of House Melarn.

The matron mother of House Zauvirr forced herself to suppress the hot retort that she ached to unleash, contenting herself instead with pursed lips.

I am sincerely apologetic,» Ssipriina lied, bowing low to the other matron mother, knowing she mocked the other drow simply through the use of such formal comments and antics. «It could not be helped. I had urgent business matters to attend to, issues that keep your coffers full, Matron Mother.»

Ssipriina liked the dangerous glitter she was creating in Drisinil's hot eyes. It would be hard for the head of House Melarn to chastise her minion for working so diligently to keep her wealthy, and Ssipri-ttia knew that. That's what made these subtle jibes all the more fun. Still, I sped here with as much haste as dignity would permit,» Ssipriina added, «for I have good news. They have entered the city.»

«You're sure?» the matron mother asked. «Do you have any indication that they've changed their plans?»

«Yes, I am sure of it,» Ssipriina replied. «My male made contact with Faeryl only a few hours ago, and she informed him that they were headed toward the Fracture Gate in the lowest quarters of the city. Apparently, Mistress Baenre is still bent on stealing your goods. My spies saw them enter the city just a few minutes ago.»

Drisinil sat in thought for a few moments, leaving Ssipriina standing expectantly Finally the matron mother stirred.

«They don't suspect that we know, do they?»

«I don't believe so. I have instructed Faeryl to be as agreeable as she can to whatever Quenthel is planning, and I have my spies set to keep track of them, wherever they go. They won't know a thing until it's too late.»

«And you want to let them go through with it?»

«Well, not exactly, Matron Mother. I am suggesting that we let them get to the storehouse and get inside. We'll be there to catch them in the act. We'll have the proof, then, and we can present it to the other matron mothers.»

«Hmm, yes, I like that,» Drisinil Melarn said, shifting her considerable weight atop her throne. Her face held a look of determination. «I very much want to see Quenthel Baenre's face when she realizes she's not getting a single scrap of my wealth. I want her to realize she's just crossed the wrong House.»

Truer words were never spoken, Ssipriina thought.

«Yes, of course. I will make plans for us to be there before they arrive at the storehouse. I trust that you wish for me to utilize House Melarn guards?»

«Absolutely» Drisinil said. «She needs to see just who she is trifling with. I want a strong presence there, Ssipriina, and when this crisis is over and the council lifts the ban on exportations, I'll make sure you're rewarded for your patience and diligence.»

«Of course,» Ssipriina said, bowing. «I will see to this matter personally.»

Ched Nasad was a bustling city filled with drow, duergar, and even the occasional illithid during normal times, but Valas found it suffocating. The scout was certain three times as many creatures occupied the place than was usual. It was brimming with desperate, starving masses who pushed and shoved their way along the thoroughfares, raising a deafening rumble and a pungent odor.

The gate through which the Menzoberranyr had entered was near the bottom of the City of Shimmering Webs, a metropolis filling a huge, V-shaped trench in the Underdark. The entirety of the city was crisscrossed with massive calcified webs set aglow with magic, a hundred or more layers of pathways that ran every direction and supported the population. Thousands of rounded, amorphous structures clung to these huge webs like egg-sacs or cocooned prey, thrusting up or dangling below and housing the citizens, guests, slaves, and their businesses. Right now, it looked like a writhing colony of ants swarmed over the webs, for as far as Valas could see overhead, the streets literally vibrated with the masses of humanoids taking refuge there.

The scout would normally have been in the lead of the entourage, but it was nearly impossible to move, so crowded were the streets. Instead, Quenthel had ordered Jeggred to run point, and the towering fiend was pushing his way slowly through the throngs. Valas stayed close behind the draegloth, and the rest of the group pressed in close behind the scout, fearful of getting cut off in the madness and winding up lost, Valas noted that time and again sullen-looking faces glowered at Jeggred while he growled and rumbled at everyone to stand aside. They all did, intimidated by the formidable creature.

There were few drow low in the city, but just about every other race was present. Many of the slave races, as well as representatives of the other major Underdark nations, clamored with one another, shouting, pushing, bartering, or just milling about. The Menzober-ranyr stood out, and it was plain that they were being sized up by the populace. Sooner or later, there was going to be a problem.

More than once, Valas felt the brush of a hand or finger as someone in the milling crowd deftly attempted to pilfer a trinket from one of his pockets. He had already snatched two hands away from the charms pinned to the front of his shirt, leaving each with a nasty gash across the palm from one of his kukris.

Valas turned and glanced over his shoulder. Faeryl and Quenthel were both right behind him, the Mistress of Arach-Tinilith threatening bystanders with her horrid whip. Behind the two priestesses, Pharaun held his piwafwi closed and kept his head bowed, protecting himself from the press of the crowd. Ryld brought up the rear, using his bulk to shield the wizard in front of him.