Томас Рейд - Insurrection

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 companions 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.»

Pharaun's curiosity was piqued.

«Really,» he said, musing. «It might prove useful if we could track down some of these choldriths and find out if they are suffering the same fate. It's obvious that Ched Nasad endures the goddess's silence, too, and once we get proof, Quenthel may be at a loss for what to do next. This would give us the means to explore further, find out if Lolth's reticence is universal or just limited to our own race.»

«It's a nice idea in theory, mage,» Ryld said, shooing a goblin vendor away who was trying to convince him to buy a bowl of slugs, «but you'd be hard-pressed to track any down, and struggle even more to elicit information from them. The drow hunt them for sport, so the chitines and choldriths have learned to flee or fight to the death.»

«Hmm,» Pharaun responded, spying a little shop selling something he wanted. «Perhaps, but my particular talents could come in handy in such an endeavor.»

The mages companions followed him to a cramped kiosk selling spirits, which was hanging at the corner of two fairly large web streets. To reach it, customers had to slide down a steep ramp of webbing to the front of the vending stand, then ascend a ladder of webbing to return to the street. Pharaun studied the small crowd of people gathered around, each in turn descending the slide and purchasing a flask or mushroom cap of beverage.

«You'd think they could have put steps in on both sides,» the Master of Sorcere sniffed disdainfully.

«Oh, by the Dark Mother,» Ryld said, shaking his head. «I'll get us something.»

With that, the warrior moved through the crowd, very few of whom were actually buying, instead begging coin or a sip from the paying customers. Ryld ignored them and descended upon the vendor, while Pharaun and Valas stood out of the way of traffic and took the opportunity to absorb the sights again.

When Ryld returned, he had a bit of a strange look on his face.

«What is it?» Valas asked.

«That gray dwarf charged me ten times what this swill is worth and seemed to take a certain delight in it.»

«Well, a bit of gouging is to be expected, when caravan traffic has dried up,» Pharaun said.

«Yes, but when a goblin asked for the same thing right after me, I heard the proprietor sell it to him for half what he charged me.»

«Maybe the little thrall is a regular,» Valas offered.

«Possibly,» Pharaun said, opening the flask that Ryld had procured and inhaling a waft. He jerked his head back and scrunched up his face a bit. «I suspect it has more to do with relishing the opportunity to earn a little payback against the drow.» He took a sip of the brandy and passed the flask to Valas. «After all, who regulates the commerce in the city? Who gets first choice of all the best vending locations? Who runs the caravan system? Who acquires the best trade goods?»

«In other words, who sticks it to the other races with regularity?» Ryld finished.