Ричард Байерс - Dissolution

«You always say that, and you're always mistaken. The goblinoids will carry word of our whereabouts far and wide. The rogues are bound to hear.» «As will your sister and everyone else we've managed to annoy.» Pharaun uncorked a jug. The pungent liquid inside didn't seem to be fizzing, so he moved on. «Care to make a wager on who'll arrive first?» «Either way,» Ryld snorted, «we wind up dead.» «Had I wished to hear the dreary voice of pessimism, I would have detained our friend Bruherd,» the wizard said as he inspected a jar full of cloudy liquid. «Here's a jar of pickled sausages if you care to break your fast, but I won't vouch for the ingredients. I think I see a kobold's horn floating in the brine.»

He opened a glass bottle with a long, double-curved neck, and the contents hissed. «Aha! I've found the draught the Duskryn recommended.» «Someone's here,» said Ryld. The mage turned. Two figures were descending the stairs. They looked like orcs, with coarse, tangled manes and lupine ears, but Pharaun's silver ring revealed that the appearance was an illusion, disguising dark elf males. The wizard saw the masks as translucent veils lying atop the reality.

He conveyed the truth of the situation to Ryld with a rapid flexing and crooking of his fingers. «Gentlemen,» said the mage, «well met! My comrade and I have been looking everywhere for you.» «We know,» said the taller of the newcomers, evidently not surprised that a Master of Sorcere had instantly penetrated his disguise. He was Houndaer Tuin'Tarl, one of the highest ranked of the missing males, likewise one of the first to elope, and thus almost certainly one of the ringleaders. Certainly he looked like a princely commander of lesser folk. His rich silk and velvet garments, the magical auras of many of his possessions, and strutting demeanor all proclaimed it. He wore crystals in his thick, flowing hair—a nice effect—had close-set eyes and a prominent jaw, and looked as if he knew how to manage the scimitar hanging at his side. He also looked rather tense. «We've known for a while,» said the other stranger, whom Pharaun didn't recognize. At first glance, he appeared to be a nondescript commoner, with the squint and small hands of a craftsman proficient at fine work. However, the dagger tucked in his sash fairly blazed with potent enchantments, as did an object concealed within his jerkin. Evidently he'd layered one disguise on another. «Well,» said Ryld, «you took your time contacting us. I guess that's understandable.»

«I think so,» said Houndaer as he and his comrade advanced. A goblin moaned, and the noble kicked the creature silent. «Why were you seeking us?» «It's our understanding,» said Pharaun, stepping from behind the bar, «that you offer a haven for males who find existence under the thumbs of their female relatives uncongenial and who, for whatever reason, aspire neither to the Academy, a merchant clan, nor Bregan D'aerthe. If so, then we wish to join your company.» «But you two already did aspire to the Academy,» the aristocrat said. «You rose to high rank there. Some might say that gives my associates and I cause for concern.» The orc mask's tusked mouth perfectly copied the motions of his actual lips. Pharaun couldn't have created a better illusion himself. «You speak of the dead past,» Pharaun said. «You've no doubt heard I'm in disgrace, and Master Argith finds Melee-Magthere stale and tedious.» The dark powers knew, his discontented friend shouldn't have much trouble convincing them of that. «We require an alternative way of life.» Houndaer nodded and replied, «I'm glad to hear it, but what assurances can you give that you aren't an agent the matrons sent to find us?» Pharaun grinned. «My solemn oath?»

Everyone chuckled, even Ryld and the boy with the dagger, who were both quietly, thoughtfully watching their more loquacious companions palaver. «Seriously,» the wizard continued, «if our escapade in the Bazaar failed to convince you of our bona fides, I have no idea what other persuasion we can offer. But it didn't fail, did it? Otherwise, you wouldn't be here. So unless you perceive something in our manner that screams spy. .»

The faux commoner smiled. «You're right.» He turned to Houndaer and added, «They smell all right to me, and if they're not, I doubt a little quizzing in this stinking goblin hole will prove otherwise. Let's get them home before some servant of the clergy comes sniffing for them and finds us. Either way, it'll all get sorted out in the end.» For a moment, as the power of Pharaun's silver ring wavered, the drow's rnild, civilized tone became an orc's growl. He even smelled like a dirty undercreature. The Tuin'Tarl's mouth tightened. Pharaun suspected he didn't much like taking advice from anyone, his companion included. «I'm just being careful—as should you—but you may have a point.» He turned back to the masters and said, «If we take you to our stronghold, there's no going back. You'll aid our cause or die.» Pharaun grinned. «Well spoken, and quite in the spirit of a thousand thousand conspiracies before you. Whisk us away.» «Gladly,» the noble said with a mean little smile of his own, «as soon as the two of you surrender your weapons and that cloak of pockets.» The wizard crooked an eyebrow and said, «I thought you'd decided to trust us.» «It's time for you to show a little trust,» Houndaer replied. Pharaun surrendered his piwafwi., hand crossbow, and dagger. He was a little worried about Ryld's willingness to do the same. He could easily imagine the warrior deciding that, in preference to entering the dragon's cave unarmed, he'd subdue Houndaer and his companion there and then and wring what information out of them he could.

The problem with that strategy was that the Tuin'Tarl and his nameless companion might not be privy to all the mystic secrets held by the cabal as a whole, and those who were might flee when the two emissaries failed to return. Thus, while the masters would likely succeed in forestalling a goblin revolt, they'd miss acquiring the extraordinary power they sought. Besides, it would be much more fun to join, and undo the rogues from within. Apparently Ryld shared Pharauns perspective, or else he was simply content to follow the wizard's lead, for he handed over Splitter and his other weapons to Houndaer without demur. The Tuin'Tarl reached into his pouch, extracted a stone, and tossed it. It exploded in a strange, lopsided way, tearing a wound in the air, a gash the size and shape of a sarcophagus standing on end and the color of the light that swims inside closed eyelids. He gestured to the portal and said, «After you.» Pharaun smiled. «Thank you.» As easy as that? Pharaun thought. He was experiencing a certain sense of anticlimax, which was absurd, really. It had been astonishingly difficult to get this far. He stepped into the portal, and experienced none of the spinning vertigo of ordinary teleportation. Save for a split second of blindness, it was just like striding from one room to the next. The only problem was the drider waiting on the other side.

The wizard struggled not to make a sound. Still, the huge creature, half spider, half drow, a bow in its hand and a quiver of arrows slung across its naked back, turned toward him. Pharaun had no fear of a single such aberration, but the goddess only knew just how elaborate this trap actually was. He whirled back toward the magical doorway just as Ryld came through.

Ryld, who'd slain his share of driders in the caverns surrounding Menzoberranzan, knew that this one—a hybrid creature with the head, arms, and torso of a dark elf male married to the body and segmented legs of a colossal spider—was larger than average; a robust example of its species, if species was the proper term. Nature didn't make them, magic did. Sometimes, when the goddess deemed one of her worshipers insufficiently reverent, the punishment was transformation at the hands of a circle of priestesses and a demon called a yochlol. The Master of Melee-Magthere naturally focused on the venomous aberration as soon as he stepped through the portal, but like every competent warrior—and unlike Pharaun, evidently—he also took in the disposition of the entire area. The portal had deposited them in a large, unfurnished hall with a number of openings along the wall. It was the sort of central hub used in castles to link the various wings. A couple males were wandering through, and while neither had ventured into the drider's immediate vicinity, they weren't preparing to attack him or flee from him, either. Nor did the creature himself appear on the verge of assaulting anyone, though he regarded the newcomers with a scowl.