R.A. Salvatore's War of the Spider Queen: Dissolution, Insurrection, Condemnation (90 page)

“I could have told you that,” Aliisza said, sitting up, though she was still breathing heavily from her ordeal. “Here . . . he insisted we bring these.”

She tossed two backpacks at Quenthel’s feet.

“So, how do we remove the poison?” Ryld asked Quenthel, looking up from where he was tending to the Master of Sorcere. “Do any of you have the magic to do so?”

Quenthel shook her head.

“Yngoth can sense it in his body,” she said, patting the whip that was once again hanging from her hip, “but my spells are, of course, lost.”

Ryld looked at both Halisstra and Danifae.

“How about either of you?”

Both females shook their heads.

“I dabble in a bit of arcane magic,” Halisstra confessed, “but I am not yet powerful enough to eliminate poison.”

Jeggred continued his vigil over Aliisza but said, “Perhaps our good friend the ambassador had some means of aiding him.” The draegloth nudged the satchel at his feet.

“You’d better hope she did,” Ryld muttered at the unconscious Pharaun, sliding the pack over toward Quenthel. “There’s nothing else we can do for you, my friend.”

Pharaun was sweating profusely. Ryld knew the wizard might be their single best chance to escape the city. If they lost him, they might very well be trapped, unless Valas could find a way out.

Quenthel began rummaging through Faeryl’s things, flinging clothing and personal items to the side. As she dug her way toward the bottom, Ryld thought he heard the high priestess mutter something disparaging about the ambassador and a comment about her being a waste of space then her face brightened as she pulled a thick tube free.

“Ah
ha!
” she said triumphantly. “Let’s hope these are spells.”

She opened the tube, slid out a handful of parchment pages and unfurled them, scanning their contents quickly.

“Oh, how delightful,” she said. “Faeryl, you clever girl, where in the Underdark did you steal these from?”

Both Halisstra and Danifae crowded around the Mistress of Arach-Tinilith, each of them trying to get a glimpse of what was on the pages. The weapons master could see looks of elation on their faces.

“Is there anything helpful?” Ryld demanded. “Something to neutralize the poison?”

“I don’t know, yet,” Quenthel snapped. “Give me a moment.”

She continued to scan the pages, leafing through them rapidly.

“Several of these could prove quite helpful,” she said, “but I don’t see—oh, wait. Yes! Pharaun Mizzrym, you are in luck. Give me some room,” she said, motioning for Ryld to move out of the way.

The weapons master did so, sliding off to the side as Quenthel knelt beside the wizard. Laying one hand atop the wound, the high priestess began chanting, reading through the words on the scroll in her hand. There was a tiny flash of light as the handwritten text vanished from the page, and a soft glow passed through Pharaun’s body, emanating from the point where Quenthel’s hand touched him.

Almost immediately, the Master of Sorcere’s breathing slowed, and he seemed more relaxed. His eyes were still closed, but he was smiling.

“My thanks, Mistress Quenthel,” he said, and he sounded about as sincere as Ryld had ever heard him. “I ran into a spot of trouble at the inn, you see. A couple of fellows in the employ of Matron Mother Zauvirr were decidedly unhappy that I paid the place a visit. They caught me off guard.”

“I find that terribly difficult to believe,” Ryld said, eyeing Aliisza, who was still sitting on the opposite side of Jeggred.

“Yes, well, I’m sure you could have given them a lesson or two on how to more accurately find the most vulnerable point in a wizard’s defenses.”

“All right,” the high priestess said, standing again. “Get that out of his shoulder, and I can heal him.”

She went over to her own pack, where she tucked the scrolls, back in their protective tube, into a pocket. She began fishing around in another section of the container and produced a wand, which Ryld recognized from before.

The weapons master turned his attention back to the broken end of the bolt. He checked to see if it was lodged against any bone, and when he was satisfied that it was not, he gave a fierce shove, pushing the head through Pharaun’s shoulder and out the back side.

Pharaun arched his back and cried out in pain.

“Damn it, Master Argith,” he muttered finally, breathing fast. “You certainly know how to welcome a friend back.”

The wizard closed his eyes, still grimacing.

“I think the greeting was entirely appropriate for someone who managed to get himself shot,” Ryld replied, once more making room for Quenthel to work her own magic.

The high priestess waved her wand over the freshly bleeding puncture and muttered a trigger word. The flesh that was exposed began to knit itself together, closing the hole and forming a pale gray scar on his jet black flesh. Pharaun sighed as Quenthel stood up once more.

“There,” she said, returning the wand to her pack. “Now, try to avoid crossbow bolts. There’s only so much of that to go around.”

Ryld threw a glance at Halisstra and saw the drow priestess looking jealous as she watched Quenthel store away the wand.

To the victor goes the spoils, he thought grimly. You bowed your head to her and named her your mistress . . . don’t expect any generosity in return.

Pharaun was sitting up, helped by Danifae. He looked around. When he spotted Aliisza, still being guarded by the draegloth, he grimaced and pulled his hand free from the battle captive’s. Ryld glanced over and saw that the dark-haired beauty was frowning severely.

Uh oh, Ryld thought. This smacks of a jealous lover. Surely the wizard isn’t that big a fool, to lie with a demon. . . .

Pharaun managed to get to his feet and move over to where the demon sat.

“It’s all right,” he said to Jeggred as he passed. “You can stand down. She’s not going to bite.”

Jeggred studiously ignored the wizard and maintained his position.

“Look, I owe you for this,” he said, speaking low but not so quietly that Ryld couldn’t hear the conversation.

To his utter surprise, the demoness grabbed hold of Pharaun, her hands to either side of his head, and kissed him savagely. The wizard didn’t do anything to resist, though the warrior could see his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“Remember what I said,” Aliisza said, pressing her mouth to the mage’s ear, but speaking loudly enough that everyone could hear. “I will know.”

Ryld saw that she was staring right at Danifae as she said this. The battle captive caught the steely stare and turned away, a smile of amused disbelief on her face. Quenthel gave a disgusted growl in the back of her throat and spun on her heel to ignore the ridiculous display.

“Now, I’ve been too long in this city,” Aliisza said. “I’ll leave you all to whatever silly dark elf games you intend to play while the place falls down around you.”

With that, she opened a bluish-white doorway, stepping through as Jeggred snarled and made a leap for her, but she was gone.

“By the Dark Mother, Pharaun,” Quenthel snapped. “All of your talk about not tempting fate, and you’re off dallying with that . . . that
thing?
You are such a male.”

Pharaun shrugged at the accusations.

“Nothing happened,” he said, rubbing his mouth thoughtfully. “I went to get your things, I got jumped, and she saved my life. That’s the end of it.”

“See that it is,” Quenthel snarled.

Pharaun looked around, scratching his head.

“Where’s Valas?” he asked, and Danifae explained the situation to him.

The wizard nodded and said, “Yes, the sooner we can get out of the city, the more quickly we can figure out how to get to his friend, the priest.”

The Master of Sorcere raised a single eyebrow and glanced over at Quenthel.

“Assuming we’ve settled on that as our next course of action?” he asked her.

The high priestess gave him a single curt nod.

“Yes, you’ve convinced me,” she said. “Once we’re clear of Ched Nasad, we’ll need to decide the best way to reach this priest. I assume you have some means of getting us to where we’ll want to go?”

Pharaun nodded as he got slowly to his feet.

“I may, depending on where Valas tells us the fellow is, but I won’t be doing it today,” he added. “I have nearly depleted my assortment of spells. Without some rest and a chance to review my grimoires, I’m severely hampered.”

“Then let’s just concentrate on getting out of Ched Nasad and worry about that later,” Quenthel said. “As soon as Valas returns, we’ll see what he’s discovered and make appropriate plans.”

“The news isn’t good,” the scout said, appearing is if on cue. He climbed up and over the wall against which they’d been sitting. “Every major gate seems to be either heavily guarded or under attack, and the other places Halisstra mentioned are inaccessible at the moment. There’s no way out of the city.”

“Nonsense,” Quenthel said firmly. “Pharaun, do you have any means at all of transporting us? Some spell that would open a gate? Anything?”

The wizard shook his head.

“Then we’ll just have to clear a path through one of the gates. I’m sure that with the seven of us we can accomplish this.”

“There is only one way to find out,” the mage answered. He studied their position for a moment then turned to Valas. “We need to get up higher, above those duergar, don’t you think?”

Valas nodded and said, “The fighting is still heavy over in that direction. If we can avoid that, all the better.”

“Let’s not dawdle any longer,” Pharaun agreed. “We go up.”

Quenthel nodded her assent to the plan, and everyone prepared to depart.

As Ryld assembled his gear, he realized that he was exhausted. Between his exploits with Valas at the taverns, fighting their way into and out of House Melarn, and dealing with both the duergar and the spiders, the warrior hadn’t rested in over a day.

It has to be almost morning, he realized, and we’re not even close to being finished, yet. Let’s hope we can find a relatively painless way to slip past the gate forces.

The team set out, but they had to move in shifts, for Jeggred had to carry both Valas and Danifae to higher ground, and the draegloth, despite his immense strength, could only transport one of the dark elves at a time. Thus, half the group rose to the next web street overhead as Jeggred conveyed one drow, while the remainder waited with the other for the fiend to return.

The first team, consisting of Pharaun, Quenthel, and Jeggred carrying Danifae, alit atop a web street and discovered that it was actually being defended by drow troops. Several of the dark elves leveled hand crossbows at the four of them, and when they saw the draegloth, they nearly panicked.

“What in the Nine Hells is that?” one of the soldiers, an older male with plenty of battle scars, called out, pointing to Jeggred with his crossbow.

The fiend growled low, turning to face his would-be assailants, but Pharaun stepped between the draegloth and the others.

“Easy, there,” the wizard said, his hands out, palms up in a placating manner. “We’re just passing through. No need to get jumpy.”

Beside him, Quenthel sniffed, but when the drow soldiers saw that she seemed unconcerned by the fiend’s presence, they quieted down, returning their attention below them, where the fighting was still taking place. Jeggred departed to retrieve Valas.

Pharaun found a spot to take a seat and did so, reclining against a wall to rest for a few moments.

“Might as well get comfortable,” he said to the two females with him. “Rest when you can.”

Quenthel scowled but consented to sit across from the wizard, and Danifae settled down, too.

The trio’s rest was short-lived, though, for soon, shouts emerged from farther along the street. All the drow around them grew restless as word spread that dark elves from an enemy House were heading their way.

A priestess of middling rank came stalking down the street, accompanied by a pair of male wizards. They were cajoling the troops to form up.

“On your feet! It’s time. Get up, you worthless rothé, and fight! Fight for House Maerret!”

When she reached Pharaun and the others, she stopped and stared at them.

“What are you three doing here? You’re not part of this unit. Who are you?”

Pharaun gave the priestess that same placating motion that he’d used earlier and said, “We’re just passersby, not here to cause any trouble.”

“Well, you’ll join ranks, then. Get forward and help the other wizards.”

“We thought we’d better serve the cause by helping to watch this end of road,” Pharaun replied, smiling broadly. “You never know when those pesky grays will try to circumnavigate our flank and surprise us.”

“Get on your feet, wizard, and go join the other spellcasters. And you two! You can help me rally the troops and keep order. Up off your hind ends—
now!
”

Pharaun could see that Quenthel was about to lash out at the priestess, so before she could cause a scene, he pulled the drow commander to the side.

“Listen,” he said quietly. “We’re actually working on a special assignment for Matron Mother Drisinil Melarn. We’ve got permission to avoid the fighting while we take care of a very important mission.”

“Oh, is that so?” one of the male wizards replied coldly. “Well, Drisinil Melarn was my mother, and I happen to know that she was murdered by traitors before this civil war even started. Since you don’t wear a House insignia, I’m guessing you’re the spies who were accused of collaborating with her. Maybe it’s time you died.”

The Melarn wizard stepped back, reaching into his
piwafwi,
but before Pharaun could react, a voice drifted from behind him.

“Hello, Q’arlynd,” Halisstra said as she and the others floated up over the side of the web street.

The Melarn wizard stopped, peering at the priestess for a moment. Then he broke into a broad grin.

“Dear sister,” he said. “I thought you were dead.”

“When the fighting got worse, several of the matron mothers, including Maerret, came to the Dangling Tower and asked us to aid them,” Q’arlynd explained. “They said it was a full-scale civil war and the rebels were going to tear the city apart if we didn’t stop them. Matron Mother Lirdnolu explained to me what had happened to House Melarn. I knew Mother was dead, and we’d heard that she was killed by Ssipriina Zauvirr with collaborators from the outside who wanted to see the downfall of Ched Nasad.”