Resurrection (13 page)

After a time, Quenthel too began to tend to her gear while her serpents eyed Danifae. Pharaun took that as a truce and settled in himself.

Each of the three rested as far from the others as the chamber allowed, their backs pressed against the web-covered tunnel wall. They ate in silence from the stores Valas Hune had procured for them long ago and brooded in silence amongst the chwidencha molts.

To occupy himself, Pharaun inventoried and organized his spell components in the many pockets of his
piwafwi.
Afterward he took one of his traveling spellbooks from the extradimensional space contained in his pack and replaced the spells he had cast by committing to memory the arcane words to new spells. Thinking that he might have to use his magic against Jeggred and Danifae, he chose his spells with care.

By the time he had finished, both priestesses had closed their eyes and entered Reverie. Pharaun assumed that both had surreptitiously cast alarm spells around them to warn of anyone approaching too near. He activated the power of his Sorcere ring and saw the soft red glow of a ward spell in the area around both priestesses. He smiled.

For creatures of chaos, he thought, drow certainly were predictable.

Unlike their mistress, Quenthel's whip serpents remained awake and alert. Two of them-K'Sothra and Yngoth, Pharaun believed-extended outward and kept their eyes on the tunnel in which Jeggred hulked. Two others kept their eyes on Danifae, while one of them, the female Qorra, kept her eyes on Pharaun.

Vaguely offended that he warranted only one watch-serpent, Pharaun stuck his tongue out at Qorra. She flicked her own in answer.

Pharaun ignored it, stretched out his legs, and settled more comfortably on his rock. He was tired but not yet ready to enter Reverie. For a while, he watched the rise and fall of Danifae's breasts. He did not allow himself to fantasize about her overmuch-he knew how well she played male lust to her advantage. Besides, it was only a matter of time before Quenthel disposed of her.

Pharaun finally decided that he too should spend an hour or two in Reverie. But first, he would cast a ward on his person similar to that which the priestesses had cast. It would alert him should any creature get closer than five paces.

Just as he began to whisper the arcane words to the spell, Pharaun felt a familiar tingle in his mind. He recognized it immediately, and a more pronounced tingle coursed through his flesh. He aborted the casting, delighted that the alu-fiend had tracked them down again.

Well met, Master Mizzrym,
Aliisza purred, her mental voice like velvet in his brain.

Despite himself, Pharaun grinned like a first-year apprentice at the gentle touch of her mind on his. While he knew she had her own reasons for tracking him and his companions, he could not deny that he enjoyed her attentions.

Aliisza, my dear,
he projected back.
We do meet in the strangest locales.

The times are strange, dearest,
Aliisza replied.
And strange times make for strange bedfellows.

One can only hope,
he answered, and grinned still more widely.

Quenthel's watch serpent hissed at his smile. Pharaun let it fade from his face, turned, and looked past the serpent.

Up the forward tunnel a stone's throw, he saw the outline of Jeggred's muscular form. The draegloth sat in a crouch, watching up the tunnel, his broad back to Pharaun and rising and falling with each stinking breath. Pharaun could not tell whether the draegloth was awake or asleep. Unlike the drow, Jeggred required actual sleep.

Quenthel and Danifae both were in Reverie, though both wore scowls. Pharaun was pleased. He would have only to deal with Quenthel's whip serpents.

The priestesses you accompany rest ill at ease,
Aliisza said.

It is a racial trait,
he answered, sarcastic as always.

They simply need a little something to tire them out first,
she said.

A
little
something?
Pharaun answered, playing at being offended.

Aliisza laughed.

What is the
Yor'thae? she asked.

The question gave Pharaun a start, but long practice kept it from his face and his surface thoughts. How did Aliisza know anything of the
Yor'thae?

Apparently sensing his agitation, the serpent watching Pharaun uttered a soft hiss. Pharaun pretended not to have heard it and settled more comfortably onto his rock.

How do you know that word?
he asked.

She let her mental fingers caress his brain playfully.
The Lower Planes resound with it. It's in the wind, the screams of tortured souls, the rush of boiling water. What is it, dear heart?

Pharaun heard none but the usual guile in her tone so he answered her truthfully:
The
Yor'thae
is Lolth's Chosen.

Oooh,
Aliisza said.
Which is it, the pretty one or the big one with the whip?

Pharaun could only shake his head.

Maybe it's neither,
Aliisza said.

To that Pharaun made no comment, though her statement disquieted him. Her words too closely echoed his own recent thoughts. He decided to change the subject.

Where are you?
he asked.

I
am invisible. Look around and find me,
she answered with a mental smile.
If you do, you'll win a prize.

With a simple exercise of his will, Pharaun attuned his vision to see invisible objects and creatures-an effect that he had made permanent to his person. Casually, so as not to alarm the whip serpent whose eyes still glared at him, he looked down the tunnel opposite the one in which Jeggred sat, back the way they had come. There, he saw her.

You win,
she said.

Aliisza leaned suggestively against the tunnel wall, back arched, arms back, batlike wings furled so as to reveal her lean body-the sensuous curve of her small breasts, the length of her legs, the turn of her sleek hips. Her long ebony tresses flowed down her back. She was looking at him and smiling. Pharaun found her small fangs more alluring than he cared to admit.

Greetings, lady,
he said.
I'll just be a moment.

It is ungentlemanly to make a lady wait,
she said, a smile in her voice.
You will have to make it up to me.

Again, Aliisza,
he answered,
one can only hope.

Her giggle managed to sound both girlish and sexually provocative all at once. He found it thrilling. He looked at the serpent that was eyeing him. It flicked its tongue again.

He leaned back on his rock and closed his eyes as though preparing for Reverie. Fortunately, he knew an illusion that required no material component.

Moving only his fingers and whispering under his breath, he cast a sophisticated glamour. The spell affected the entire area in which he reclined. To the serpent, it would appear that Pharaun remained on his rock deep in Reverie, while the real Pharaun could do whatever he wished in the affected area under cover of the illusion.

After completing the spell, he looked at the serpent-Qorra showed no sign of noticing anything amiss-and climbed silently to his feet. The serpent's gaze remained fixed on the illusion, on the false Pharaun.

Smiling, Pharaun pulled from his pocket a strip of fleece and whispered the words to a spell that rendered him invisible-a necessary precaution, because when he left the affected area of his spell, the illusionary image would no longer screen him. He knew that Aliisza's demon blood allowed her to see invisible creatures so she would have no problem seeing him.

In his mind, Aliisza giggled again, and the sound sent a charge through him. Strange that the presence of a demon, albeit a beautiful one, brought him such pleasure.

Clever, dearest,
she said.

He started quietly down the tunnel toward her, leaving behind him an image of himself reclined on a rock, lost in Reverie.

My, but you look horrid!
she said as he drew near.

He knew. He had been through the Shadow Deep, the Abyss, and the Demonweb Pits, all without bathing. He had used cantrips to mitigate his stink and keep his clothes mended, but the minor spells could do only so much.

The journey has been a hard one,
he replied.
Perhaps you would enjoy an illusory Pharaun more?
He jerked his thumb back up the corridor.

No, dearest,
she said and stretched languidly, to show her body to best effect. Her green eyes danced over him suggestively. She held out her arms.
I'll take the real thing.

The moment he got within arm's reach, he took her in his arms. Her wings unfurled and enfolded them, her perfume intoxicated him, and her skin and curves stirred him. He allowed himself a moment of pleasure, greedily ran his hands over the smooth skin of her body, then-with great effort-pushed her to arm's length.

How did you find us?
he asked.
Why are you back?

She pouted and her wings fluttered.
Such questions, Master Mizzrym! I found you by looking. You are not hard to locate. As for why I'm back…
Her face grew serious and she looked directly into his eyes.
I
wanted to say good-bye.

To Pharaun's surprise, a pit opened in his stomach.
Good-bye?
He let his fingertip trace a line along her hip.

She looked away for a moment.
I fear we will not see each other again, dear heart, and I needed to look on you one last time.

He did not believe a word of that last, though he very much wanted to.

You've finished your charge and now return to Vhok's embrace? Is that it?
He was surprised by the bitterness that leaked into his tone. His hands on her body grew less gentle.

She smiled, reached up, and ran a long-nailed finger down his jaw-line.
You are so jealous, my mage. No, I will not return to Kaanyr. I have told him all that I was charged to tell, and now I am done with him. At least for now. I have grown interested in a different kind of man.

Pharaun ignored the implicit compliment.
What did you tell him of us?
he asked.

Everything,
she replied.
That was my charge.

Pharaun had expected nothing different, but the answer still pained him distantly.

If you will not return to him and your charge is complete, why would we not see each other again?
he asked her. The question betrayed a certain weakness, and he hated himself for asking it, but he could not help himself.

She smiled, and her eyes grew as sad as her demonic blood allowed.
Because I do not think you will survive what is coming,
she answered.

For a moment, he could think of nothing to say. Her candor surprised him. Finally he managed a smile.

What is coming?

She shook her head and said,
I don't know. But this plane is dangerous and stinks of… something.

He dropped his hands from her.
You are mistaken,
he said.

She looked at him in a way she had not done before.
Perhaps I am. I can always hope. But if I am not, may I have something to remember you by? A token of my gallant drow mage?

Pharaun wondered if a token freely given was what Aliisza really was after. He knew what a skilled spellcaster could do with such a prize. A part of him wished it were otherwise, but he had seen through her.

Before that, tell me what is happening in Menzoberranzan,
he demanded.

Aliisza frowned, as though the fate of Pharaun's city was an afterthought.
It stands,
she replied.
Lolth's power has returned to the priestesses. Kaanyr is in retreat, and the duergar soon will be.

Pharaun felt a surge of relief at the news. Menzoberranzan still stood.

Odd, he thought, that he felt such attachment to a place when he felt no such attachment to any of the persons in it.

Distantly, he wondered if Gromph had survived the siege. If not, "Archmage Pharaun Mizzrym" sounded pleasing. And since House Baenre would be selecting Gromph's replacement, he had all the more reason to ally himself closely with Quenthel.

A memento?
Aliisza prodded.
Something small. A lock of your hair?

Pharaun smiled at her, a hard smile.
No, Aliisza. No token. I think I'll keep all of me to me.

She took his meaning; her brow furrowed in genuine anger.

You misunderstand,
she protested.
I
- She looked over his shoulder and behind him.
It seems your absence has been noted. Farewell, beloved.

With that, Aliisza kissed him as though she never would again and vanished, teleporting away without a sound and leaving him staring at the wall. The smell of her perfume and the remembrance of her last word lingered in the air.

Before Pharaun could do anything further, his invisible flesh erupted in purple flames. Faerie fire. A flutter went through his gut.

The stench of rotting meat overwhelmed the last lingering aroma of Aliisza-Jeggred's breath. Pharaun quickly rehearsed an excuse in his mind, even while he thought through the incantation that would trigger one of his more powerful spells, a spell that required the utterance of only a single word.