Dissolution

«I refuse to have an extended conversation with someone sitting on the floor. It compromises my dignity as much as it does yours. Come on, be sensible. Take my hand.» She didn't do that, but, chains clinking, she did clamber to her bare feet unassisted. He caught a whiff of some flowery scent that Nym had forced her to wear. «Now, isn't that better?» he asked. «Do you want the manacles off?» «We had a compact, and I was holding up my end.» «I wish you'd invite me to sit down.» «You abandoned me!»

Pharaun spread his slender, long-fingered hands and said, «All right, priestess. If you think it necessary, we'll belabor the self-evident a bit longer. Yes, I recruited you into my service. Yes, you were doing splendidly—well on your way to earning your liberation—but my circumstances changed. Surely you heard something about it.» «Yes. You backed the wrong sister, and Greya

Pharaun raised his hand. «Please, you're embarrassing yourself. You sound like a whining human, or one of our foul cousins in the World Above. Cease this tirade, take a breath, and think, then you will realize, enemy of Menzoberranzan, that my concern for your well-being has always been, at best, limited. How could it be otherwise? Sentiment certainly wasn't strong enough to make me spend a fortune buying you free of Nym, or, if he and I couldn't strike a deal, break you out of here. Not when you hadn't fulfilled the terms of our covenant. As you no doubt recall, you were supposed to provide me useful information over the full course of twenty years. I admit it wasn't your fault that you couldn't, but still, that's just the way things fell out.» «Fine,» she gritted. «You're right, I'm being ridiculous. In forsaking me, you simply behaved as any sensible drow would. Now what in the name of the Demonweb do you want?» He nodded at the other end of the room and said, «May we …?»

She gave a curt nod, and they seated themselves, she on the mattress of her wide octagonal bed and he on a cushioned granite chair. «This is much nicer,» he said. «Would you like me to send for some wine?» «Just get on with it.»

«Very well. I imagine my plight will amuse you. After the goddess knows how many years breathing the rarefied and dispassionate air of scholarship, imparting knowledge to eager young minds, advancing the frontiers of the mystic arts—» «Murdering other wizards for their talismans and grimoires.» He gri

«That's your errand? To find some rogues? What makes it important enough to send a Master of Sorcere?» He smiled. «I have no idea. Do you know anything about it?» She shook her head. «Not much.»

«Frankly, any crumb of genuine information will put me ahead of where I am now.»

«Well, I've heard only the vaguest hints, but they suggest this isn't just a case of an unusual number of males deciding independently to elope. They all ran to the same place for the same reason, whatever that reason may be.» «I thought as much,» said Pharaun. «Otherwise, why would Gromph be interested? But it's reassuring to hear that your own agile mind has arrived at the same conclusion.» She sneered. Pharaun absently ran his fingertip along one of the swirling lines woven into his robe. «I doubt a threat would suffice to draw so many boys away from home,» he said. «Some would have the courage to defy the threatener or the sense to appeal to their kin for protection. Nor would a hypnotic charm do the trick. Aside from the natural resistance to such effects that all we dark elves possess, some of the males would have carried wards in the form of amulets and such. No, I think we have to assume the rogues sneaked away of their own volition to accomplish some positive end. But what?» «They're organizing a new merchant clan?» «I thought of that, but Gromph says no, and I'm sure he's correct. For if that were the case, then why the secrecy? Since trade is important to all Menzoberranzan, people don't generally object when a male becomes a merchant. It's one of the two or three legitimate ways to distance oneself from Mother's harsh and arbitrary hand.» He gri

«Do it, or I'll tell every soul who comes into this cell that you're looking for the runaways. Perhaps that will have some 'significance' for your mission. I assume it is supposed to be a secret. Things usually are where you're involved, and you haven't mentioned a legion of assistants following you about.» Pharaun laughed. «Well played. I surrender. How shall we do this?»

«I don't care. Burn me with your magic. Stick a dagger in me. Break my neck with those long, clever fingers.» «Interesting suggestions all, but I'd just as soon that Nym didn't bill me for your demise. If we can make it look as if your heart just stopped of its own accord sometime after I look my leave, I'll have a chance.» He cast about, noticed the thick, fluffy pillow on the bed, picked it up, and experimentally gripped it at both ends. It felt good in his hands. «This ought to work,» he said. «Perhaps you could oblige me by lying down?»