Shadows of Amn

Her body was hard from long hours of daily training. Phaere was at least two inches shorter than Imoen, but Imoen knew the drow woman could kill her with her bare hands. Imoen was attracted to her ears as well. They were perfectly shaped, symmetrical, and pointed, the tips peeking out from under her hair. Phaere's hands were lithe and smooth. There was no hint of blemish or imperfection on her at all, and the low-cut, backless robe showed enough of her to make that all the more impressive.

Imoen looked at her own hand and marveled at the deep black color.

"I've had a bath run for you," Phaere said, her voice low and intimate now.

Behind her, a thin-framed drow boy scurried about with a huge amphora of warm, scented water.

"Thank you, mistress," Imoen said, keeping her own voice low as well.

Phaere smiled and nodded toward the curtained room just as the last of the amphora-toting boys passed out of it and scurried off into the corridor beyond.

"Please …" Phaere said politely. "Bathe, and we can talk."

Imoen nodded and stepped lightly across the marble tiles to the simple beaded curtain. She passed through into a room easily as large as most of the houses she'd ever been in. The center of the room was dominated by an enormous round marble-tiled tub. Steam rose in gentle tendrils from the water into the cool subterranean air. The bath looked so good to Imoen after countless days of travelling and sleeping on gravel, and the thought of washing away the sweat, the blood, and the fluids of this creature and that monster sounded very appealing.

She'd been enjoying the ruse and would never have trouble admitting that she found the drow attractive—she even found herself more attractive as a drow—but she'd still been rather nervous around Phaere. Now, though, all she could think about was the bath. She shed her torn clothes quickly enough, not even thinking to try to explain them and their state to Phaere. They weren't drow clothes.

Phaere sat down on a low marble bench lined with rich cushions. As she sat, she pulled from a concealed pocket in her robe a long, thin wand that seemed to be made from crushed gemstones.

Imoen slid into the tub and let the water wrap around her. She closed her eyes and let out a long, relieved breath.

"It's been a long time?" Phaere asked. Imoen opened her eyes and saw Phaere twirling the wand between two fingers.

"What is that?" Imoen asked.

"Do you mean am I going to kill you with it?" Phaere asked, not looking at her.

Imoen wasn't sure how to answer, so she didn't. The warm, perfect water was like satin on her skin, and it was quickly making her sleepy.

"It's a wand," Phaere said, almost bored. "Lightning bursts from it on my command."

"Impressive," Imoen said, her voice even lower still.

Phaere looked at her and Imoen closed her eyes.

"Tomorrow is an auspicious day," the drow said.

"Is it?" Imoen asked, not even sure why she needed to keep the conversation going.

Phaere stood slowly and stepped toward the bath. "I truly begin my ascent tomorrow," She said. "I mean to replace my mother."

Imoen said nothing, not even sure what Phaere meant.

"That information would be worth a lot to her," Phaere said. "I'd have to kill you if you sold it to her, though, so please don't."

Imoen opened her eyes and regarded Phaere calmly. "I know who my friends are," she said.

"Good," Phaere answered and let her robe slip to the ground. Imoen pulled in a short breath and opened her mouth too speak, but no sound came out.

Phaere, eyes still on Imoen's, stepped into the tub and lowered herself into the water as slowly as Imoen had. The bath was huge enough that a good half dozen yards of warm water separated the two women.

"Do you know what a mythal is?" Phaere asked.

Imoen shook her head, her body suddenly tense.

"In a few days' time I'll have one at my disposal, and all I have to do is march a few hundred of my mother's all-too-expendable soldiers through a gate into some surface-elf forest. How long have they been expecting that? The arrogant fools actually think we're down here with nothing more interesting to occupy our minds than plans for their meaningless downfall."

Imoen closed her eyes again, willing herself to relax, and said, "So why give them their wish?"

"I must have been six the first time my mother told me never to make a deal with a vampire," answered Phaere cryptically.

The word «vampire» gave Imoen a chill, and her hand came up enough to disturb the water around her.

"Yes," Phaere said, misinterpreting the gesture. "It's not an easy thing to stomach, I assure you, but I'm getting the better end of the bargain. They have some secret weapon—some unsuspecting humans who carry some kind of curse that's supposed to help them. It's typically ham-handed human co

"Diversion?"

Phaere slipped closer to Imoen in the bath, sending warm waves lapping against the soft underside of Imoen's chin.

"They have some grudge against one of the surface elves," Phaere said, obviously growing bored with the conversation. "I make this elf think the great drow invasion has finally come, and in all the chaos that follows, Bodhi and Irenicus do whatever it is they've set out to do. In exchange, I get power enough to ascend to the highest position in Ust Natha."

"A good bargain," Imoen said.

When Phaere had mentioned Bodhi and Irenicus by name, another chill ran down her spine. When Phaere touched her, a sensation of an entirely different nature followed.

Abdel was worried about Imoen. She was surprisingly good at pretending to be someone she wasn't, but Abdel realized that every second they spent in Ust Natha brought them closer to being found out. Not to mention the fact that the dragon had warned them that they didn't have much time. If the spell wore off and they were revealed to be human, suddenly couldn't even speak the language, they'd be in serious—very serious—trouble.

Jaheira was getting better at the ruse herself, but she wasn't as good as Imoen. Abdel watched her carefully and took some consolation in the fact that Solausein took his odd behavior to be simple jealousy. The drow thought Jaheira was doing to Abdel what Phaere had done to Solausein only hours before. Let him think whatever he wanted, Abdel decided, it had brought them to the eggs.

Getting past the guards was easy enough. Solausein was their captain, and they deferred to him, not daring to question why he might be there or who his unfamiliar companions were. Abdel had done enough of that kind of work to understand the soldiers' point of view. It wasn't so much that they were afraid to ask, they just didn't care.

"Perfect," Jaheira said, standing in front of the row of enormous eggs.

Solausein, maybe a little drunk judging by the sway in his walk, gri

"A fortune," Abdel offered, still reluctant to play along.

"Enough to establish my own—" Jaheira said, stopping when she realized the guards could overhear.

Solausein picked up on that right away and barked, "You men, load these things onto the cart outside, and be quick about it—quick but careful. The mistress has need of the eggs elsewhere."

Satisfied easily enough with the order, the guards hopped to. It took two of them to move each of the eggs, and Jaheira, Abdel, and Solausein stood in silence, watching, until they were done.