“The Masters of Sorcere will surely set aside their ambitions once they come to realize their peril,” the crown prince said. He cut off Nimor with a curt gesture and added, “Yes, I know you say they may not, but we would be wise to plan on meeting an organized and well-directed magical defense of the city. Still, that was a well-struck blow, well-struck indeed.”
He rose, and shouldered his way past the clan lairds and guards to approach the map table, beckoning Nimor to follow. The assassin circled to the other side of the table to attend the duergar ruler’s words. Horgar traced their route with one thick finger.
“If the wizards of Menzoberranzan do not note our approach,” Horgar said, “then the question becomes, at what point will they perceive their danger?”
The clan laird Borwald thrust his way to the tableside and indicated a cavern intersection.
“Presuming we don’t encounter any drow patrols, the first place we’ll meet the enemy is here, at the cavern called Rhazzt’s Dilemma. The Menzoberranyr have long maintained a small outpost there to watch this road, as it’s one of the few large enough for an army to use. Our vanguard should reach it in five days’ time. After that, our path forks and we must make our first hard decision. We can choose to go north, through the Pillars of Woe, or circle around to the west, which adds at least six days to our march. The Pillars are likely to be held against us, and so could delay us indefinitely.”
“The Pillars of Woe ...” Horgar said. The prince tugged at his iron-gray beard as he studied the map. “When the drow learn we’re coming, they’ll certainly move troops there and hold the pass against us. That way is no good, then. We’ll want to follow the other branch to the west, and circle around to approach the city from that side. The time it adds to our march cannot be helped.”
“On the contrary, I mean for you to take the straighter path,” Nimor said.
“Passing through the Pillars of Woe will save you six days, and once you’re on the other side, you will be on Menzoberranzan’s doorstep. If you go through the western passes, you’ll find the terrain there much less favorable.”
The duergar lord snorted and said, “Perhaps you have not traveled this way before, Nimor. It is a difficult road you’ve chosen, if you plan to force the Pillars of Woe. The canyon becomes narrow there and climbs steeply. Two mighty columns bar the upper end, with only a narrow way between them. Even a small force of drow can hold it indefinitely.”
“You can beat the Menzoberranyr to the Pillars, Crown Prince,” the assassin said. “I will deliver the outpost of Rhazzt’s Dilemma to you. We shall allow the defenders of the post to report a duergar force on the march, but even as the message speeds back to the matron mothers, your forces will race ahead to lay a deadly trap at the Pillars of Woe. There, you will destroy the army the rulers of the city send to hold the gap.”
“If you can give us the outpost, drow, why allow the soldiers there to send any warning at all?” growled Borwald. “Better to cling to our secrecy as long as possible.”
“The pinnacle of deceit,” said Nimor, “lies not in depriving your foe of information, but in showing your foe the thing that he expects to see. Even with the stroke we have engineered against the city’s wizards, they cannot help but note our approach soon. Best for us to control the circumstances under which the crown prince’s army is reported to Menzoberranzan’s rulers, and perhaps anticipate their response.”
“This intrigues me. Go on,” Horgar said.
“The soldiers of Menzoberranzan expect that an army approaching along this road must be delayed by the effort to take Rhazzt’s Dilemma, giving the city time to man the choke point at the Pillars of Woe in sufficient strength to defeat any further attack. I suggest you allow the outpost to make its report and alert the rulers of Menzoberranzan to the presence of your army. Before the matron mothers can muster an army to face you, we will take Rhazzt’s Dilemma by storm. We will be waiting to intercept the drow march at the Pillars of Woe.”
“Your plan has two fundamental flaws,” said Borwald, sneering in contempt.
“First, you presume that the outpost can be taken whenever we wish. Second, you seem to think that the matron mothers will choose to send out their army instead of standing fast to await a siege. I would give much to know how you intend to engineer these two feats.”
“Easily done,” the assassin replied. “The outpost will fall because much of its garrison has been withdrawn to keep order in the city. Of those soldiers that remain, many are Agrach Dyrr. That is why I urged you to choose this road for your attack. The outpost will be betrayed into your hands when the time is right.”
“You knew this before we set out,” Horgar said. “In the future, you will share such information in a more timely manner. What would we have done if you’d met some accident of the march? We must know exactly what kind of help you will lend us, and when you will be able to do so.”
Nimor laughed coldly and said, “It would be good for our continued friendship, Prince Horgar, if you find yourself wondering from time to time exactly how helpful I might turn out to be.”
Halisstra roused herself from her Reverie to find that she was cold and wet. During the night, a light dusting of wretched stuff that she guessed must be snow had fallen over the forest, bedecking every branch with a thin coating of brilliant white. The novelty of the experience had worn off quickly for her, particularly after she realized that it had soaked her clothing and piwafwi with frigid water. The reality of snow on the surface was far less appealing than any account of the phenomenon she’d read in the comfort of her House library.
Overhead, the sky was sullen and gray again, but brighter than the previous day—bright enough to cause no little discomfort to the drow travelers. Since Quenthel didn’t choose to drive them out into the sunlight after Pharaun had rested and studied his spells, they passed most of the day’s bright hours sheltering deep in the cavern away from the light. The company didn’t prepare to break camp until late in the day, when the sun was already beginning to sink into the west.
“Remind me to conduct some research into methods by which that infernal orb might be extinguished,” remarked Pharaun, squinting up into the snow-laden sky.
“It’s still up there behind all those blessed clouds, burning my eyes.”
“You’re not the first of our kind to find its light painful,” Quenthel replied.
“In fact, the more you complain about it, the more it troubles me, so keep your whimpering to yourself and get about the business of casting your spell.”
“Of course, most impressive Mistress,” Pharaun said in an acerbic voice. He turned away and hurried off across the snow-covered rocks and boulders before Quenthel could make a proper retort. The Baenre muttered a black curse under her breath and turned away as well, busying herself with watching Danifae as the battle captive stuffed Quenthel’s bedroll and blankets into her pack. The rest of the company kept to a studious silence and pretended not to notice the interplay, either between Quenthel and Pharaun, or Quenthel and Danifae. They gathered up their own belongings and broke camp.
Halisstra picked up her own pack and followed Pharaun across the floor of the sinkhole, scrambling up after him along the hidden path that ascended to the forest floor. Standing in the clearing surrounding the sunken spot where the cavern mouth had undermined the hillside, she found that the forest was very dense and pressed in close on all sides. Everywhere she looked, the wall of trees and brush was the same, a verdant barrier with no landmarks at all, no distant mountains by which she could orient herself, not even an orderly plan of sand-covered streets to follow. Even in the most twisted caverns of the Underdark, one usually was offered only a handful of choices at a time—forward or back, left or right, up or down. In the forest, she might simply walk off in any direction she liked and eventually arrive somewhere. It was an unsettling and unfamiliar feeling.