«Why is that?» Pharaun asked.
«Because chitines and choldriths worship the goddess, too,» Valas answered quietly.
«Choldriths?»
«Chitine priestesses. Same racial stock, larger and dark-skinned. No hair, human eyes. I suspect that they may be suffering the same calamity that has befallen our own clerics.»
Pharaun's curiosity was piqued.
«Really,» he said, musing. «It might prove useful if we could track down some of these choldriths and find out if they are suffering the same fate. It's obvious that Ched Nasad endures the goddess's silence, too, and once we get proof, Quenthel may be at a loss for what to do next. This would give us the means to explore further, find out if Lolth's reticence is universal or just limited to our own race.»
«It's a nice idea in theory, mage,» Ryld said, shooing a goblin vendor away who was trying to convince him to buy a bowl of slugs, «but you'd be hard-pressed to track any down, and struggle even more to elicit information from them. The drow hunt them for sport, so the chitines and choldriths have learned to flee or fight to the death.»
«Hmm,» Pharaun responded, spying a little shop selling something he wanted. «Perhaps, but my particular talents could come in handy in such an endeavor.»
The mages companions followed him to a cramped kiosk selling spirits, which was hanging at the corner of two fairly large web streets. To reach it, customers had to slide down a steep ramp of webbing to the front of the vending stand, then ascend a ladder of webbing to return to the street. Pharaun studied the small crowd of people gathered around, each in turn descending the slide and purchasing a flask or mushroom cap of beverage.
«You'd think they could have put steps in on both sides,» the Master of Sorcere sniffed disdainfully.
«Oh, by the Dark Mother,» Ryld said, shaking his head. «I'll get us something.»
With that, the warrior moved through the crowd, very few of whom were actually buying, instead begging coin or a sip from the paying customers. Ryld ignored them and descended upon the vendor, while Pharaun and Valas stood out of the way of traffic and took the opportunity to absorb the sights again.
When Ryld returned, he had a bit of a strange look on his face.
«What is it?» Valas asked.
«That gray dwarf charged me ten times what this swill is worth and seemed to take a certain delight in it.»
«Well, a bit of gouging is to be expected, when caravan traffic has dried up,» Pharaun said.
«Yes, but when a goblin asked for the same thing right after me, I heard the proprietor sell it to him for half what he charged me.»
«Maybe the little thrall is a regular,» Valas offered.
«Possibly,» Pharaun said, opening the flask that Ryld had procured and inhaling a waft. He jerked his head back and scrunched up his face a bit. «I suspect it has more to do with relishing the opportunity to earn a little payback against the drow.» He took a sip of the brandy and passed the flask to Valas. «After all, who regulates the commerce in the city? Who gets first choice of all the best vending locations? Who runs the caravan system? Who acquires the best trade goods?»
«In other words, who sticks it to the other races with regularity?» Ryld finished.
«Exactly. The gray dwarves, the trogs, the kuo-toans, and everyone else in this city know that the ruling class has fallen on hard times, and despite the fact that they've been allowed to trade in a city of dark elves, they won't waste a chance to earn a spot of revenge. And Ryld,» Pharaun added, gesturing to the flask that Valas Was handing to the warrior, «you would have been had at one-tenth the price.»
Ryld shrugged, took a sip, and said, «You're drinking it, aren't you?»
The three companions continued on, sharing the flask and discussing the prospects of acquiring some sort of tangible confirma-fcon that Lolth was absent from Ched Nasad. Pharaun continued to be deeply intrigued by the idea of investigating other races known to worship the goddess, and even as he contributed to the conversation, he mulled the concept over. It would require some research. Given rime and Quenthel's willingness, he had a good idea where he might go to perform the study.
The mage's musings were interrupted when the trio ascended a webbed staircase, turned a corner, and found themselves on a colonnade overlooking an open plaza. From the congestion in the mall, Pharaun thought it obvious that refugees had taken to using the place as a sort of campground. Still, there was enough room to move along the raised walkway around the perimeter without brushing shoulder to shoulder with the riffraff, and the three dark elves glided along, ignoring the pleas and demands for coin from the unwashed around them.
A shout from below drew the drow's attention, and when Pharaun peered toward the center of the plaza, he spotted the source of the disturbance. A priestess was standing in a fairly open area, three or four hobgoblins gathered around her. She seemed to be mumbling something, but from a distance Pharaun couldn't make out what it was. The female drow raised her arm back and tried to lash out at one of the hobgoblins with a scourge, but the creature easily stepped aside, and the priestess stumbled forward from the exertion. She was quite drunk, Pharaun realized.
«Filthy animals,» the priestess barked, staggering back upright. «Stay away from me!»
Pharaun noticed her unkempt state. Her piwafwi was soiled and sloughed half off her shoulders, her lustrous white hair was disheveled, and she held a bottle of something the wizard presumed to be liquor in her other hand.
The hobgoblins merely laughed at the drow before them, casually circling, which caused the priestess to turn, trying to keep an eye on them all. The effort made her stumble again, and she nearly went down in a heap.
«I don't think I've ever seen such a thing,» Valas breathed. «The gall those subcreatures have is truly bewildering.»
«Lets put a stop to this,» Ryld said, taking a step forward.
Suddenly, Pharaun was aware of magic around him, an effect that seemed to be centered on him and his two companions. He reached out and put a hand on the warrior's arm.
«Wait,» he said. «Lets see what happens.»
When Ryld looked at the wizard quizzically, he continued, «Drawing attention to ourselves is not the best way to investigate. Besides,» the mage added, «We might see once and for all if our theory is correct. This might be the proof we need.»
The wizard flashed in sign language, Ithink someone is watching us, observing us magically.
Both Ryld and Valas raised eyebrows in concern, but before they could turn and look around, Pharaun cautioned, Don't draw attention to the fact that we know. Just pretend we're watching the spectacle.
Pharaun briefly considered dispelling the magic, but he discounted the idea because he knew It would only give their spy notification that they were aware of his or her presence. Instead, he pretended to turn his attention back to the brewing fight below while in actuality scanning the plaza for signs of someone looking at him rather than at the hobgoblins. There were a great many magical auras radiating from many different individuals, but no one, as far as the wizard could observe, seemed to be staring in his direction.
The hobgoblins seemed content for the moment to keep their distance, though they were increasingly pressed from behind by a gathering crowd. For her part, the priestess seemed to have lost interest in her detractors and was standing relatively still, her eyes closed, swaying slightly. She was mumbling something, but Pharaun again could not make it out.
Well, spy or no spy, he thought, I want to know what she's saying.
He reached into one of his many pockets and produced a tiny brass horn, with which he cast a spell. When the magic was complete, the wizard could hear the priestess's mutterings as though he were standing right in front of her.
— beseech thee, our Mistress Lolth, return to me. Give me your blessings. Do not abandon me when I am your loyal an—aieee!»
One of the hobgoblins had chosen that moment to prod the drow with a sharpened stick, and she shrieked as she jumped, losing her grip on the bottle of spirits. It fell to the calcified pavement and shattered, spilling only the trickle that remained.
«Damn you, thrall!» she screamed at the hobgoblin that had molested her, attempting to stalk forward, her hand outstretched as though she were going to throttle him.
A second hobgoblin casually reached out with his own short spear and tripped the priestess, who went sprawling.
She rose to her hands and knees and began shouting, «My goddess, come to me, aid me! Do not abandon me, your loyal servant, who will obey—»
«Your goddess is dead,» the first hobgoblin snarled, kicking the drow.
She grunted from the impact and toppled to the side, clutching for her scourge.
«No!» she shrieked. «Lolth would not abandon us! She is mighty, and her faithful are mighty!»
The four hobgoblins advanced together, and the drow priestess tried to kick at them, but the creature in the lead easily sidestepped the attack and jabbed down at her with his spear. Pharaun saw the point draw blood from the dark elf priestess's thigh.