pause and huddle closer to the rocky wall, his limber form melting into the jags and depressions. He pulled his piwafwi, his enchanted drow cloak that could hide him from the most scrutinizing of gazes, a bit tighter around him and turned his face to the stone, peering out of the corner of only one eye.
A few moments passed. Tos'un relaxed as he heard the dwarves back at their normal routines, eating and chatting. They thought they were safe back in the tunnels, since they believed they had left the trolls far behind. What troll could have tracked them over the last couple days since the skirmish, after all?
No troll, Tos'un knew, and he smiled at the thought. For the dwarves hadn't counted on their crude and beastlike enemies being accompanied by a pair of dark elves. Tracking them, leading the two-headed troll named Prof-fit and his smelly band back into this second stretch of tunnel, had been no difficult task for Tos'un.
The drow glanced back the other way, where his companion, the priestess Kaer'lic Suun Wett waited, crouched atop a boulder against the wall. Even Tos'un would not have seen her there, buried under her piwafwi, except that she shifted as he turned, lifting one arm out toward him.
Take down the sentry, her fingers flashed to him in the intricate sign language of the drow elves. A prisoner is desirable.
Tos'un took a deep breath and instinctively reached for the dart he held clenched in his teeth. Its tip was coated with drow poison, a paralyzing concoction of tremendous power that few could resist. How often had Tos'un heard that command from Kaer'lic and his other two drow companions over the last few years, for he among all the group had become the most adept at gathering creatures for interrogation, especially when the target was part of a larger group.
Tos'un paused and moved his free hand out where Kaer'lic could see, then answered, Do we need bother? They are alert, and they are many.
Kaer'lic's fingers flashed back immediately, I would know if this is a remote group or the forward scouts of Mithral Hall's army!
Tos'un's hand went right back to the dart. He didn't dare argue with Kaer'lic on such matters. They were drow, and in the realm of the drow, even for a group who was so far removed from the conventions of the great Under-dark cities, females ranked higher than males, and priestesses of the Spider Queen Lolth, like Kaer'lic, ranked highest of all.
The scout turned and slid down lower toward the floor, then began to half walk, half crawl toward his target. He paused when he heard the dwarf raise his voice, arguing with the single human among the troop. The drow moved to a properly hidden vantage point and bided his time.
Soon enough, several of the dwarves farther along told the two to be quiet, and the dwarf near to Tos'un grumbled something and waved the human away.
Tos'un glanced back just once, then paused and listened until his sensitive ears picked out the rumble of Proffit's closing war party.
Tos'un slithered in. His left arm struck first, jabbing the dart into the dwarf's shoulder as his right hand came across, the serrated knife cutting a very precise line on the dwarf's throat. It could easily have been a killing blow, but Tos'un angled the blade so as not to cut the main veins, the same technique he had recently used on a dwarf in a tower near the Surbrin. Eventually his cut would prove mortal, but not for a long time, not until Kaer'lic could intervene and with but a few minor spells granted by the Spider Queen save the wretched creature's life.
Though, Tos'un thought, the prisoner would surely wish he had been allowed to die.
The dwarf shifted fast and tried to cry out, but the drow had taken its vocal chords. Then the dwarf tried to punch and lash out, but the poison was already there. Blood streaming from the mortal wound, the dwarf crumbled down to the stone, and Tos'un slithered back.
"Bah, ye're still a bigmouth!" came a quiet call from the main group. "Keep still, will ya, Fender?"
Tos'un continued to retreat.
"Fender?" The call sounded more insistent.
Tos'un flattened against the corner of the wall and the floor, making himself very small and all but invisible under his enchanted cloak.
"Fender!" a dwarf ahead of him cried, and Tos'un smiled at his cleverness, knowing the stupid dwarves would surely think their poisoned companion dead.
The camp began to