finally drew his attention, and he looked over to see the draegloth's eyes locked on Quenthel, who was successfully ignoring her Abyssal nephew.
"You talk like humans," the draegloth growled. "You speak of the Abyss as if it was some feral dog you think might nip at your rumps, so you never rise from your chairs. You forget that for you, the Abyss has been a hunting ground, though you do most of your hunting from across the planes. Are you drow? Masters of this world and the next? Or are you . . ."
Jeggred stopped, his jaw and throat tight, and returned his steely gaze to the uridezu. The demon captain looked away.
"You assume much, honored draegloth," Danifae said,her clear voice echoing across the still water. "It is not fear that prepares us for our journey, I'm sure, but necessity."
Jeggred turned slowly but didn't look at Danifae. Instead, his eyes once more found the Mistress of Arach-Tinilith. Quenthel appeared, to Pharaun's eyes at least, to have succumbed to the Reverie. Jeggred blew a short, sharp breath through his wide nostrils and turned a fang-lined smile on Danifae.
"Fear," the draegloth said, "has a smell."
Danifae returned the half-demon's smile and said, "Fear of the Spider Queen surely smells the sweetest."
"Yes," Valas broke in, though Danifae and the draegloth continued to stare at each other with expressions impossible to read. "Well, that's all well and good, but surely someone knows how long it will take us to get there and how long to get back."
"A tenday," Pharaun said, guessing for no other reason than to get on with it so he could rest and replenish his magic. "Each way."
The scout nodded, and no one else offered any argument. Jeggred went back to staring at the captain, and Danifae drew out a whetstone to sharpen a dagger. The vipers of Quenthel's scourge wrapped themselves lovingly around her and began, one by one, to sink into slumber.
"I'll be off then," Valas said.
"Off?" Pharaun asked. "To where?"
"Sshamath, I think," the scout replied. "It's reasonably close, and I have contacts there. If I go alone, I can be there and back quickly, and no one who doesn't fear Bregan D'aerthe will even know I was there."
"No," Danifae said, startling both Valas and Pharaun.
"The young mistress has a better suggestion?" Pharaun asked.
"Sschindylryn," she said.
"What of it?" asked Pharaun.
"It's closer," Danifae replied, "and it's not ruled by Vhaeraunites."
She sent a pointed look Valas's way, and Pharaun allowed himself a smirk.
"I'm tired," the Master of Sorcere said, "so I will weaken enough to speak on Valas's behalf. He is Bregan D'aerthe, young mistress, and his loyalty goes to she who is paying. I don't believe we'll have trouble with our guide jumping deities on us. If he can get to, through, and out of Sshamath faster, then let him do what he's been hired to do."
"He will go to Sschindylryn," Quenthel said, her voice so flat and quiet that Pharaunwasn't certain he'd heard correctly.
"Mistress?" he prompted.
"You heard me," she said, finally looking up at him. She let her cold gaze linger for a moment, and Pharaun held it. She turned to Valas. "Sschindylryn." If the scout had any thought of arguing, he suppressed it quickly.
"As you wish, Mistress," Valas replied.
"I will accompany you," Danifae said, speaking to Valas but looking at Quenthel.
"I can move faster on my own," the scout argued.
"We have time," said the battle-captive, still looking at Quenthel.
The high priestess turned to Danifae slowly. Her frigid red eyes warmed as they played across the girl's curves. Danifae leaned in ever so slightly, eliciting a smile from Pharaun that was as impressed as it was amused.
"Sschindylryn. . . ." the wizard said. "I've passed through it a time or two. Portals, yes? A city crowded with portals that could slip you in an instant from one end of the Underdark to another ... or elsewhere."
Danifae turned to Pharaun and returned his smile-impressed and amused.
"How much time do we have?" Valas asked, still ignoring the more subtle, silent conversation-within-a-conversation.
Pharaun shrugged and said, "Five days . . . perhaps as many as seven. I should have provided the ship with adequate sustenance by then."
"I can do it," Valas replied. "Barely."
The scout looked to Quenthel for an answer, and Pharaun sighed, pushing back his frustration. He too looked at Quenthel, who was gently stroking the head of one of her whip vipers. The snake swayed in the air next to her smooth ebon cheek while the other vipers slept. Pharaun got the