drow-sized guests, not dwarves, it was richly appointed with tapestries and lavish rugs, and all the doors had locks. Dark elves didn't require endless hours of sleep in the same manner as lesser races, but few drow felt safe or comfortable in a deep, dreaming Reverie unless they were taking their ease behind a locked door.
The rest of the company, with the exception of Pharaun, reclined on the rugs or sat at the common room's table, partaking of a bountiful meal accompanied by silver ewers of wine. Armor and packs lay stacked against the walls, but weapons remained within easy reach.
Halisstra raised an eyebrow, eyeing the banquet spread out on the sideboard. A large roast of rothe, several wheels of finely molded cheeses, and steaming platters of braised mushrooms reminded her how long she'd been without a decent, hot meal.
"The food's safe?" she asked.
Quenthel snorted. "Do you think we're stupid? Of course we checked it. The innkeeper sent us a cask of drugged wine the first time around, but we complained to the management" - Jeggred looked up and smiled with a mouthful of fangs at that, and Halisstra guessed she knew what form that complaint had taken - "so the banquet is complimentary. Enjoy."
Halisstra performed her own examination of the table anyway, relying on a magic ring she wore for just that purpose. Poisons were too common-place among highborn drow to take any meal for granted. Satisfied, shehelped herself and sat down by the table. Danifae took some food as well, and took a place, reclining on a low lounge near Quenthel.
"I see the wizard has not yet returned. Have you had any luck?" Halis-stra asked Valas as she ate.
The scout sat cross-legged beside the door, his knife belt loosened but still around his narrow hips. He sipped at a mug of mulled wine, and chewed thoughtfully on a piece of bread.
"After a fashion," he said. "The weapons master and I encountered no overt hostility, but we didn't get as far as I would have liked, despite our efforts to impress upon the duergar the importance of time." He jingled the pouch of coins at his belt. "I don't know if this is a sign that something unusual is happening, but Coalhewer didn't like it."
"Where is the dwarf?" asked Danifae.
"He wanted to see if he could obtain a writ through other channels."
"You trust him to do that?"
"Not entirely, but it's something we could not easily do ourselves." The scout grimaced and said, "It's one thing to deal with the duergar clans in a reasonably forthright fashion. If I was caught looking into forging our passes, I would look very much like a spy, wouldn't I? And so would all of you, by association."
"Real spies would approach Gracklstugh in much the same manner we have," Ryld said from one corner, where Splitter leaned against the wall, within easy reach.
"True, but remember that Coalhewer is something of a smuggler him-self. He's hardly anxious to bring us to the attention of the crown prince," Valas replied. "Still, the weapons master and I settled for replenishing our provisions, so we're ready to leave whenever Coalhewer obtains our pass."
"It seems we've done all we can for now," Halisstra observed. "I, for one, am tired of blinding deserts, soul-bleaching shadowlands, and bare cavern floors. If we're soon to return to the bleak and comfortless wilds, I'll enjoy what civilization I can."
Halisstra held up her cup for Danifae to fill. The battle captive rose sinuously and refilled her mistress's goblet.
"Drink if you like, but don't let your wits become too sodden," Quenthel warned from her couch. "We're hardly among friends in this filthy city."
"When are any of us truly among friends?" Ryld asked with a snort.
Halisstra laughed softly and said, "Indeed, Ryld, but tonight we can rest in comfort, confident in the knowledge that we none of us trust each other and that not too far away lurk grim enemies who would destroy us if they could. Would we have it any other way?"
Danifae carried the ewer to Quenthel. Ignoring the subtle writhing of the priestess's serpent whip, she lowered her eyes and leaned forward to refill the high priestess's cup.
"We must seize what pleasures we can when the opportunity arises," Danifae added. "Is that not the purpose of power?"
Halisstra sipped her wine and watched the scene. Danifae had neg-lected to don an arming-coat beneath her mail, as she had found the black mithral shirt without its leather padding. Of course, Halisstra had already offered Danifae