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households, and perhaps get you a kitchen position rather than farming duty or
worse."
"Why, thank you," the maitre d'/cook/waiter replied, quickly making eye
contact with his fellow captive, "but if it's all the same to you, I think
I'd rather stay with my friend Volo here. Companions to the end and all that
rot, if you know what I mean."
"No, not really," the drow replied, scratching his ebony forehead in
puzzlement, then running his delicate digits back through his flowing white
mane of hair. "But if that's what you really want, far be it from me to stand
in your way. Just seems like a damned shame waste of a good cook."
"I'm sure Menzoberranzan has plenty of good cooks," Volo offered.
"Not that I recall," Haukun answered, "but it has been a long time."
The party had no sooner resumed their journey to the city when they came into
contact with other travelers, the only time since the encounter with the pair
of kuo-toa. A detachment of drow warriors traveling in the opposite direction
waved them on, and a drow merchant with a lizard bearing his goods passed by,
hardly even noticing them, lost in a conversation with an illithid companion.
"I wonder if he knows Malix," Woodehous said out loud.
"Not likely," Volo answered. "Though mind flayers are fairly common around
here, not many of them maintain contact with others who have decided to
make their lives on the surface."
"Oh," the former maitre d'/cook/waiter replied, wondering from which dull,
boring text his fellow companion in captivity was quoting this time.
"Keep your heads down as we enter the city," Courun instructed, "and try to
look oppressed and sullen."
"No problem," Woodehous replied in all sincerity.
Glancing back at the mind flayer and the merchant, Volo noticed that they
seemed to be pointing to the path from which the foursome had come.
"I almost forgot," Volo said to himself. Then, out loud, he said, "Courun, I
think Percy and I have to take our boots off before we get into the city."
"Why?" the captor inquired.
"Custom, I think," the gazetteer explained, making it up as he went along, "at
least that's what I
heard, and we wouldn't want to get things off on the wrong foot, I mean, just
when you and Haukun are on the verge of returning to respectability."
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Courun turned to Haukun, and asked, "Do you remember anything about captives
having to be brought into the city barefoot?"
"No," Haukun answered, "but you and I have been away for a long time, and he
does seem to know a lot about these types of things."
The two drow helped their captives off with their boots while the puzzled
Woodehous looked at his companion for assurance.
"Believe me," the gazetteer asserted, "it's important."
Woodehous realized this last comment was strictly for his own reassurance.
Luckily for the two bound captives, the road ahead was smooth, posing little
threat to the delicate soles of their feet. The former maitre d'/cook/waiter
noticed that Volo took more than a passing interest in their surroundings, as
if he were trying to memorize everything in a matter of seconds.
The road opened out into a huge cavern, within which the city was situated.
All four travelers were momentarily speechless in awe of its magnificence.
"Araurikaurak," Volo mouthed, his eyes wide in wonder.
"No," Courun corrected, "Menzoberranzan."
"I was just using its dwarven name," Volo replied, adding absently, still in
awe of its splendor, "It's just as I pictured it."
"You mean, as you remembered it," Woodehous corrected, asking, "don't you?"
"Whatever," the master traveler replied absently, ". . . and I am here now."
Menzoberranzan
The city itself filled the entire cavern. Volo had been slightly
mistaken when he called the city
Araurikaurak. In reality that was the name of the cavern, quite literally
translated from dwarven as Great
Pillar Cavern. Legend had it that the entire open area was formerly the lair
of a gigantic spider, but given the proclivity of the drow for adoration of
all things arachnoid, the validity of this legend was more than open to
discussion.
From their vantage point just outside and above the city, they were
able to look down on the wonders of the entire subterranean complex.
Woodehous noticed a lake at the lower end of the cavern, and whimsically
asked, "I wonder how the fishing is?"
"If you are lucky, you might find out," Courun replied. "That's Donigarten,
where the slave pens are maintained. In the nearby dung fields, I am sure you
would find ample fungi and mushrooms to season the nautical fare you'd fish."
From this distance, the former maitre d'/cook/waiter could just make
out some of the slaves paddling around the lake on rafts, some leading
beasts of burden, others little better than beasts of burden
themselves. This was not an existence to be envied.
At the highest part of the city floor stood the Tier Breche, home of the
Academy, where drow received their training. The prospects of life in the
slave pens for Woodehous was every bit as abhorrent to him as the memories
that flooded back to the two drow warriors upon once again seeing the place of
their education.
To the other side of the city floor was the Qu'ellarz'orl, a plateau separated
from the lower city by a grove of giant mushrooms. This was where the
noble houses were located, and where Courun and
Haukun expected to regain their rightful places. Numerous flashes of faerie
fire in the houses indicated that there were several parties going on,
commemorating various celebrations of one sort and another.
"Soon, they will be throwing parties for us," Courun replied with a
haughtiness that was quite unbecoming.
Looming above the entire city cavern was the pillar Narbondel, whose change in
glow indicated the passing time of the day. Its smooth yet rough surface gave
an appearance that could not have been fostered by means other than the
pure refining forces of nature itself. This was the only structure in the
entire city that had not been remade by the skillful digits and sure hands of
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drow artisans.
Volo stood in awe of the exotic beauty of the place. Though he had traversed
the entire world of
Toril, he had never looked upon a city to compare with this one. True, he had
never been to Netheril or
Cormanthyr, whose beauty was the stuff of legends, but both of those cities
were long dead before he had been born. Menzoberranzan was still very [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]