"Jealous?" Kaanyr Vhok whispered.
Aliisza thrilled that he was playing along. It was a rare reaction from the half-demon, who normally kept his feelings so carefully guarded.
"Never," she whispered back, pausing to let her hot, moist lips brush along his skin. "I just wish I could have joined you."
She hoped for further playfulness but instead got a dismissive chuckle. Kaanyr Vhok withdrew from her, and she plastered a coy pout on her face, narrowing her deep green eyes in a scowl.
Vhok flashed her a rare grin and put a finger gently to her lips.
"Don't cry, my dear," he said. "When this mad war is over, we'll have time for dalliances to thrill the likes of even you."
"Until then?"
He took his hand away and stepped to a small table on which was set a tray, a crystal decanter of fine brandy stolen for sport from a shop in Skullport, and a single glass.
"Until then," Vhok said, pouring a splash of the rust-colored liquid into the glass, "we'll have to occasionally break for business."
"How goes that business?"
"Menzoberranzan is under siege," the cambion answered, making a sweeping gesture to indicate their surroundings, "and will be for a very long time, unless someone manages to inject some intelligence—or dare we hope, imagination—into our gray dwarf allies."
"You don't sound hopeful," she said.
"They're as dull witted as they are ill tempered," Vhok replied, "but we make do."
He turned to look at her, and Aliisza smiled, shrugged, and sat. More accurately, she let her body pour onto a richly upholstered sofa, her lithe body draping seductively across it and her eyes playing over his body. Her leather bodice looked stiff and restraining, but it flowed over her the same way she flowed over the sofa, shifting to her will like her own skin. The sheathed long sword at her hip tucked under one leg.
Vhok's own costume was typically opulent, a tunic embroidered in a military style. A long sword of his own hung at his hip, and Aliisza knew he wore any number of magical bits and pieces, even in the privacy of his own temporary quarters.
The tent they inhabited at the rear of the siege lines was cloaked in enchantments that would prevent anyone from overhearing, peeking in, or spying on them in any conceivable way, but still Aliisza felt exposed.
"That lake," she said, her eyes drifting around the silk-draped confines of the tent, "is the dullest place I've ever been, and I've spent time in duergar cities."
Vhok took a small sip of the brandy and closed his eyes, savoring it. Aliisza had long ago gotten over not being offered any.
"It's a dreary, gray cave," she added. "I mean, the air is actually gray. It's awful."
Vhok opened his eyes and shrugged, waiting for more.
"They captured the captain," she continued.
"An uridezu?" the cambion asked.
Aliisza nodded, lifting an eyebrow at the oddly accurate guess.
"Sometimes," Vhok said, "I think you forget what I am."
"I remember," she said hastily.
Kaanyr Vhok was a cambion, the son of a human father and a demon mother. He shared the most dangerous qualities of both those chaotic animals.
Aliisza reached out a hand and shifted on the sofa.
"Come," she said. "Sit with me, and I'll tell you everything I saw. Every last detail. For the war effort."
Vhok downed the rest of the brandy in one gulp, set the glass down, and took Aliisza's hand. His olive skin looked dark and rich against her own pale flesh. Not as dark as Pharaun's of course, but…
"Sounds to me," the cambion said as he slid onto the sofa next to his demon lover, "as if these drow are planning a trip."
"They are past planning," she said.
"They are past foolishness," replied Vhok. "Typical drow, serving a chaotic mistress with such strident lawfulness. Always marching in lockstep, with their Houses and their laws and their infantile traditions. No wonder the spider bitch turned her back on them. I'm surprised she suffered their nonsense this long."
Aliisza smiled, showing perfect teeth—human teeth she chose for intimate occasions. She'd found over the decades that even Vhok could be put off by her jagged fangs. Aliisza smiled often and nearly as often changed the size and shape of her teeth to fit her mood.
"You think too little of them," she cautioned. "One or two drow have proven interesting. One or two of the interesting ones, together, can prove dangerous."
Vhok answered with a noncommittal grunt then said, "I suppose I should apologize for calling you back from the Lake of Shadows before you could make contact with this wizard of yours. It was unforgivably officious of me."
The alu-demon leaned in closer and let the tip of her tongue play along the edge of Vhok's pointed ear. He sat still, responding in ways more than simply physical. Aliisza could feel herself flush.
"You will get us both in trouble," the cambion whispered to her, "with the wrong dalliances."
"Or make us both triumphant," she replied, "with the right ones."
Vhok didn't bother answering, and Aliisza moved to whisper very close, very quietly into his ear, "They could do it. The ship of chaos could get them there."
Vhok nodded, and Aliisza tried to read that response. She thought he was happy with her at least for being as discreet as she was with that opinion, even in the spell-warded tent.
She began to unbutton his tunic, teasing him with each slow twist of her fingers, each incremental loosening of his clothing. Aliisza knew what to expect of Kaanyr Vhok without his clothes. Though from all appearances the marquis cambion was an aging half-elf from the World Above, his chest, arms, and legs were covered in green scales. That demon's flesh was a sight few had ever lived to see twice.
"They go in search of the spider bitch," Vhok said, twisting to help her more easily slide his tunic off.
"They mean to wake her?" Aliisza asked, turning her attention to the glistening scales on Vhok's broad chest.
"They mean to take their quest for her favor to her sticky little throne," the cambion replied, "or her sticky little bed … or her sticky little tomb, and wake her from her sleep. You say they've been feeding the ship?"
"A constant diet of manes," she whispered into his ear.
Vhok nodded as he began to undress her.
"The wizard?" he asked.
"Pharaun," she answered.
"He can do it, then," Vhok decided. "A Master of Sorcere no less, with the captain enthralled."
"They can get to the Demonweb Pits," she said, "but do you think they can wake her?"
"No," came a startling third voice in what Aliisza was sure was a tent occupied by only two.
Both of them stood and in a thought had their swords in their hands. The blades, identical to the finest detail, practically hummed with magical energy. They stood back-to-back, a defensive stance born of instinct more than practice.
Aliisza could see no one but could feel Vhok tense behind her. She had come to know his moods well, and what she sensed from him was anger, not fear. Aliisza continued to scan the room until a figure presented itself.
"Nimor," Aliisza breathed.
"A dangerous decision," Vhok said to the shadowy figure of the drow assassin, "walking in here unannounced."
"Believe me," Nimor replied, stepping into the warm torchlight nearer the center of the tent, "voyeurism was the last thing on my mind. As you said, Lord Vhok, there is business to be handled. Besides, I didn't 'walk' in."
Vhok slipped his sword, a blade he called "Burnblood," back into its sheath and stepped away from Aliisza. With slow, deliberate motions, he picked up his tunic and slipped it back on, covering the scaly flesh he so seldom exposed.
The edge of Nimor's thin lips slipped up in wry amusement. Something about that reaction made Aliisza uneasy—more so than normal when in the assassin's presence.