If he called it all off at that critical moment-if all the fighters, Basadoni and dark elf, returned to the guild house with their weapons unstained by Raker blood- Jarlaxle would not be pleased. The drow was determined to see this conquest through despite the protests of all of his lieutenants.
Rai-guy closed his eyes and logically sifted through the situation, trying to find some safer common ground. There was one Raker house far removed from the others, and likely only lightly manned. While destroying it would do little to weaken the structure and effectiveness of the opposition guild, perhaps such a conquest would quiet Jarlaxle's expected rampage.
"Recall the Basadoni soldiers," the wizard ordered. "Have their retreat be a visible one-instruct some to enter the Copper Ante or other establishments."
"The Copper Ante's doors are closed," Sharlotta reminded him.
"Then open them," Rai-guy instructed. "Tell Dwahvel Tiggerwillies that there is no need for her and her diminutive clan to cower this night. Let our soldiers be seen about the streets-not as a unified fighting force, but in smaller groups."
"What of Bregan D'aerthe?" Kimmuriel asked with some concern. Not as much concern, Rai-guy noted, as he would have expected, given that he had just countermanded Jarlaxle's explicit orders.
"Reposition Berg'inyon and all of our magic-users to the eighth position," Rai-guy replied, referring to the sewer hold beneath the exposed Raker house.
Kimmuriel arched his white eyebrows at that. They knew the maximum resistance they could expect from that lone outpost, and it hardly seemed as if Berg'inyon and more magic-users would be needed to win out easily in that locale.
"It must be executed as completely and carefully as if we were attacking House Baenre itself," Rai-guy demanded, and Kimmuriel's eyebrows went even higher. "Redefine the plans and reposition all necessary drow forces to execute the attack."
"We could summon our kobold slaves alone to finish this task," Kimmuriel replied derisively.
"No kobolds and no humans," Rai-guy explained, emphasizing every word. "This is work for drow alone."
Kimmuriel seemed to catch on to Rai-guy's thinking then, for a wry smile showed on his face. He glanced at Sharlotta, nodded back at Rai-guy, and closed his eyes. He used his psionic energies to reach out to Berg'inyon and the other Bregan D'aerthe field commanders.
Rai-guy let his gaze settle fully on Sharlotta. To her credit, her expression and posture did not reveal her thoughts. Still, Rai-guy felt certain she was wondering if he had come to suspect her or some other Raker informant.
"You said that our power would prove overwhelming," Sharlotta remarked.
"For today's battle, perhaps," Rai-guy replied. "The wise thief does not steal the egg if his action will awaken the dragon."
Sharlotta continued to stare at him, continued to wonder, he knew. He enjoyed the realization that this too- clever human woman, guilty or not, was suddenly worried. She turned for the ladder again and took a step up.
"Where are you going?" Rai-guy asked.
"To recall the Basadoni soldiers," she replied, as if the explanation should have been obvious.
Rai-guy shook his head and motioned for her to step down. "Kimmuriel will relay the commands," he said.
Sharlotta hesitated-Rai-guy enjoyed the moment of confusion and concern-but she did step back down to the tunnel floor.
Berg'inyon could not believe the change in plans-what was the point of this entire offensive if the bulk of the Rakers' Guild escaped the onslaught? He had grown up in
Menzoberranzan, and in that matriarchal society, males learned how to take orders without question. So it was now for Berg'inyon.
He had been trained in the finest battle tactics of the greatest house of Menzoberranzan and had at his disposal a seemingly overwhelming force for the task at hand, the destruction of a small, exposed Raker house-an outpost sitting on unfriendly streets. Despite his trepidation at the change in plans, his private questioning of the purpose of this mission, Berg'inyon Baenre wore an eager smile.
The scouts, the stealthiest of the stealthy drow, returned. Only minutes before, they had been inserted into the house above through wizard-made tunnels.
Drow fingers flashed, the silent hand gesture code.
While Berg'inyon's confidence mounted, so did his confusion over why this target alone had been selected. There were only a score of humans in the small house above, and none of them seemed to be magic-users. According to the drow scouts' assessment they were street thugs-men who survived by keeping to favorable shadows.
Under the keen eyes of a dark elf, there were no favorable shadows.
While Berg'inyon and his army had a strong idea of what they would encounter in the house above them, the humans could not understand the monumental doom that lay below them.
You have outlined to the group commanders all routes of retreat? Berg'inyon's fingers and facial gestures asked. He made it clear from the fact that he signaled retreat with his left hand that he was referring to any possible avenues their enemies might take to run away.
The wizards are positioned accordingly, one scout silently replied.
The lead hunters have been given their courses, another added.
Berg'inyon nodded, flashed the signal for commencing the operation, then moved to join his assault group. His would be the last group to enter the building, but they were the ones who would cut the fastest path to the very top.
There were two wizards in Berg'inyon's group. One stood with his eyes closed, ready to convey the signal. The other positioned himself accordingly, his eyes and hands pointed up at the ceiling, a pinch of seeds from the Under-dark selussi fungus in one hand.
It is time, came a magical whisper, one that seeped through the walls and to the ears of all the drow.
The magic-user eyeing the ceiling began his spell- casting, weaving his hands as if tracing joining semicircles with each, thumbs touching, little fingers touching, back and forth, back and forth, chanting quietly all the while.
He finished with a chant that sounded more like a hiss, and reached his outstretched fingers to the ceiling.
That part of the stone ceiling began to ripple, as if the wizard had stabbed his fingers into clear water. The wizard held the pose for many seconds. The rippling increased until the stone became an indistinct blur.
The stone above the wizard disappeared-was just gone. In its place was an upward reaching corridor that cut through several feet of stone to end at the ground floor of the Raker house.
One unfortunate Raker had been caught by surprise, his heels right over the edge of the suddenly appearing hole. His arms worked great circles as he tried to maintain his balance. The drow warriors shifted into position under the hole and leaped. Enacting their innate drow levitation abilities, they floated up, up.
The first dark elf floating up beside the falling Raker grabbed him by the collar and yanked him backward, tumbling him into the hole. The human managed to land in a controlled manner, feet first, then buckling his legs and tumbling to the side to absorb the shock. He came up with equal grace, drawing a dagger.
His face blanched when he saw the truth about him: dark elves-drow! — were floating up into his guild house. Another drow, handsome and strong, holding the finest-edged blade the Raker could ever have imagined, faced him.
Maybe he tried to reason with the dark elf, offering his surrender, but while his mouth worked in a logical, hide- saving manner, his body, paralyzed by stark terror, did not. He still held his knife out before him as he spoke, and since Berg'inyon did not understand well the language of the surface dwellers, he had no way of understanding the Raker's intent.