Haszakkin! the drow's thoughts instinctively screamed, their word for illithid-a word that conveyed a measure of respect the drow rarely gave to any creature that was not drow.
Dyon G'ennivalz? Yharaskrik asked, the name of a drow city the illithid had known well in its younger days.
Menzoberranzan, came the psionic reply.
House Oblodra, the brilliant creature imparted, for that atypical drow house was well known among all the mind flayer communities of Faerun's Underdark.
No more, came Kimmuriel's response.
Yharaskrik sensed anger there, and understood it well as Kimmuriel relayed the memories of the downfall of his arrogant family. There had been, during the Time of Troubles, a period when magic, but not psionics, had ceased to function. In that too-brief time, the leaders of House Oblodra had challenged the greater houses of Menzoberranzan, including mighty Matron Baenre herself. The energies shifted with the shifting of the gods, and psionics had become temporarily impotent, while the powers of conventional magic had returned. Matron Baenre's response to the threats of House Oblodra had wiped the structure and all of the family- except for Kimmuriel, who had wisely used his ties with Jarlaxle and Bregan D'aerthe to make a hasty retreat-from the city, dropping it into the chasm called the Clawrift.
You seek the conquest of Dallabad Oasis? Yharaskrik asked, fully expecting an answer, for creatures communicating through psionics often held their own loyalties to each other even above those of their kindred.
Dallabad will be ours before the night has passed, Kimmuriel honestly replied.
The connection abruptly ended, and Yharaskrik understood the hasty retreat as Kohrin Soulez sauntered into the dark chamber, his right hand clad in the cursed gauntlet that so interfered with psionic energy.
The illithid bowed before his supposed master.
"We have been scouted," Soulez said, getting right to the point, his tension obvious as he stood before the horrid mind flayer.
"Mind s eye," the illithid agreed in its physical, watery voice. "I sensed it."
"Powerful?" Soulez asked.
Yharaskrik gave a quiet gurgle, the illithid equivalent of a resigned shrug, showing his lack of respect for any psionicist that was not illithid. It was an honest appraisal, even though the psionicist in question was drow and not human, and tied to a drow house that was well known among Yharaskrik's people. Still, though the mind flayer was not overly concerned about any battle he might see against the drow psionicist, Yharaskrik knew the dark elves well enough to understand that the Oblodran psionicist would likely be the least of Kohrin Soulez's problems.
"Power is always a relative concept," the illithid answered cryptically.
Kohrin Soulez felt the tingling of magical energy as he ascended the long spiral staircase that took him back to the ground level of his palace in Dallabad. The guild-master broke into a run, scrambling, muscles working to their limits and his old bones feeling no pain. He thought that the attack must already be underway.
He calmed somewhat, slowing and huffing and puffing to catch his breath. He came up into the guild house to find many of his soldiers milling about, talking excitedly, but seeming more curious than terrified.
"Is it yours, Father?" asked Ahdahnia, her dark eyes gleaming.
Kohrin Soulez stared at her curiously, and taking the cue, Ahdahnia led him to an outer room with an east-facing window.
There it stood, right in the middle of Dallabad Oasis, within the outer walls of Kohrin Soulez's fortress.
A crystalline tower, gleaming in the bright sunlight, an image of Crenshinibon, the calling card of doom.
Kohrin Soulez's right hand throbbed with tingling energy as he looked at the magical structure. His gauntlet could capture magical energy and even turn it back against the initiator. It had never failed him, but in just looking at this spectacular tower the guildmaster suddenly recognized that he and his toys were puny things indeed. He knew without even going out and trying that he could not hope to drag the magical energies from that tower, that if he tried, it would consume him and his gauntlet. He shuddered as he pictured a physical manifestation of that absorption, an image of Kohrin Soulez frozen as a gargoyle on the top rim of that magnificent tower.
"Is it yours, Father?" Ahdahnia asked again.
The eagerness left her voice and the sparkle left her eyes as Kohrin turned to her, his face bloodless.
Outside of Dallabad fortress's wall, under the shelter of a copse of palm trees and surrounded by globes of magical darkness, Jarlaxle called to the tower. Its outer wall elongated, and sent forth a tendril, a stairway tunnel that breached the darkness globes and reached to the mercenary's feet. Secure that his soldiers were all in place, Jarlaxle ascended the stairs into the tower proper. With a thought to the Crystal Shard, he retracted the tunnel, effectively sealing himself in.
From that high vantage point in the middle of the fortress courtyard, Jarlaxle watched the unfolding drama around him.
Could you dim the light? he telepathically asked the tower.
Light is strength, Crenshinibon answered. For you, perhaps, the mercenary replied. For me, it is uncomfortable.
Jarlaxle felt a sensation akin to a chuckle from the Crystal Shard, but the artifact did comply and thicken its eastern wall, considerably dulling the light in the room. It also provided a floating chair for Jarlaxle, so that he could drift about the perimeter of the room, studying the battle that would soon unfold.
Notice that Artemis Entreri will partake of the attack, the Crystal Shard remarked, and it sent the chair floating to the northern side of the room. Jarlaxle took the cue and focused hard down below, outside the fortress wall, to the tents and trees and boulders. Finally, with helpful guidance from the artifact, the drow spotted the figure lurking about the shadows.
He did not do so when we planned the attack on Pasha Da'Daclan, Crenshinibon added. Of course, the Crystal Shard knew that Jarlaxle was considering the same thing. The implications continued to follow the line that Entreri had some secret agenda here, some private gain that was either outside of the domain of Bregan D'aerthe, or held some consequence within the second level of the band's hierarchy.
Either way, both Jarlaxle and Crenshinibon thought it more amusing than in any way threatening.
The floating chair drifted back across the small circular room, putting Jarlaxle in line with the first diversionary attack, a series of darkness globes at the top of the outer wall. The soldiers there went into a panic, running and crying out to reform a defensive line away from the magic, but even as they moved back-in fairly good order, Jarlaxle noted-the real attack began, bubbling up from the ground within the fortress courtyard.
Rai-guy had crossed the courtyard, ten difficult feet at a time, casting a series of passwall spells out of a wand. Now, from a natural tunnel that he had fortunately located below the fortress, the drow wizard enacted the last of those passwalls, vanishing a section of stone and dirt.
Immediately the soldiers of Bregan D'aerthe arose, floating with drow levitation into the courtyard, enacting darkness globes above them to confuse their enemies and to lessen the blinding impact of the hated sun.
"We should have attacked at night," Jarlaxle said aloud.
Daytime is when my power is at its peak, Crenshinibon responded immediately, and Jarlaxle felt the rest of the thought keenly. Crenshinibon was none-too-subtly reminding him that it was more powerful than all of Bregan D'aerthe combined.
That expression of confidence was more than a little disconcerting to the mercenary leader, for reasons that he hadn't yet begun to untangle.