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neck。
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Ryld peered about the room。 Judging from the sunken arena in the center of the floor； the ruinous place had； in another era； served as a drinking pit—one of those rude establishments where dark elves of every station went to fet about caste and grace for a few hours； guzzle raw spirit； and watch undercreatures slaughter one another in contests that were often set up in such a way as to give them a ical aspect。
In other words； it would have been a crude sort of place by the standards of elegant Menzoberranzan； but it had grown cruder since the goblinoids had taken it over。 Scores if not hundreds of them packed into the space； and the mingled stink of their unwashed bodies； each race malodorous in its own particular fashion； was sickening。 The loud gabbling in their various harsh and guttural languages was nearly as unpleasant。 It all but drowned out the rhythmic thuds that filtered through the ceiling； but of course the shaggy gnoll drummer on the roof wasn't playing for the folk already inside but to guide others still in transit。
To Ryld's surprise； a fair number of the creatures assembling there hailed from outside the Braeryn。 He observed plain but relatively clean and intact garments suggestive of Eastmyr； and even liveries； steel collars； shackles； whip marks； and brands—the stigmata of thralls who'd sneaked away from their mistresses' affluent households。 Obviously； those who'd e from beyond the district couldn't have heard the drum through the magical buffers。 Some runner must have carried word to them。
Still magically disguised as ores； though not the same ones who'd tricked the two bugbears； the masters of Tier Breche had squeezed into a corner to watch whatever would transpire。
Certain no one would hear him over the ambient din； Ryld leaned his head close to Pharaun's and said； 〃I think it's just a party。〃
〃Do you see them celebrating？〃 Pharaun replied。 His new porcine face had a broken nose and tusk。 〃No； not as such。 They'd be considerably more boisterous。 They're waiting for something； and eagerly； too。 Observe those female goblins chattering and passing their bottle back and forth。〃 Pharaun nodded toward a trio of filthy； bandylegged creatures with flat faces and sloping brows。 〃They're aquiver with anticipation。 If they're still as giddy after the gathering breaks up； we may want to seek solace for our frustrations in their hairy； misshapen arms。〃
Certain his friend was joking； Ryld snorted 。 。 。 then realized he wasn't quite sure after all。
〃You'd have relations with a goblin〃
〃A true scholar always seeks new experiences。 Besides； what's the point of being a dark elf； a lord of the Underdark； if you don't exploit the slave races to the utmost？〃
〃Hmm。 I admit they might be no worse than one of those priestesses who demand you grovel and do exactly as you're—〃
〃Hush〃
The drum had stopped。
〃Something's happening；〃 Pharaun added。
Ryld saw that his friend was correct。 A stir ran through the crowd and they started to shout； 〃Prophet Prophet〃
The master of MeleeMagthere didn't know what he expected to see next； but it certainly wasn't the figure in the nondescript cloak and hood whose upper body appeared above the heads of the crowd。 Perhaps he'd climbed up on a bench or table； or maybe he'd simply levitated； for this 〃Prophet；〃 plainly beloved of the lower orders； appeared to be a handsome drow male。
The Prophet let his followers chant and shout for a minute or so； then he raised his slender hands and gradually they subsided。 Pharaun leaned close to Ryld again。
〃It's possible the fellow's not really one of us；〃 the wizard said。 〃He's wrapped in a glamour somewhat like ours； but his spell makes every observer perceive him in a favorable light。 I imagine the goblins see him as a goblin； the gnolls； as one of their own； and so forth。〃
〃What's inside the illusion？〃
〃I don't know。 The enchantment is peculiar。 I've never encountered anything quite like it。 I can't see through it； but I suspect we're about to learn his intentions。〃
〃My brothers and sisters；〃 the Prophet said。
His voice sparked another round of cheering； and he waited for it to run its course。
〃My brothers and sisters；〃 he repeated。 〃Since the founding of this city； the Menzoberranyr have held our peoples in bondage or in conditions equally degraded。 They work us until we die of exhaustion。 They torture and kill us on a whim。 They condemn us to starve； sicken； and live in squalor。〃
The audience growled its agreement。
〃You witness our misery everywhere you look；〃 the hooded orator continued。 〃Yesterday； I walked through Manyfolk。 I saw a hobgoblin girlchild； surely no older than five or six； trying to pick up a scrap of mushroom from the street。 With her teeth Her hands wouldn't serve。 Some drow had magically fused them together behind her back so she would live and die a cripple and a freak。〃
The crowd snarled in outrage； even though their races monly engaged in tortures equally cruel； albeit far less varied and imaginative。
〃I walked through Narbondellyn；〃 the Prophet said。 〃I saw an ore； paralyzed in some manner； lying on the ground。 A dark elf slit his chest； spread the flaps of skin； cut some ribs with a saw； and whistled his riding lizard over to feed on the stillliving thrall's ans。 The drow told a panion that he gave the reptile one such meal every tenday to make it a faster racer。〃
The audience howled its wrath。 One female ore； transported with fury； gashed her cheeks and brow with a piece of broken glass。
The Prophet's litany of atrocities ran on and on； and Ryld gradually felt a strange emotion overtaking him。 He knew it couldn't be guilt—no dark elf experienced that ridiculous condition—but perhaps it was a kind of shame； a disgust at the sheer waste and childishness manifest in Menzoberranzan's abuse of its undercreatures and a desire to rectify the situation if he could。
The feeling was irrational； of course。 The goblins and their kin existed only to serve the pleasure of the drow； and if you ruined one； you just caught or bought another。 The weapons master gave his head a shake； clearing it； then turned to Pharaun。
Even through his ore mask； the wizard's amusement was apparent。
〃Resolved to mend your wicked ways？〃
〃I gather you feel the influence； too；〃 said Ryld。 〃What's happening？〃
〃The Prophet has magic buttressing his oratory； again； in a sort of configuration I don't quite understand。〃
〃Right； but what's the point of all this bellyaching？'
〃I assume he'll get around to telling us。'
The speaker continued in the same vein a while longer； goading the crowd to the brink of hysteria。
At last he cried； 〃But it does not have to be that way'
The undercreatures howled； and for a moment； until he pushed the feelings away； Ryld felt his magically induced disgust blaze up into savage bloodlust。
〃We can be avenged Cast down the drow to be our slaves We'll sack Menzoberranzan； and afterward those of us who wish it will return to our own peoples laden with treasure； while the rest of us rule the cavern as our own〃
Not likely； thought Ryld。 He turned to say as much to Pharaun； then blinked in surprise。 The wizard looked as if he was taking this diatribe seriously。
〃They're just venting their rese