She accompanies Jez'ria

"Let's go together," Teysa said. "It seems safer. This... contact of yours. Does the Matron know that you're paying protection?"

El'keth gasped and stared at Jez'ria with a frightened look on her face. The larger drider laughed. "Don't vorry, little one," she said. "I'm not going behind your mother'z back. She knowz. You see all these traderz around here?" She swept her arm to take in the sprawl of tents and stalls. "To sell in the dwarven citiez takes paperz, license, who knowz vhat else. These merchantz can't afford it, or they have something to hide. So they come here instead. Everyone here iz hiding something. That'z vhy they'll buy from a drider."

"Well... if you say so," said Teysa. She was still nonplussed. She had had a mental image of dwarves as neat, law-abiding people. Their cities were certainly clean and orderly. This was a side to them that she hadn't expected.

Their party drew their fair share of stares as they made their way through the press of stalls. El'keth's cart rattled and bounced across a bed of flagstones. Teysa walked close by with her hand on her mace. After hearing Jez'ria's description, she half expected bandits to waylay them and attempt to rob the cart, but nobody did. Those few merchants who crossed their path quickly scurried out of the way. Perhaps this had to do with Jez'ria; freed from the yoke that had bound her to her cart, she towered over even El'keth, and she radiated strength despite her wounded limbs.

On the other hand, perhaps it was because of the guards. They patrolled the market in pairs. They were all dwarves, all wearing that all-encompassing plate armor complete with carved masks. They carried double-handed axes slung over their shoulders with casual ease. Occasionally, a pair would inspect a piece of merchandise and corner the vendor to ask pointed questions. Buyers and sellers alike avoided them.

"What's with the guards?" Aliara asked. "I thought you said this place was all run by the mob, or whatever."

Jez'ria shook her head. "They take a piece of every sale, but the dwarvez rule here, and they vant everyone to know it. Anyone selling counterfeit or inferior goodz will regret it. At length."

Teysa shuddered. Clearly, she still had a lot to learn about the Underneath.

Their winding path took them through the main body of the market, towards the ring of stone buildings around the outskirts. This close, Teysa could see that they were stone facades carved into the wall; the actual buildings were tunneled into the rock itself. Jez'ria led them into a long, low building with an arched doorway. From a distance, it had looked like an inn or stable, but up close its true scale became apparent: it was like the longhouse of some barbarian king, a great hall where hundreds could feast at once. The inside did nothing to dispel this image. Five great hearths were set in the back wall, each housing a crackling fire the size of an oxcart. Most of the smoke disappeared up through concealed flues, but Teysa's eyes still stung as she ducked into the room. The room was lit only by the fires, which cast a wild array of dancing shadows across every flat surface. In the sweltering gloom, strange shapes whirled and cavorted. The room was full of the low murmur of conversation and the high trill of pipes and flutes. From somewhere in the gloom, a drumbeat echoed: doom, doom, doom, a harsh counterpoint to the manic shriek of the pipes.

Teysa's eyes were starting to adjust. Not all of the smoke, she saw, came from the fireplaces: the room was full of low tables, and mounted atop each one was a bulbous hookah. Indistinct figures lounged in cushions around the hookahs, passing long-stemmed pipes from hand to hand and exhaling clouds of aromatic smoke. Between the tables, the twirling shapes writhed and undulated. They were mostly drow, Teysa could see, but also elves and humans of both sexes. All were lithe, young, wearing little more than scraps of gauze and strips of leather. They wore piercings, too, rings and studs and bars through ear and nose and nipple, and Teysa began to feel a queasy sense of familiarity. There was something about the dancers, the clouds of smoke, and the rippling and twisting shadows that tugged at her memory. In a long career, she had seen dens of sin much more debauched and vile than this, but her hand strayed to her mace all the same.

There was a definite order underlying the madness. Jez'ria led them onward along a spiraling path. As they passed the tables, misshapen figures glanced up with languid, heavy-lidded eyes. Something that looked like the contents of a taxidermist's wastebin blew a thick cloud of smoke from a dozen holes at once and let out a wheezy, burbling laugh. An elegantly dressed man with a face full of writhing tentacles regarded the party as they marched by. By his side, a stick-thin woman with a half-dozen arms inhaled from the pipe, unbuttoned the top button of her blouse, counted coins and slid a hand down her companion's trousers, all at once.

Teysa shuddered. She had never been comfortable in these types of places. This type of infiltration and information-gathering had always been Aliara's province. Here, even the half-elf seemed discomfited. Her shoulders were hunched and her head jutted forward; she flinched away from every burst of laughter.

Eventually their winding path brought them before a dais near the back of the hall. A slab of veined white marble stood perhaps two feet proud of the floor. Atop it was what looked at first glance like a baroque piece of **** equipment. Bands of steel interlaced and interlocked to form a cup-shaped depression. Leather strips crisscrossed the cup, taut in some places, loose in others. The steel bands were ridged and knurled with irregular protrusions and jagged barbs, so that anyone trying to sit or lie down in the cup would be pricked and cut no matter how carefully they positioned themselves.

Someone was sitting there now. Lounging would perhaps be a better word; the figure sprawled, catlike, with her legs folded over each other and one arm dangling down nearly to the floor. She wore a gown that must, at one point, have been the height of fashion: even now, Teysa could see traces of delicate stitchwork and inlaid pearls and precious stones. The sharp-edged chair had torn it to tattered ribbons. The flesh Teysa could see was covered in cuts and scabs, some still streaked with blood. As they approached, the woman in the chair stirred. In her right hand she held a pipe connected to a long hose that disappeared around behind her "throne." She held the pipe to her mouth for a minute or so, then turned her head and exhaled a gargantuan cloud of smoke. It washed over Teysa and she fell to coughing. The smoke tasted of exotic spices and rotten fruit. Just a hint of it burned her nostrils, and she gagged. Aliara was similarly affected, but Jez'ria ignored it.

The smoker sat upright and looked down on her visitors. Teysa's breath, which had just started to return, caught in her throat. The drow staring down on her was young-looking-- at least, that portion of her face that could be seen between the piercings that festooned nearly every available corner. One nostril bore a large pearl stud, the other three golden rings. Her eyebrows each carried a half-dozen tiny golden barbels tipped with emeralds. One ear was criss-crossed with bars, the other gauged with discs of jade; both were covered in golden rings and silver studs carved to look like animal heads. Her lips, her cheeks... even the bridge of her nose was pierced. When she smiled, her teeth glittered with inlaid stones. She held out one hand, and every inch of every finger was covered in rings: silver, gold, some with diamonds or rubies or sapphires. The hand alone carried more wealth than Teysa had ever owned at once. Teysa only knew one person who carried around her strongbox pierced through her flesh.

The Eel giggled and splayed out her fingers. Jez'ria took the proffered hand in her own. Her huge fingers dwarfed the drow's dainty ones, but all the same she bent at the waist and kissed the largest ring. The Eel looked from her to Teysa, then Aliara, and finally El'keth, hiding in the back.

"Well, well, well," she said. Her voice was bright and cheery, even though the many rings through her lips and tongue caused a noticeable lisp. "Jez'ria, my friend. You've returned to me. Minuth a couple of limbth, I thee. Trouble on the road?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle," said Jez'ria, evenly. "Ve lost some of our varez, I'm afraid, so the tribute will be smaller than last time."

The Eel flicked a hand. "A trifle, my dear. Your thafety ith prithelethth to me." She turned to Teysa and Aliara. "And look who it ith. My, my, my. I never thought I'd thee you two again. Did you mithth me? Perhapth you've changed your mind about adorning yourthelveth? It really ith quite liberating." She flicked a finger against her largest hoop earring, making it ring.

Aliara's face was tight and bloodless. Her hands kept flinching towards her daggers. Teysa's head swam, but she tried to keep her bearings. "It is a pleasure to see you again, your honor," she said. Her voice was stiff and formal. The Eel's eyes widened, and she giggled again. "My honor! How polite! Oh, I did mithth you, Teytha dear. Tho glad to thee you've landed on your feet." She steepled her fingers in front of her. "And who ith thith lovely young thing in the back? Come clother, dear, I can barely thee you." She beckoned El'keth, who took a few hesitant steps forward. Her cart rattled along behind her. She was nearly the height of the Eel, dais, chair and all, but she shrank back from her. The drow stood and walked to the edge of the platform. She put her hands on her hips and bent over to inspect El'keth from all angles.

"Hm. You look young, dear. What ith your name? I don't know how it workth with you people. Did you jutht hatch, or sprout, or whatever it ith you do?"

"E-el'keth, Your Honor," El'keth said. Her eyes flickered to Teysa for support. Teysa nodded encouragingly, and El'keth continued, though her voice still quavered. "I-I am the Matron's daughter. It is a pleasure to meet you. I h-hope that we may have many years of prosperous trade between our w-warren and your... your..." she trailed off and looked around in confusion.

"Lithen to you, dear," the Eel said. "'Prothperouth trade.' No, I'm no merchant, El'keth. Ath long ath you pay me on time, I don't care what you thell or when." She sat back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other. "Thpeaking of. I thee that your caravan today ith a bit thmaller than normal. I would hate to cut into your profitth, but luckily, an opportunity prethentth itthelf. Teytha, Aliara, I recall that before you were able to help me deal with a nathty little problem I wath having. If you're available, I have need of your thervithe again. Help me, and I'll waive your tribute for, oh, a year?"

She leaned forward, and for the first time, her expression twisted into something like anger. "Bethideth, I think it'th an... interethting cointhidenthe that I go to all the trouble to thet up a meeting between you and that priethtethth, and then a few dayth later thee popth up declaring a new era for the drow, the end of thlavery, reform in the Church, and tho on. If I had a thuthpithiouth turn of mind, I might think that you two had thomething to do with it." She tapped a finger against her chin. Her rings bounced against the studs in her face with a rhythmic clink. "But! It all turned out all right, ath you thee. I've relocated my operathion here and we are thriving!" She threw her hands out above her head. "And I am thure that a helpful pair like you would be glad to thtep in and lay my worrieth to retht."