“Let me help out.”

Teysa hesitated. The fear, the doubt, the shame, it all welled up inside her. All at once she found herself on the edge of screaming. She had to do something, had to, the need was burning inside her. She opened her mouth, not sure of what would come out.

“I want to help, Mish’li.” She stopped, listened to the words in her head, and nodded. “Yes. I want to help. We all do, don’t we?” She looked back at Aliara, who seemed confused but nodded. “The people out there in the shantytown. We want to do something for them.”

Mish’li smiled and clasped her hands to her chest. “Wonderful! Teysa, that’s wonderful to hear. We’re going to distribute supplies this afternoon. Would you like to come with us?” She looked serious. “It can be dangerous out there. The people are... they are not evil, but they are ****. It is understandable. But we have to be fair and equitable, even if we wish we could give more.”

Teysa found herself feeling better already. She remembered Brother Malachi, who had spent many long, dry afternoons lecturing them on catechism. One of his favorite parables was the Soldier’s Quandary. A soldier of Agamor, traveling home from the crusade, had had the good fortune to stumble on a small chapel just in time for the noon prayer. As he had been about to enter, he had heard a cry from the far side of the road. A merchant’s horse had lamed and thrown him into a ditch, from which he could not escape. The soldier headed for the chapel, figuring that he could out and help the man after the service, only to be denied entrance by the aged priest. When he asked why, the priest told him, “Agamor sees all of your actions. One prayer missed is a trifle, but every time you let suffering go unheeded, you tarnish your soul forever.”

Malachi had liked to pose theoretical problems, the answer to all of which was the same. “If you can kneel in prayer or help your fellow man, help your fellow man! If you can deliver a fine tapestry to a church or help your fellow man, help your fellow man! If you are late to meet the Patriarkos Himself in the Holy City for a private audience, but on the way you see a man who needs your help... what do you do, class?”

Teysa hoped that the part about Agamor being able to see all of her actions was true. Even if He isn’t looking, though, I still have to do this. Even if He has turned his light from me... I can’t leave those people. I just can’t.

Mish’li laid a hand on Teysa’s arm. “Please, wait her for just a moment while I gather the novices.” She looked down to the mace on Teysa’s belt. “It would be wise to be armed, but please, do not harm these people unless it is a matter of life or ****. They are suffering, and their suffering makes them ****.”

“I promise,” Teysa said, and held up her hand to swear. Mish’li bowed at her and withdrew.

When she had gone, Aliara sidled up to Teysa. “I suppose I should have seen this coming,” she said, “but are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Li, I can’t just ignore those people! I can’t! Can you?”

Aliara looked like she was biting back a sarcastic reply. Instead she said, “No. No, I can’t. Remember, I was one of them, once. I know what it’s like. Just... you can’t save the world, Tey. Not by yourself. It’s good to do what we can, but what’s happening to them, it isn’t your fault.”

Isn’t it, though? Teysa thought about what Mish’li had said. They could see a web when they were caught in one. Teysa’s revelation had cracked open drow society, and the shantytown was what had spilled out. As if sensing her thoughts, Aliara spoke. “Tey, they’re free now. Free. They were still suffering when they were slaves, it was just less visible. You saved those people.”

“Not well enough, evidently.” Teysa sighed. “I thought it would be simpler than this. Didn’t you?”

Aliara gave her a long, calculating look and shook her head. “No, dear. No, I never did. This was always going to be long, and hard, and bloody. All you can give people is a chance.”

Teysa was spared having to think of a reply by Mish’li’s return. In the priestess’s wake were a dozen novices, each bearing a lumpy satchel. El’keth scurried forward. “Mish’li,” she said, “I could... I could carry some supplies. If you wanted. On my back, I guess, or, or, I don’t know...” she trailed off as the novices turned to look up at her. Their stares were more curious than affronted, but she shrank back anyways. One of them whispered something her neighbor, and both broke out in giggles. El’keth blushed, a strange sight on her ebony skin.

“Thank you, El’keth.” Mish’li shot a pointed glare at her charges, who looked down bashfully. “That would be lovely.” She directed a novice to fetch a rope, then slung a half dozen sacks around El’keth’s shoulders. The novices fetched more to replace them and then they were off.

They moved in a stately procession through the Basilica and out the front doors. A pair of guards fell in alongside them, but Mish’li waved them off. “We have Teysa and Aliara to watch us today,” she said. “I’m sure you’re quite busy here.” As they wound their way through the city, El’keth drew her share of gawkers, but pedestrians scurried out of their way. Perhaps it was Mish’li’s authority they respected. Perhaps Teysa and Aliara’s steel. Certainly, their little group was given a wide berth until they reached a postern gate in the wall.

The guard on duty goggled at El’keth as she drew up, but quickly remembered himself and saluted Mish’li. “Feeding time, milady?” he asked as he drew back the bolt.

“I wish you wouldn’t call it that.” Mish’li scowled. “They’re people, not animals.” The guard shrugged. “As you say, milady. Some days, it seems like they’re confused about that.”

Mish’li ignored that. The gate creaked open before them. Compared to the main entrance, it was small, but still wide enough for El’keth and tall enough to admit her if she stooped. The area immediately outside was clear, but the shantytown began soon afterward. A few scattered tents marked the border.

The first thing that hit Teysa was the smell. It was overpowering: the stink of sweat, piss, unwashed bodies, undercooked food. She smelled sickly-sweet rot and the sharp tang of blood. The people around here shrank away as she led the party forward. They were of every race she had seen, and some she hadn’t; human and drow, mostly, but elves from the surface, dwarves, gnomes, even hobgoblins and half-orcs. All they had in common was their smell, their shabby appearance, and the looks of **** misery in their eyes. A crowd of them soon followed the procession at a safe distance, their eyes wide and hungry. At least none of them seemed to spare El’keth a second glance. They were all intently focused on the bags and boxes the novices carried.

Mish’li called a halt in the middle of a clearing. The charred remains of a bonfire sat in a pit in the center. Rubbish and debris showed that this had been the site of some great event in recent days— a feast, perhaps, or a celebration. Not that the... the denizens of the shantytown (the word had never seemed more appropriate) looked like they had much to celebrate. Or much to feast on, if it came to that. Mish’li stepped up onto half of a barrel and raised her arms. “People of the Underneath!” she cried. “We bring you a gift from Mother Lolth. Please, friends, share this among you. We will be back with more soon.”

The crowd began to press in almost at once. The novices threw open their bundles. Inside, they had loaves of bread, bundles of dried jerky, and sheaves of cured fungus— sour, chewy, but nutritious. Whatever they held up, the throng grasped eagerly. Teysa was hemmed in at all sides and had to fight the impulse to draw her mace. The people around her were young, old, healthy, lame, all shouting, all begging at once. “Salve, please!” cried an old man in a phlegmy voice. “For my leg!” Mish’li reached into her bag and pulled out a small clay tub, which she pressed into the old man’s hand. A young woman elbowed through the crowd with a baby in her arms. “Please, milady,” she wept, “‘tis the dry rot in his lung!” She thrust the infant out in front of her. Mish’li took him, put an ear to his chest, then handed him back along with a slim glass vial.

But there were more, many more, and soon Mish’li’s bag ran dry. A young man presented a hand whose smallest two fingers stank of gangrene. “A sharp knife,” Mish’li told him, “and fire, afterward.” A woman led her daughter up by the hand. The girl, no older than five or six, stared blindly ahead with milky, cataracted eyes. Mish’li had nothing to offer her except condolences. The food ran out next, and still the crowd pushed in around them. A drow boy, clutching one of the last loaves of bread to his chest, tripped and went sprawling. The bread bounced out of his grip and vanished into the crowd. Teysa darted forward, but it was all she could do to pull him to his feet before he was trampled. The bread had long since gone. He looked up at her with tearful eyes. “That was for my sister ‘n me,” he bawled. “What can we eat now?” Teysa rummaged in her pack and handed him the last of her travel bread. It was smaller than the loaf he had lost, but he clutched it as though it were made of gold, and planted a chapped kiss on her cheek before darting back into the mob.

And still the people came. Mish’li waved her hands as the novices packed up their empty satchels. “There will be more soon!” she promised. “Another group this afternoon!”

“Piss on that!” shouted a burly half-orc. His upper body was bare and covered with scars, some of which were crusted with fresh blood. “We’re hungry now!”

“Yeah!” A high elf woman took up the cry. Her face was narrow and aristocratic, though drawn and wasted with hunger. Her ears had both been lopped off halfway up their length, leaving ugly stubs, and her blonde hair stood out in waxy clumps. “The strong ones take it all and sell it! It’s not fair!”

Shouts and jeers flew in from all sides, followed by clods of earth and less identifiable things. A bottle shattered between Teysa’s feet, and another barely missed Aliara. The crowd hemmed them in. People in the front scrambled to escape, while those behind them pressed in heedlessly. Teysa saw a dwarf slip in the crush of bodies and vanish beneath their feet.