With only two hired enforcers, Phaere waited at the docks of Ust Natha under the cover of Darkness. It was the dark of Nathstallyn, the magical timepiece that could be seen from every part of the city. The clock had been completely darkened, meaning it was midnight in Ust Natha, and most of the city's inhabitants were asleep or otherwise resting.

The docks were relatively clean and luxuriously designed, as every Drow amenity was. Cold drew upwards from the water, but Phaere paid it little heed.

And finally, the boat loomed from the darkness. In dead silence, the sloop, sent by a barge still out on the underground river beyond the city cavern, arrived at the docks. Phaere and her hired goons did not move as the barge's occupants quickly moored the sloop.

Inside the sloop sat a short, but lavishly dressed Drow male, flanked by two muscular bugbears. Aside from them, the sloop contained four large crates and two medium-sized barrels. Quickly, the male stepped out while the two bugbears unloaded one of the crates. It was Phaere's cue to step forward.

"You're late, Nym," Phaere nodded.

"Had to dodge a patrol," Nym spoke. "We had a hard time getting this inside the city-walls. Ardulace really wants to keep this city locked down, but fortunately, this smuggler is not easily deterred."

"Shall we get down to business?" Phaere asked.

"Have you got the cash?"

"From anyone else, I would find that question insulting," Phaere spoke and motioned her two male companions to reveal a sack. Inside the sack were two rectangular gold bars.

"Gold bars?"

Phaere shrugged. "Less conspicuous than two sacks of coins slapped over my shoulder... or their shoulders."

"Fair enough," Nym said and motioned to the bugbears to open the crate they had just unloaded. "Would you like to sample the merchandise?" he said as one of the bugbears opened the crate with a crowbar.

Phaere nodded eagerly and stepped over to the crate. She reached inside and licked her lips as she felt the familiar texture. Gingerly, almost afraid to harm it, she lifted a single turnip from the crate.

"Go ahead," Nym grinned. "It's Jansen-grade stuff. Very pure."

Phaere snapped her fingers and one of her goons provided her with a small knife. She quickly sliced off a small piece and put it in her mouth. For a moment, Phaere shuddered in delight as she savored every bit of the divine vegetable.

After putting the turnip back, Phaere turned towards Nym. "Nym," Phaere grinned. "We have a deal."

The goons started to load the crates and the barrels from the boat into Phaere's cart. Phaere and Nym left the workers to their labor and stood together to watch over the lake. "A Jansen gnome assured me that this is the best quality turnip available... at least, that is what I was able to decipher from the long-winded story about her uncle Castro she was telling me. He rules a small island somewhere and shoots cigars to a nearby kingdom with a giant catapult."

"These turnips will turn a nice profit," Phaere said. "Ever since the blockade and the war, the Matrons have been hoarding all turnips for themselves. So these will make the commoners very happy... provided they can pay the price, of course."

"Naturally," Nym said. "Oh, before I forget. Seeing we have a long-standing business relationship, I wanted to give you a little extra."

"What is that?" Phaere asked while Nym produced the item.

"Laska?" Phaere spoke as she knocked and entered the floor she had gifted to Laska and her party to stay. "Laska, are you here?"

"Who's there?" called Imoen from the common bathroom.

"The mistress who owns the place!" Phaere called back.

Immediately, Imoen came out, having quickly put on her leather tunic, but still needing to dry her hair from the bath she had just stepped out a few moments ago. "Oh, um, hi, Phaere. What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be out doing stuff or something?"

"Cheeky, aren't you?" Phaere said. "Is Laska here?"

"Sorry, no," Imoen said. "She and Viconia went out shopping today. I don't know where the others are. Probably poking around at the Spire somewhere. Minsc, Jan, Korgan and Keldorn are out drinking and Dynaheir hasn't left the pleasure-chambers for two days."

"Damn," Phaere sighed. "Oh, well, maybe you can help me with this."

Imoen gulped for a moment and dropped the towel she used to dry her hair. "You, um," Imoen blushed, "I mean, um, I can't, well, um, you know, DO stuff to you. I... um, I..."

"Calm down," Phaere sighed. "If I wanted you to please me, I'd be naked by now. No, I only wanted to ask Laska a question, seeing she has clocked time on the surface."

"Oh, oh, I've been to the surface too," Imoen smiled. "Go ahead, ask your question."

"Okay," Phaere said as she produced an object covered with a cloth. "I was given this by a business associate of mine. He said it's an exotic, but I can't figure out what the hell it is supposed to be."

With one sweep of her hand, she removed the cloth, revealing a gilded bird cage. Inside the cage, however, was a young cat. It was grey with dark patches and had piercing green eyes. Ever so often, it would mew and pace around the cage, looking for a way out..

"Ooooooohhhhhh," Imoen cooed uncontrollably. "What a cute wittle putty-cat!" After moving to sit on her knees in front of the cage, she pressed her nose against the bars. "You're so cute! Yes, you are! Yes, you are!"

Looking up, however, Imoen was confronted with Phaere's raised eyebrows. "How old are you?" she asked.

"Old enough!" Imoen giggled. "What a cute cat! We used to have a cat just like this in Ca--- Erm, I mean Ched Nassad."

"Oh, really?" Phaere raised an eyebrow. "How is that possible? It is a surface animal, after all."

"Well, emmmm," Imoen gulped, "well, Ched Nassad is close to the surface, so sometimes cats come wandering in from the mantle-caves. So, um, children often keep them as pets."

"I see, yes, Ched Nassad is much closer to the surface than Ust Natha is, I suppose," Phaere nodded, leaving Imoen to sign inwardly in relief. She had no idea if Ched Nassad was close to the surface when she tried her bluff, but luckily it had paid off.

"But," Phaere said, "what do I do with it now? How do I have it prepared?"

"Prepared?" Imoen asked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, should it be baked? Should it be fried?" Phaere said as she looked the cat over. "It seems a bit scrawny for a fricassee. Very little meat, but I bet it tastes well with the right sauce. I actually came to see Laska to ask if she knows any good recipes for this creature. The cook needs to know what to do."

Imoen, in the meantime, had gone pale while her mouth opened and closed as if she were a fish. Then, she jumped forward, grabbed Phaere by the shoulderblades of her decorative armor and pushed her into the wall. "You CAN'T eat a cat! You can't, you can't, you can't!"

The stronger Phaere responded by grabbing Imoen by the right shoulder with her left hand and tossing her aside with little effort. "Why not?" Phaere snarled. "It's my creature, and I can do with it what I like."

"Because... because cats are CUTE!" Imoen wailed.

"I don't know what goes for cute in Ched Nassad, but up here, creatures need to have eight legs to be considered cute," Phaere spoke. "Look at this thing! It has hair everywhere and only two eyes!"

"But NO eating cats!"

"Why not?!"

"Because, um, they're poisonous!" Imoen said, trying to look as serious as possible. "It's a terrible poison, that turns your breasts into shriveled up raisins that fall off."

"I have trouble believing you. Now why would that be?" Phaere snarled.

"Do you really want to risk it?" Imoen said with wide eyes. "It's your choice."

Phaere looked from her quite nicely revealed bosom to her cat and back again. "I guess not," Phaere sighed. "But I have no time for pets. Hmm, I don't think I'll find a buyer for it, though. I think Matron Triel of House Baerne in Menzoberranzan collects exotic animals. Perhaps I send word..." Phaere thought out aloud.

"Yes," Imoen grinned. "Send her to a loving owner who'll care for her."

"...but I'll need to have the cat stuffed first. I need to contact a taxidermist," Phaere continued to think out loud.

"LOOK!" Imoen said quickly. "Why don't you take her as a pet yourself?"

"I'm a busy woman, I have no time for pets," Phaere spoke.

"But she's a cat, so there's not much work involved," Imoen wailed. "Oh, come on, think of the love she can give you when you come home from a busy day of money-hoarding!"

"Hmm, I do love to hoard money," Phaere said and rubbed her chin.

"You'll be the only one in Ust Natha to have a cat!" Imoen offered. "She's unique in this city. Think of the prestige!"

"Hmm, I do love unique things," Phaere said. "Not much work, you said?"

"Oh, yes," Imoen said. "My old cat Tom practically ran his own life... until that stupid mouse that kept pestering him finally gave him a nervous break-down."

"Oh, very well," Phaere sighed. "If she gives trouble, I can always have her stuffed and sell her later."

That said, Phaere put down the gilded cage and opened it. The cat was only too happy to get out. She ran around for a while, jumping on top of furniture until she ended up sitting on top of the table licking her paw.

"CAT!" Phaere called. "Come here!"

The cat just looked at Phaere as if she were a funny clown and continued licking.

"OBEY!" Phaere called. "Now follow me back to my penthouse!"

The cat wasn't particularly impressed.

"CAT!" Phaere tried. "I order you to kill Imoen right now!"

"Errmm, Phaere?" Imoen said. "It doesn't work that way with cats. They're not really the type of animals that follows orders."

Phaere snorted. "What use is it then? Males make for more obedient pets."

"This is your new home," Phaere spoke as she let the cat in. "Try not to crap on the carpet."

"Mistress?!" sounded from her half-drow servant girl in the second bedroom. "I know I've been a bad girl, but I'm getting really hungry now!"

"Later!" Phaere shouted, then turned back to the cat she had just put on the group. To her horror, she noticed it had put both her nailed paws into her rothe-leather two-seater and sliced all the way down to the floor.

"YOU LITTLE BASTARD!" Phaere shouted. "That cost a fortune!"

The cat didn't seem very impressed and jumped up a table, knocking over a priceless vase in the process.

"AH!" Phaere snarled. "That was the vase I used to smuggle my first turnips into the city!"

"Nyao," the cat replied.

"I'm going to KILL YOU!" Phaere snarled and grabbed a blade hanging from the wall, a vicious looking efficient serrated blade. But the cat was away when the blade slashed Phaere antique table in two. Phaere's anger only increased after more and more furniture ended up as the chopping block for a cat that jumped away at the last moment.

In the end, Phaere panted as she sank to her knees in exhaustion. Her penthouse had been turned into a war zone of broken furniture, slashed artwork and torn carpet. To make matters worse, the cat sat down on the broken table and licked her paw.

"I hate you," Phaere snarled.

"Well, you're off the hook," Phaere snarled as she came into her penthouse again and confronted the cat. The cat, however, didn't mind as she lay in front of the furnace while males were carrying in Phaere's new furniture. "I can't find any assassin who's willing to kill you. I've waved a lot of money around, but their stupid pride got in the way... and those willing to do the deed are so amateurish they'd probably botch it up anyway."

"Mistress Phaere?" one of the males interrupted. A scrawny fellow holding a clipboard.

"What is it?!" Phaere snarled, causing the male to step back.

"We freed the girl in the back from the velvet straps, and she told us that you needed a rothe-skin two-seater replaced, so..."

A sharp cry sounded, piercing the ears of everybody in the room. Looking over his shoulder, the male notice he was now standing on top of the cat's tail. He quickly lifted his foot, but could no get away quickly because he flaw a while hissing fur ball with slashing claws heading towards his face.

"AAAAH, GET IT OFF! GET IT OFFFFFFF!" the male cried in anguish as the cat snarled, sliced and diced through his skin. Rolling over the floor, the male tried to get away was unsuccessful. In the end, the male lay bleeding on his back with the cat sitting on top of his chest... licking her paw.

"My, my, my," Phaere grinned, looking upon the cat with new eyes. She picked up the cat and petted it a little, making the animal purr with delight. "You and I are going to get along fine."

She sat down in her chair with her new pet in her lap and continued petting. "A name for you, then. How about... Vicious?"

The cat purred in approval.