Maestro

CHAPTER 4

They have no allies,” High Priestess Charri Hunzrin reminded her mother, Matron Mother Shakti. “They look down upon the whole of the city from the recesses of the West Wall, high above. They huddle behind their driders and sneer at all who are not Melarni.”

“I am well aware of the zealotry of Zhindia Melarn,” Shakti replied. “And true, it would be hard to name any as allies of this precocious young House. But Matron Mother Mez’Barris Armgo is no enemy to the Melarni, in these times.”

The mention of the Matron Mother of the Second House quieted Charri. Barrison Del’Armgo had been House Hunzrin’s most important ally for many decades. House Hunzrin thrived through trade and by controlling most of the agriculture in Menzoberranzan. Under the stern and disciplined leadership of Shakti, the family Hunzrin had greatly advanced in wealth and a subtle stature. Their ranking had not changed, and they remained the Eleventh House, cheated from ascension by the insertion of House Do’Urden onto the Ruling Council after the abdication of Matron Mother Zeerith and House Xorlarrin. Surely the other Houses held in check by that unusual, indeed unprecedented, creation by Matron Mother Quenthel had been simmering in outrage ever since, particularly House Duskryn, the Ninth House, whose ambitious matron mother openly coveted a seat on the Ruling Council and had been denied yet again.

But such formalities had never impressed Shakti Hunzrin. She was more concerned with actual power and wealth over ceremony and formality. Her family was often ridiculed as “stone heads” because of their work with the farms, but to her and the other nobles, that underestimation offered opportunity more than it wounded pride.

Past a bend in the avenue, rounding a large stalagmite mound, the two women came in sight of House Melarn, unmistakable because it was fashioned with the most unusual architecture in the City of Spiders. Melarn was the newest of Menzoberranzan’s major Houses, formed of a union between House Kenafin and House Horlbar, a joining of purpose and spirit that arose from the ashes of war a century before, where the two allied Houses battled against House Tuin’Tarl, then the Eighth House. Tuin’Tarl was destroyed and the combined Houses, under the name of Melarn, replaced the deposed Matron Mother of House Tuin’Tarl on the Ruling Council. Among the new Melarni were many drow left orphaned by the fall of the sister city of Ched Nasad, a community distinguished by its web-like walkways.

Those refugees had brought Ched Nasad’s unique architecture with them to Menzoberranzan, and it was clearly on display here in the gracefully swaying bridges of spiderwebs that filtered back and forth, climbing the west wall of the cavern to the Melarni front door, a hundred feet and more from the cavern.

Matron Mother Shakti held her daughter back with an upraised arm, and quietly uttered a minor spell. A magical hammer appeared in the air across the way, just to the right of the lowermost web pathways of the facade of House Melarn. On Shakti’s command, the hammer tapped against the wall, once and then again.

Then it disappeared, and Shakti motioned for Charri to follow. By the time they neared the area, the cracks of a concealed doorway were evident in the wall, and the stone fell away as they approached, revealing a tunnel. Within stood First Priestess Kyrnill Melarn, who bowed in proper deference to Matron Mother Hunzrin and bade her to follow. This was no ordinary first priestess, Shakti prudently reminded herself. Normally, that title was held by the eldest daughter of a noble family, but Kyrnill was not related to Zhindia. Zhindia was the eldest daughter of Matron Mother Jerlys of House Horlbar, and Kyrnill had been the Matron Mother of House Kenafin. When the two Houses merged into House Melarn, Kyrnill Kenafin had allowed Zhindia to become matron mother of the new House Melarn. It was a strategic move, the other matron mothers knew, because the too-clever Kyrnill had expected that the first matron mother of the new House would surely be killed in the chaotic aftermath of the joining. But Zhindia had survived, and Kyrnill had accepted her role as first priestess-though surely she was more than that.

Deep and down the trio traveled, far into the western wall and far below the compound of House Melarn. They passed many guard stations on their journey, manned by beastly driders. No House was more enamored of and protected by the horrid half-drow, half-spider abominations as the zealots of House Melarn, who celebrated the torture of morphing a drow into a drider like other families might celebrate the birthday of a favored daughter.

In a deep and secret room, protected by hundreds of feet of solid stone and magical wards, both arcane and divine, the two Hunzrins were presented to Matron Mother Zhindia Melarn, the youngest Matron Mother of Menzoberranzan, and by far the youngest member of the city’s Ruling Council-if one ignored the presence of the iblith Matron Mother Darthiir Do’Urden, and none was more pleased to ignore that abomination than Zhindia Melarn. The circular chamber was ringed by a raised walkway upon which stood drider guards, looking even larger because they stood several feet above the lower floor. All clutched adamantine long spears, and all seemed eager to put those deadly weapons to use.

“I am pleased that you answered my call,” Matron Mother Zhindia said to her guests, and she motioned for the visiting Hunzrins to sit around the small, rectangular table, as Kyrnill took her place to the right of her matron mother.

“You insisted that your information was important to my family,” Shakti Hunzrin replied. “And my prayers to the Spider Queen assured my safety.”

“Indeed, to both,” Zhindia replied. “You are aware of the events in Q’Xorlarrin?”

“That the dwarves reclaimed their complex and expelled Matron Mother Zeerith?”

“Yes, and the present disposition of Matron Mother Zeerith and her family?”

“Her powerful family,” Shakti remarked.

“Her heretical family,” Kyrnill corrected with a sneer.

The remark surprised the Hunzrin guests. By all estimates, House Melarn was in no position to engage powerful House Xorlarrin, even if Matron Mother Zeerith’s family had been wounded by the advance of the dwarves.

“You are pleased by this development, no doubt,” Matron Mother Zhindia said bluntly.

Matron Mother Shakti stared at her counterpart curiously, with more than a little trepidation. She wasn’t about to admit to any such thing, particularly given House Xorlarrin’s close alliance with House Baenre.

“It is no secret that House Hunzrin feared the creation of the city of Q’Xorlarrin,” the always blunt and brutal Zhindia stated. “City,” she said again, and she spat upon the floor. “It was a servile satellite of House Baenre, of course, created so that House Baenre could take from you the most profitable trade to be found.”

“The point is moot. Q’Xorlarrin is no more,” said Matron Mother Shakti, and she nudged her daughter under the table, warning the volatile Charri against saying something they might both regret.

“But did Matron Mother Baenre lose?” Zhindia Melarn asked slyly.

“She sent the demons forth, and the demons were defeated by the dwarves, so say the reports.”

“And so the dwarves reclaim Gauntlgrym, and fire anew the Great Forge,” Zhindia agreed. “But these particular dwarves are known associates of Jarlaxle and Bregan D’aerthe.”

Despite her great and practiced discipline, Shakti Hunzrin couldn’t help but fidget at the mention of Jarlaxle. Bregan D’aerthe had long been a thorn in the side of ide of House Hunzrin and a threat to Shakti’s plans for trade dominance beyond Menzoberranzan. Bregan D’aerthe’s loyalty to House Baenre could not be doubted.

“Your easiest route to the World Above is no more,” Zhindia said. “Your caravans will not get past the armies of the dwarves. But if Jarlaxle is able to secure an agreement between House Baenre and the new kingdom of Gauntlgrym …”

She let it hang there, tantalizingly.

“The Spider Queen would abandon her,” Shakti said, because she really had no other retort.

“Are you going to tell her that?” Zhindia asked with a laugh.

Shakti stared at her hard. “Among all the Matron Mothers of Menzoberranzan, are you not the one who claims closest communion with the Spider Queen?” she asked very seriously. “Would Lolth accept such a move by Matron Mother Baenre?”

“The same Matron Mother Baenre who instituted a darthiir, a wretched elf, as a matron mother with a seat on the Ruling Council?” Zhindia countered. “Who put Matron Mother Do’Urden ahead of you on the ladder of Menzoberranzan’s hierarchy?”

“Your insults are uncalled for,” Charri Hunzrin remarked.

“No insult,” said Zhindia. “Simple truth, and unpleasant to both of us. Perhaps, though, this abomination Matron Mother Do’Urden is a test, not for Quenthel Baenre but for the rest of us. Do we allow the darthiir to continue as a voice on the Ruling Council?”

“Or do we tear her down?” asked Shakti. “We are back to this, then. Did we not just see this play with the demon assault on House Do’Urden? That failure strengthened Matron Mother Do’Urden’s reputation and strengthened Matron Mother Baenre’s hand.”

“So you are accepting of an agreement between Matron Mother Baenre and Bregan D’aerthe to move goods through the dwarven city?”

“I do not believe that such an agreement exists.”

“Oh, it exists,” Matron Mother Zhindia said confidently. “Jarlaxle’s influence is clear to see, and who would benefit more from such an agreement than that opportunist heretic mercenary and his filthy band of male rogues?”

The leader of House Melarn turned to the side and motioned to a drider guard, who put a hand against a concealed plunger on the wall and pressed. Unseen stones slid and a secret door fell open. To Shakti and Charri’s surprise and fear, an impressive drow female strode out from the darkness. She wore the robes of a high priestess, indeed those of a First Priestess of a House, and her emblem was well known.

Kiriy Xorlarrin, Matron Mother Shakti’s fingers signed to her daughter.

The newcomer moved to the table, summoned a magical disc-a circle of blue light hanging in the air at about waist height-and sat down upon it.

“We were speaking of male rogues,” Matron Mother Zhindia said.

“A redundant description,” Kiriy replied, with no small amount of contempt behind her words.

The Hunzrin matron mother and daughter glanced at each other, somewhat confused. Wasn’t House Xorlarrin known as the House most lenient with, and most deferential to, its men? House Barrison Del’Armgo and House Xorlarrin had long been the two Menzoberranyr Houses known to promote men high into the House hierarchy, but with Barrison Del’Armgo, there had never been any doubt that the highest ranking male noble, usually the weapons master, remained subservient to the lowest of the high priestesses. In House Xorlarrin, such was not always the case.

“You know First Priestess Kiriy Xorlarrin,” Matron Mother Zhindia said, and the guests at her table nodded.

“I am soon to join House Do’Urden,” Kiriy informed them. “My sister, my brother, and many of the male cousins are already there, strengthening the ties between House Do’Urden and Sorcere.”

“And the ties with House Baenre,” Shakti dared to remark.

Kiriy snorted dismissively.

“Saribel, your sister, is presently the First Priestess of House Do’Urden, is she not?” Shakti pressed. “Will you displace her?”

“For a time.”

“You mean to become Matron Mother Do’Urden,” Shakti reasoned.

“And again, I may wear that title for a time, perhaps,” Kiriy replied. “And then I mean to destroy House Do’Urden and replace it with a reformed House Xorlarrin.”

“You plot against your own mother,” Shakti said sourly. She was looking straight at Matron Mother Zhindia as she made the remark, as if Zhindia should be ashamed of herself for even entertaining such a thought. Matricide was not well-received in Menzoberranzan, and particularly not welcomed at that moment, when Shakti sat in conference with her eldest and most powerful daughter seated right beside her.

Of course, Matron Mother Zhindia didn’t have that particular problem.

“Matron Mother Zeerith has traveled too far along the road of heresy,” Matron Mother Zhindia stated. “Too much influence has she given to mere males. This is not the way of Lolth.”

“Her sacrilege rained doom upon Q’Xorlarrin,” Kiriy added. “There was no proper order of things awaiting the demon army in our city, to keep them in line when Matron Mother Baenre sent them to us to defeat the dwarves. It was clear to me from the outset of the dwarven invasion-even before that, when so many of our House were killed in the far-off fields of the Silver Marches-that House Xorlarrin was losing the favor of the Spider Queen.”

“You will betray Matron Mother Zeerith,” Shakti said.

“She will not return to Menzoberranzan in any case!” Kiriy shouted. “I will save House Xorlarrin! We will not become an extension of Bregan D’aerthe, to be used at the whim of Matron Mother Baenre. I will never allow that. Our place is here, with an independent Matron Mother Xorlarrin sitting on the Ruling Council.”

“I have asked you to accept a lot of startling information here,” Matron Mother Zhindia apologized to her Hunzrin guests.

“You have hinted at a daring plan,” Shakti replied. “One that pits us against Matron Mother Baenre and her cadre of powerful allies.”

“Not so!” Zhindia argued. “She is far too engrossed now in matters beyond the fate of House Do’Urden. The demon lords walk the ways of the Underdark, and in no small part because of the foolish actions of her own brother! Before the coming of Demogorgon, Matron Mother Baenre went to great lengths to fortify this phony House she has constructed, and so she expects them to stand on their own. Indeed, they must. Many others-House Barrison Del’Armgo and some of Matron Mother Baenre’s closest allies-are watching with wary eyes. Lolth will decide the fate of House Do’Urden, not the army of House Baenre.”

“And Lolth is surely with us,” Kiriy added.

After a long paused, Shakti replied to Zhindia, “Your claims are extraordinary.”

“Then I will prove them to you.”

Shakti nodded.

“I trust in your confidence in these matters until I can make my case fully to you,” Zhindia said. “And do understand that if I am correct in my suspicions-and I assure you that I am-any betrayal of me to Matron Mother Baenre will also provide her with the excuse she needs to sublimate your House. You came here, after all, willingly and alone in trust, to a known rival of House Do’Urden. And do not doubt that Matron Mother Baenre understands that Hunzrin demons were among the horde of fiends who attacked House Do’Urden.

“Waging war on House Melarn would bring a smile to the face of Matron Mother Quenthel Baenre, indeed,” Zhindia went on. “But how much wider might that smile grow if she has an excuse to eliminate both our families, stripping Matron Mother Mez’Barris Armgo of the only allies she might have in her attempt to keep House Baenre from complete domination?”

Shakti Hunzrin spent a long while staring hard at her counterpart.

Matron Mother Zhindia motioned to her daughter, who went to the side of the room and pulled a blanket aside, revealing a small chest. She hoisted it and carried it back to the gathering, placing it in front of Matron Mother Shakti.

“Open it,” Matron Mother Zhindia bade her. “But take care and do not handle any of the contents.”

With a wary look to her daughter, Shakti carefully pulled back the lid of the chest, revealing a pile of beautiful gemstones set in fabulous pieces of jewelry. Despite the warning, her hand drifted for one piece, a tiara of brilliant rubies.

“Do not,” Matron Mother Zhindia warned.

“What is this?” Shakti asked, and she closed the lid.

“A gift to you,” said Zhindia. “One of faith and continued goodwill between our Houses in this most important battle we wage.”

“Jewelry?”

“Goods for the World Above,” Zhindia explained. “I trust you can find some way to deliver them to the proper … merchants.”

“It is not our normal merchandise,” Shakti said. “We trade food and exotics-items of the Underdark. There is no shortage of gems and jewels on the surface.” She opened the coffer again and glanced in. “No doubt these have great value-they are very beautiful pieces. But these are not my usual wares, and it will be expensive and difficult for me to open proper channels to see them brought to market.”

Zhindia, Kiriy, and Kyrnill exchanged knowing, smug looks, and Shakti and Charri realized that they were apparently missing some inside joke.

“So you do not want the bounty?” Zhindia asked.

“I will take them, with my gratitude, Matron Mother Zhindia,” Shakti replied. “I will deliver them to the World Above and find a place to sell them. I only warn that the profit will be minimal.”

“They are more exquisite than you realize,” Kyrnill Melarn put in.

“Must everything be about coin?” Matron Mother Zhindia said.

Shakti looked at her curiously.

“Surely there are other reasons to ply your trade,” Zhindia added.

Now Shakti was completely at a loss. She looked to her daughter, who could only shrug in confusion.

“You will be doing the work of the Spider Queen,” Zhindia explained. “Those are not mere gemstones set in jewelry, Matron Mother Hunzrin. They are phylacteries, each possessing the spirit of a slain demon.”

Shakti’s eyes went wide and she opened the coffer again and peeked in, just for a moment, then closed it tight and put her hand on top of the lid to keep it closed.

“A nobleman or noblewoman wearing such a brooch, or necklace, or tiara, will come to find her thoughts darkened, her mind drawn to chaos, her soul possessed to demonic intent,” Matron Mother Zhindia said with great relish.

“Do you still think it a minor gift?” Kyrnill put in snidely.

“I will see these to the World Above,” Shakti said at length, her glare lingering on the former Matron Mother of House Kenafin. “For the glory of Lolth. As to the rest, your claims are extraordinary, as I have said. You see the Baenre alliance as fractured, and believe that our path to destroy Do’Urden is clear.”

“And that Lolth is on our side,” Kyrnill reminded her.

Shakti Hunzrin conceded the point with a nod. “It is often hard to discern the true intent of the Spider Queen.” As Zhindia clearly tensed up in response, Shakti pointed at the zealous matron mother and added, “Even for her most devout disciples. Yet I do not doubt that Lady Lolth would approve of our plans, should they come to pass.”

Matron Mother Zhindia relaxed and nodded.

“But as to the rest,” Shakti finished strongly, “bring me proof.” She motioned to her daughter, and the two wasted no time in departing the dungeons of the Melarni fanatics. All the way back to her own compound, Shakti mulled over the lack of choices available to her. The city of Q’Xorlarrin had posed a direct threat to the trade empire she had built, and she had not lamented the fall of Matron Mother Zeerith’s trial city.

House Do’Urden didn’t really matter to her. She didn’t care much about the formal ranking of her House. In fact, she considered her lower position to be an asset as she went about growing her riches and building dependence to her network among the other Houses.

But the ability to trade beyond the borders of the city, to bring exotic goods to the matron mothers and to market their wares in places full of riches, was not something Shakti Hunzrin would surrender without a fight. If the Baenres were truly intent on dominating trade to the surface, that was indeed a direct threat to the standing and purpose of House Hunzrin.

The question then was whether Matron Mother Baenre desired all of it-all of the power, and all of the commerce.

“None can know that you are here,” Matron Mother Baenre said to her guest. “It would cause great upset in a city that is already reeling from the march of the Prince of Demons.”

She stared at Zeerith as she spoke, but the Matron Mother of House Xorlarrin was not looking back at her at all, and though she was nodding, it seemed to Quenthel as if Zeerith had hardly heard a word that she’d said.

Matron Mother Zeerith was distracted by the beautiful young woman sitting at the left end of the small table.

Not distracted, Quenthel silently corrected herself. Enchanted.

The young woman’s hair was smooth and thick, a startling white contrast to her coal-black skin. It curled teasingly between her perfect breasts, which were barely covered by the plunging cut of her soft purple dress, a simple silk affair that clung to her body’s every curve.

It took Quenthel a long while to realize that she too was staring hopelessly at the beautiful young woman.

“Who is this?” Matron Mother Zeerith practically demanded.

“The child of Gromph,” Quenthel replied, and she hoped that putting the now-deposed archmage’s name on Yvonnel would somehow lessen Zeerith’s trance.

Even still, a long while passed before Zeerith was able to turn back to Quenthel. Even then it seemed as if Yvonnel herself had released Zeerith from the trance, as evidenced by a little giggle Yvonnel offered as Zeerith turned away.

“I did not know Gromph had-”

“And Minolin Fey, of House Fey-Branche,” Yvonnel interrupted, an incredible breach of etiquette.

Zeerith’s face screwed up with confusion as she swung back to view the young woman, who was surely near twenty years of age, if not older. Zeerith had known about Minolin’s pregnancy. The visitation of the avatar of Lolth upon House Fey-Branche in the Festival of the Founding was common gossip that had followed House Xorlarrin across the Underdark. Zeerith knew that Minolin Fey was now in House Baenre-she had seen the high priestess while being escorted through the royal chambers to come to this very audience.

“The child of Gromph and Minolin Fey?” Zeerith asked Quenthel.

“Yes,” Yvonnel answered, again out of turn, and this time interrupting the matron mother as Quenthel began to answer.

“She is an impetuous sort,” Quenthel said dryly, and cast a glance at the young woman.

“And a distracting one,” Quenthel added when she saw that Zeerith’s eyes were once again held by the young woman.

“Yes,” Zeerith said absently.

“May I go, Matron Mother?” Yvonnel asked.

“Please do,” Quenthel replied, trying to sound sweet.

Yvonnel rose and Zeerith’s eyes rose with her. Much of her leg slipped free from the high slit in her simple but elegant gown, and Zeerith gave a little gasp as she spun away and moved to the room’s door.

She was barefoot, Quenthel and Zeerith both noted then, and somehow that seemed even more fitting for this one, like a promise of something unbridled and so very pleasing.

The door closed, but it took Zeerith a while to compose herself and look back at her host.

“She is quite … lovely,” Matron Mother Zeerith said, and Quenthel understood well that her counterpart had to pause there to search for the right word, because “lovely” certainly didn’t seem sufficient.

“Do you plan to tell them I perished in the fight?” Zeerith asked, and she shook her head and seemed removed from the enchantment of Yvonnel then, and apparently had forgotten all around the surprising revelation of that one’s parentage.

Was Yvonnel’s appearance that distracting, Quenthel wondered, or had the young witch cast a spell to remove thought from Zeerith’s mind?

“I do not believe that to be our best course, if I may offer advice, Matron Mother,” Zeerith rambled on.

Was Yvonnel powerful enough to do that so casually? To an accomplished matron mother of a powerful House?

Yes, she was, Quenthel realized with a sigh.

“If you have other designs …” Zeerith offered, somewhat sheepishly.

“No, no, my mind was other-where. So much has happened and so much is yet to come. You are correct, my friend, of course. Matron Mother Zeerith is not to be rubbed from the ranks of Menzoberranzan-hardly that! You will circle and reside outside the city and together we will find opportunity.”

“While my children ascend,” Zeerith added with her eyes sparkling.

“High Priestess Kiriy is in House Do’Urden?”

Zeerith nodded, then asked, “First Priestess?”

“Saribel is First Priestess,” Quenthel corrected her, somewhat sternly. “And that is something Kiriy must understand and accept.”

“Yes, Matron Mother,” Zeerith said and respectfully lowered her eyes. It was no surprise. Though Kiriy was far more accomplished than Saribel, and much older, indeed the eldest daughter of the House, Saribel had something that Kiriy did not: a Baenre husband.

“When time for ascent comes, who will it be?” Zeerith asked.

“That is a discussion for another day,” Quenthel replied. “I know that you favor Kiriy.”

“Saribel is a bit of a dullard, I must admit,” said Zeerith. “It pains me to say that, but would that Lolth had accepted her as my sacrifice instead of Parabrak, my third-born son.”

“Pray to Lolth to forgive your words,” Quenthel said half-jokingly-but only half.

“I wish I could join you at the Ruling Council,” Zeerith said. “If only to see the face of the witch Mez’Barris when she is formally told that Tsabrak Xorlarrin will assume the mantle of Archmage of Menzoberranzan.”

“You will witness the ceremony,” Quenthel promised and Matron Mother Zeerith swelled with pride.

“They are such petty creatures,” Yvonnel remarked to Minolin Fey in the anteroom, where the young upstart had enchanted a scrying pool so that she could look in on the conversation in the Baenre audience chamber. “They puff and preen over the most unremarkable and fleeting things.”

Yvonnel gave a sigh and turned to her mother, who stood staring.

“How did you do that?” Minolin Fey asked. “How do you do that?”

“What?”

“All the time,” the woman went on. “In there, with Matron Mother Zeerith. With all you see-or all who see you. Man and woman alike, taken aback, thrown from their guard, with a simple glimpse upon you.”

“Why Mother, do you not think me beautiful?” Yvonnel coyly asked.

Minolin Fey could only shake her head and reply, her voice barely a whisper, “Many drow are beautiful.” She kept shaking her head. She knew there had to be more to it than that.

“Your mother, Matron Mother Byrtyn,” Yvonnel began, “she is a painter, yes? I have heard that some of her portraits hang in this very house.”

“She is quite talented, yes.”

“Get her, then. I wish to pose for her.”

“I do not know that she-”

“She will,” Yvonnel said. “Tell her the matron mother insists upon it, and that she will be well rewarded.”

Minolin Fey seemed off-balance then. Matron Mother Byrtyn had not even seen this child yet, her granddaughter, who should be no more than a toddler.

“Matron Mother Byrtyn was told of me by the avatar of Lolth in the parlor of her own House,” Yvonnel reminded Minolin Fey. “Tell her that she will come to House Baenre the day after tomorrow, after Tsabrak is named as Archmage of Menzoberranzan, and she will begin her work. And she will return every day thereafter until it is completed.”

Minolin Fey stared blankly.

“I am not asking you,” Yvonnel warned. She turned back to the scrying pool, then sighed with disgust and cleared the image from the water with a wave of her hand.

“So boring and petty,” she said as she pushed past Minolin Fey and skipped to the door at the far end of the room.

“You speak of the Matron Mother of Menzoberranzan,” Minolin Fey reminded her.

“Yes,” Yvonnel answered. “And why?”

She shrugged, winked, and exited, leaving Minolin Fey to stand there dumbfounded with that simple yet devastating question hanging over her. She glanced back at the unremarkable water in the bowl. Minolin Fey couldn’t begin to cast a clairvoyance dweomer powerful enough to get past Quenthel Baenre’s wards, as Yvonnel had so easily done. She considered the conversation in the other room. The incessant plotting and conniving, the desperate pursuit of a goal that would often be nothing more than the platform from which to pursue another goal.

“Why?” she whispered through her own frown.

From the balcony of House Do’Urden, the Xorlarrin sisters watched the ceremony across the way. Ravel and Jaemas were there, on the grounds of Sorcere, as was Tiago, whose presence had been commanded by the matron mother.

“It was always Matron Mother Zeerith’s dream, of course,” Saribel said when a great burst of fireworks exploded up by the ceiling, shooting from the alcove of Tier Breche, the raised region that held the three Houses of the drow academy. “To see a Xorlarrin rightfully in place as the Archmage of Menzoberranzan …”

“Better in these times than not at all, I suppose,” said a less-than-enthusiastic Kiriy.

“Better regardless,” Saribel corrected. “Why would a Xorlarrin noblewoman wear such a frown on this day?”

“Dear sister, shut up.”

Saribel sputtered for a moment before declaring, “I am the First Priestess of House Do’Urden.”

Kiriy turned slowly to regard her and looked her up and down. If she was impressed at all, she surely didn’t show it. “House Do’Urden …” she whispered quietly and dismissively.

“It was a terrible fight?” Saribel probed, trying to find the root of her sister’s anger.

Kiriy looked at her with puzzlement.

“In Q’Xorlarrin,” Saribel clarified.

“Hardly a fight,” the older sister replied. She looked back to the distant ceremony. “More like a whimper and a retreat.”

“Do you think Matron Mother Zeerith erred in surrendering the-”

“I think that if all the Xorlarrin nobles were in Q’Xorlarrin, as they should have been, and if Menzoberranzan had offered proper support instead of sending an army of demon beasts, too busy chewing the flesh of each other to understand our enemy, then you and I would not be having this conversation.”

The blunt words and determined tone set Saribel back on her heels.

“So now here we are,” Kiriy went on, “anointed nobles of the wicked joke that is named House Do’Urden.”

“Whose matron mother sits on the Ruling Council,” Saribel reminded her, and Kiriy snorted.

“Matron Mother Darthiir’s reign will be short,” Saribel added.

“Oh indeed,” said Kiriy. She backed away a step and looked Saribel up and down, smiling as if she knew something her sister did not. “And you are First Priestess Saribel, whose tenure will be long, if you are wise.”

Saribel felt very small suddenly, and very vulnerable. Her thoughts went back to her childhood, when Kiriy used to discipline her mightily and mercilessly and often-so often! Under Kiriy’s stern guidance even the slightest infraction of etiquette would get the child Saribel beaten to unconsciousness, or bitten by a snake-headed scourge.

Just looking at Kiriy then made Saribel’s blood burn with the memories of that awful poison, made her throat dry at the feeling of the fiery vomit burning all the way up her throat.

“Whose tenure,” Kiriy had said, and not “whose reign.”

Saribel’s thoughts whirled in a hundred different directions. She wanted to speak with Matron Mother Zeerith, but she knew Zeerith would be secretly out of the city that same day and might not return for years, or decades even.

She thought she should go to the matron mother, but realized that Quenthel Baenre would more likely murder her than aid her.

Tiago might be the answer, she realized, and that thought troubled her more than any other. Her only path to the throne of House Do’Urden would be beside Tiago, and he, not she, would have to forge the trail. Saribel hated that thought, hated the notion that Tiago would hold sway over her even if she realized her highest ambition and became Matron Mother Do’Urden.

How many years would she have to suffer him beside her?

A loud boom shook the balcony, and the whole of the city, the final burst of celebratory fireworks for the appointment of Archmage Tsabrak Xorlarrin.

Saribel again glanced at Kiriy, whose eyes gleamed as she fixed them upon the distant ceremony. Saribel was not close to her brother Tsabrak in any way. He was older, the eldest of the Xorlarrin children, but only a few years senior to Kiriy. The two of them had been more parent than sibling to Saribel and Ravel, with Berellip in the middle, always pitting the older Xorlarrin children against the younger two, particularly against Saribel.

It occurred to Saribel only then that with Tsabrak’s ascension and Matron Mother Zeerith’s expected long absence, Kiriy had just gained a mighty ally.

Perhaps, Saribel thought, she would be wise not to covet the untimely demise of Matron Mother Darthiir Do’Urden.