Realms of the Underdark

Chapter Thirteen: The Favor of Lloth

Matron Malice strode down the corridor toward the sounds of commotion, furious someone had dared disturb her celebration. Curious-or hoping to see blood-much of the feasting party followed in her wake, including, to her chagrin, Matron Baenre. Malice could only hope whatever she found would not embarrass her in front of the powerful matron of Menzoberranzan's First House.

Her hopes were dashed when she rounded a corner and took in the scene before her. A mixture of emotions crashed through Malice: astonishment, rage, and an inexplicable feeling of… exultation.

The three jade spiders had him cornered. One of his swords had been knocked from his hand, and the other was broken a foot from the hilt. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. One jade spider he could have handled with ease, two with difficulty. But even for him, three was too much. They closed in for the kill.

"Is that not your weapons master, Matron Malice?" a voice croaked in her ear. Matron Baenre.

Malice shook her head in confusion. "No… yes. I mean… he was, but I…"

"Make up your mind, Sister," Baenre crooned in a mocking voice.

Anger cleared Malice's clouded mind. She would not be made a fool in her own house. Not by her intractable weapons master. Not even by Matron Baenre herself. She raised her voice in command. "Stop!"

At once the jade spiders heeded her order. The ensorcelled creatures retreated, then folded themselves up, inanimate stone once more. Zaknafein leaned against the wall, chest heaving, clutching a small wound in his side. Briza's jaw dropped at the sight of the condemned weapons master, but for once she remembered to keep silent, as did the other members of the household. All held their breath as Malice approached him.

"How?" Her voice was flint: cool, hard, with a spark to its edge. "How did you survive the ceremony of transformation in the Cavern of the Lost?"

A roguish gleam touched Zaknafein's eyes. He bared his bloody teeth in a sardonic grin. "What can I say? Lloth's favor shone upon me."

It was a lie. They both knew it. But Malice did not dare probe deeper. He would only defy her, and she did not wish to reveal her lack of control over him in front of Matron Baenre. No one should have to suffer such a willful male. Whatever feelings for Zaknafein still burned in her heart, they were eclipsed at that moment by the dark blot of her outrage.

"If you are so favored by Lloth, you will be glad if I send you to her side in the Abyss!" Malice cried. She plucked a spider-shaped dagger from between her breasts and held it aloft.

To her astonishment, Zak did not resist. "As you wish, Matron Mother." He bowed his head before her, presenting her with his bare neck.

Malice hesitated, regarding the weapons master in suspicion. What was Zaknafein up to?

"It is your right to take my life," Zak went on. "Of course, I do happen to know where the Dagger of Menzoberra is at this very moment."

Malice drew in a hissing breath. So that was his game. Well, she would not be taken in by his trickery. "Prove it," she snapped. "Or die."

"Very well."

Zak stood and opened a side door. All gasped as a small form stumbled out, lavender eyes vague and distant.

"Drizzt?" Malice snarled at this increasingly bizarre charade. "What does the boy have to do with this?"

Zak placed a hand on the young drow's shoulder. "Show them, Drizzt. Show them the Dagger."

The boy blinked, his violet gaze coming into focus. A shiver passed through him. "I can't, Master Zaknafein. I don't have it anymore."

"What?" Zak cried. A look of horror racked his face. He gripped the boy's shoulders in desperation. "But what happened to it?"

Drizzt frowned, as if finding it difficult to recall just what had occurred. "It was a lady. In the antechamber. She took the Dagger from me."

Zak gave the boy a rough shake. "Who? Who was it who took it from you? One of your sisters?"

Drizzt winced in pain, shaking his head. "No. No, I don't know who she was. I've never seen her before. But now she's gone."

Zak released the boy, shoulders slumping in defeat. Malice pressed the spider-shaped blade against the weapons master's neck. "You have lost, Zaknafein," she spat. "Whatever subterfuge you arranged to trick me, it has failed. You escaped your doom once. You will not do so again."

"Wait a moment, Matron Malice. The spider is swift in dispatching its prey, but it is never hasty."

Malice hesitated, holding the knife against the taut skin of Zaknafein's throat. She watched in surprise as, with stiff movements, Matron Baenre approached the boy Drizzt. The ancient drow reached out a gnarled hand, cupping his chin, raising his strange lavender gaze to hers.

"Tell me more of this lady to whom you spoke, boy." Drizzt squirmed under the crone's glare but could not escape her pincerlike grip. He gasped the words. "I already said, Matron Baenre, I don't know who she was."

"Oh? Then why did you give her the Dagger?" Drizzt bit his lip, as if puzzled himself. "She… she told me that I should give her the Dagger, that Matron Mother Malice would be glad if I did. Somehow, when she said it, it all made sense."

Malice could stand it no longer. All her carefully laid plans had been cast into ruin. These males had made an utter mockery of her. House Do'Urden would not gain station this day, but lose it. She would never gain a seat on Menzoberranzan's ruling council now. "Liar!" she shrieked, moving away from Zak to turn the knife on the boy.

"No, Matron Malice, the child does not lie," Baenre rasped in annoyance. "See? The truth is written across his face." She waved a stunned Malice back, and returned her piercing gaze to Drizzt. "Tell me, boy. What did this lady look like?"

A look of awe crossed Drizzt's face. "She was beautiful, the most beautiful lady I've ever seen. Only her dress. It was… it was made of spiders."

At this, a gasp of shock ran through the gathered drow. Matron Baenre nodded, as if this confirmed some suspicion.

Drizzt blinked, his expression of wonder gone, replaced by trepidation. "Did I do something wrong, Matron Baenre?"

The crone cackled. "No, child. Do not fear. You did very well." She released him from her grip. "Now leave us, boy. We have important matters to discuss. Matters too great for small ears."

Drizzt gave a relieved nod, then scampered down the corridor, though not before flashing an impertinent grin back at Matron Baenre.

When he was gone, Malice shook her head, her anger replaced by confusion. "I don't understand."

"Nor do I," echoed Zak, approaching.

"So I see," Matron Baenre replied in a dry voice. "Let me be more clear." At this the wizened drow raised her bony arms, addressing the feasting party. "Rejoice, dark elves!" she cried in a high voice. "Let all in the city know that our mistress Lloth, Dark Queen of Spiders, Mother of the Drow, has appeared this day in House Do'Urden!"

"All hail Lloth!" the gathered dark elves echoed as they sank to their knees.

At last Malice understood. The lady in the dress of spiders… it could be none other. The last of Malice's rage vanished, replaced by sudden elation. Lloth had appeared in her house on the Festival! And Matron Baenre had been here to witness it. It was everything she had desired-everything she had schemed for. She turned toward Baenre, her eyes glowing.

The ancient drow woman nodded. "Yes, Matron Malice, you have scored a great victory this day." Her voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "But remember, the favor of Lloth is a two-edged sword. The Spider Queen will be watching you more closely now."

In her joy, Malice paid little heed to the crone's admonition. "House Do'Urden, Eighth House of Menzoberranzan," she murmured the words to herself as her daughters gathered around her. Yes, she liked the sound of that.

Briza chewed her lip with a glum expression. "It isn't fair," she sulked. "Drizzt is only a child, and a male child at that. Why didn't Lloth appear to me?"

"Shut up, you dolt," Malice snapped, but her annoyance was only half-hearted. Even Briza could not dampen her satisfaction that day, or for many days to come.