Resurrection (7 page)

Quenthel scoffed, eyeing him with contempt. The serpents of her whip lazily flicked their tongues at him.

"Master Mizzrym," Quenthel said. "You understand as little as most males. Faithful worship in life is not a guarantee of safety in death. This whole plane is a test for Lolth's dead. Surely even you can see that?"

Danifae looked at Quenthel and said, "Then does that not make this creature a servant of Lolth after all, Mistress Quenthel?"

Silence fell. Quenthel seemed dumbfounded by the question.

Before the high priestess could reply, Danifae looked to Pharaun and said, "Lolth winnows the weak always, even among her dead. If a soul is weak or stupid, it is annihilated."

Pharaun shrugged and said, "How pleasing for her."

Quenthel whirled on him. "Pleasing indeed, wizard. Are you concerned for the safety of your own hide?"

At that, Jeggred smirked.

Pharaun almost laughed at the absurdity of the question. He was
always
concerned for his own hide.

Instead of answering Quenthel directly, he said, "One might think the Spider Queen would make an exception to her tests for the
Yor'thae
and her escort, at least."

"Exactly the contrary," Danifae said and tucked her hair behind her ears.

She held her hand before her face and watched a small red arachnid with overlarge mandibles crawl along her fingers. She kneeled and let it scurry safely onto a rock; only then did Pharaun see the pinprick of blood on her hand from where the spider had bitten her. She had not even winced.

Danifae rose and said, "Lolth subjects herself to the same laws to which she subjects her servants, mage." She eyed Quenthel with a sly smile. "Only the strong or the intelligent will survive. Only one who is both can be her
Yor'thae."

Quenthel answered the former battle-captive's stare with an icy glance.

Returning her gaze to Pharaun, Danifae continued, "Were Lolth to select an unworthy priestess as her
Yor'thae,
no doubt something unfortunate would happen to the failed candidate. And her escort."

Quenthel's whip was in her hand, the serpents fully awake.

"It is well that she will not choose wrongly then," Quenthel said.

The serpents of Quenthel's scourge rose up, and five sets of small red eyes fixed Danifae with a hateful glare. Quenthel cocked her head and nodded, as though the whips had spoken to her.

"Has she not yet chosen, then?" Danifae asked, all innocence.

Quenthel's eyes flashed, perhaps in anger at herself for such a poor choice of words. She walked toward Danifae and stomped on the red arachnid that Danifae had just released onto the rocks.

Danifae's eyes flashed surprise, and she took a backward step. Even Jeggred seemed aghast.

"To kill that cursed creature is no crime," Danifae blurted, indicating the twisted form on the ground, "but to kill a spider is blasphemy."

Quenthel scoffed, ground her boot against the stone, and said, "That was no spider. It only appeared to be one. That is how it survived. For a time, at least." She eyed Danifae with meaning and said, "Killing those things that pretend they are more than they are is consistent with Lolth's will."

Danifae's mouth tightened as she took the sense of Quenthel's insult. Without a word, she snapped up the hood of her cloak, turned, and walked away. Jeggred glared at Quenthel and stalked after Danifae.

Quenthel smiled at their backs and Pharaun could not help but wonder why she left Danifae alive-there would be no consequences for her murder. Danifae did not belong to any of the Houses of Menzoberranzan, and Lolth reveled in internecine slaughter between her priestesses.

"Come," Quenthel said to him. "More obstacles await us before we reach the mountains."

And in those words, Pharaun heard Quenthel's explanation.

If indeed the whole of Lolth's plane was a test, as both priestesses had averred, then likely more challenges awaited, challenges that might require allies to overcome, even for Lolth's
Yor'thae.
Quenthel did not kill Danifae for the simple reason that she might need her later.

He hurried after the Mistress. As he walked past where Quenthel had been standing, he caught sight of a small red arachnid that looked very similar to that which Quenthel had squashed.

Had she only pretended to squash it?

He could not be certain, but her words to Danifae sounded in his head:
Killing things that pretend they are more than they are is consistent with Lolth's will.

Who is pretending? he wondered.

He pushed the question from his mind and followed after.

While Larikal and Geremis led the search for the lichdrow's phylactery, Yasraena decided that she would attempt to buy her House peace, or failing that, time.

She sat on the stone throne of her reception hall-a locale that Triel Baenre could easily pinpoint with a spell-and hoped that the Matron Mother of the First House would respond.

She gathered her thoughts, held her holy symbol in hand, and spoke the words to a sending. The spell would allow her to speak and send to Triel Baenre a statement of not more than twenty-five words. Defensive wards had no effect on a sending, mostly because the spell did nothing other than transmit the speech of the caster. It could carry no spells or words of power.

When she finished the casting, she spoke Triel's name to denote the recipient and recited her message.

"Matron Mother Baenre, Matron Mother Agrach Dyrr wishes to discuss situation. I am in Dyrr reception hall. Scrying wards are lowered. Do same. Mutual clairaudience."

With that, Yasraena spoke the triggering word to lower the anti-scrying ward in the reception hall, and contacted Anival telepathically through the magical amulet at her breast.

Matron Mother?
Anival answered.

Send one of the House wizards to my throne room, one skilled in divinations. Now.

Yes, Matron Mother,
Anival answered, and the connection went silent.

While Yasraena waited from the House wizard to attend her, she cradled her holy symbol in her hand and recited the words to a minor spell that allowed her to see scrying effects. If and when Triel's House wizard placed a clairaudience sensor in Yasraena's throne room, Yasraena would know.

In less than a fifty-count, one of the House wizards, Ooraen, a recent graduate of Sorcere, entered through the far archway of the reception hall. He made obeisance and hurried down the aisle to the throne.

"How may I serve you, Matron Mother?"

"You know how to cast a clairaudience divination, I presume?" she asked.

The wizard nodded.

"For the time, stand beside my throne and be silent. When I command it, you will cast the spell at the location I designate and leave me."

The male bowed and stepped beside the throne.

Yasraena drummed her fingers along the haft of her tentacle rod and waited. And waited. Nearly an hour passed, and she grew increasingly impatient.

A small magical sensor materialized in the throne room, a fist-sized, red globe that would have been invisible but for Yasraena's augmented eyes.

"I see it, Matron Mother Baenre," Yasraena said to the sensor.

At the mention of Triel's title, Ooraen gave a visible start. Yasraena turned to him and said, "Cast your clairaudience spell in the reception hall of
House Baenre."

Yasraena knew that Ooraen had never seen the inside of House Baenre but that did not matter. An adequate verbal description of the desired location would serve.

After only a moment's hesitation, Ooraen removed a tiny metal horn from his cloak, held it to his ear, and recited the words to his spell. When he completed the divination, Yasraena heard Triel's voice through the sensor: "Greetings, Yasraena."

That Triel had called her by her given name rather than her title was an intentional slight, but Yasraena gulped down her anger. She waved Ooraen from the chamber, and the wizard fled down the aisle.

"Greetings, Matron Mother Baenre," Yasraena replied.

"How fares House Agrach Dyrr?" Triel asked, and Yasraena heard the sarcastic smile in the voice.

"Well," Yasraena answered, defiant. "House Agrach Dyrr fares well."

Triel's laughter carried through the sensor.

Yasraena ignored it and said, "Matron Mother, I sought this communication so we might discuss a settlement."

"Indeed?" Triel answered.

"Indeed," Yasraena replied and wasted no further time with conversational niceties. "House Agrach Dyrr's alliance with the forces besieging Menzoberranzan was undertaken in secret by the lichdrow. By the time I learned of it, the plot already was in motion. Since then, I have endeavored to quietly undermine the lichdrow's plots at every turn. Now that his body is destroyed-"

"Now that your ambition has proven far too large for your capabilities," Triel interrupted, "you wish to sue for peace. Is that not so, Yasraena?"

Yasraena could not keep anger from her own voice. "You mistake me, Matron Mother Baenre. I-"

"No," Triel interjected. "You mistake
me.
You seek to save your House by blaming your own failings on the lichdrow. Even if what you said was true, it simply demonstrates your own incompetence to rule."

Yasraena gripped the tentacle rod so tightly in her hand that her fingers ached. Anger burned in her, and she almost exploded at Triel. Almost.

Instead, she calmed herself and answered. "Perhaps you speak some truth," she said, slightly emphasizing the word 'some.' "Which is why I wish to make you an offer."

Silence. Then, "Speak it."

"House Agrach Dyrr is made a vassal House to House Baenre for five hundred years, the arrangement to be ratified by the Ruling Council. My House will be removed from the Council-" temporarily, Yasraena added to herself-"and in the meanwhile will be under Baenre rule and protection during that half-millennium period. I and it will be at your disposal, Matron Mother."

Yasraena knew the offer to be a bold one. It had been long since any of the city's Houses had been made a formal vassal to another. But it was not unheard of, and she had few other options.

A long silence followed, during which Yasraena held her breath. No doubt Triel was mulling the possibilities.

At last, Triel said, "Your offer has some small potential, Yasraena."

Yasraena exhaled.

Triel continued, "To show me your sincerity, you will destroy the lichdrow's phylactery."

Yasraena had expected nothing less. "Of course, Matron Mother. I am in the process of locating it but the siege makes it difficult. As does what I presume to be the inevitable assay of the Archmage. Temporarily halt the siege and restrain your brother. When I have the phylactery, I will contact you again and provide evidence of its destruction."

Triel laughed. "Do not be foolish, Yasraena," she said. "You will demonstrate your worthiness to be a vassal House to House Baenre by finding and destroying the phylactery even while House Agrach Dyrr is under siege by the Xorlarrin. And if the Archmage decides to try your defenses, then you will abide that too. Or you will not. And if not, then destruction is what your House warrants."

Yasraena bit back the angry words that flew to her lips. She had little choice but to accept.

"Your terms are reasonable," she said through gritted teeth.

"I'm pleased you find them so," Triel answered. "Do not contact me again, Yasraena, unless it is to provide evidence of the lichdrow's destruction."

With that, the connection went quiet. A heartbeat later, the sensor in Yasraena's reception hall dematerialized.

Yasraena sat in her throne and thought, her mind racing. She had made her play but was not sure how it would unfold. If she did in fact locate the phylactery, she was undecided whether she would honor the terms of the deal or instead safeguard it until the lichdrow could reincorporate. A part of her very much desired the permanent destruction of the meddling undead wizard, but the pragmatist in her knew that she weakened her House, if not her own personal position within it, by destroying the lichdrow. But to throw herself on the mercy of House Baenre…

Yasraena shook her head. She had no decision to make if her House fell to the Xorlarrin or Gromph Baenre found the phylactery before her. She rose and went searching the halls for Larikal.

Silence reigned for the next several leagues of travel as Pharaun and his cohorts picked their way through the towers of stone and the blasted ground. The entire plane, the very air, felt restive and stretched, as though about to explode.

Over the hours, the wind grew steadily more forceful, with intermittent gusts so strong that Pharaun had to lean forward to avoid being blown off his feet. The gusts howled between the towers of stone, set the songspider webs to screeching, and stirred up a blizzard of spiders, dirt, webs, and loose scree. Jeggred protected Danifae from the living hail with his hulking body. Pharaun shielded himself with his magical
piwafwi.
Quenthel merely smiled into the storm and held her arms outstretched to provide a haven for any spiders that blew onto her. After a time, spiders teemed in her hair and on her
piwafwi.