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,  one wing of her
 
piwafwi
 
tossed back to

facilitate the action of her weapon arm, Waerva advanced in the direction fromwhich the rock had com

e. Weaving her  way through the stalagmites, she reached

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the cavern wall without so much as glimpsing her attacker. She caught a whiff of

a familiar reptilian musk, though, and she knew.

relatively easy for themKobolds. The horned, scaly undercreatures were sm to hide amid the calcite bum   all enough that it was Sh                     ps and spikes.

e  turned  once  more,  and  despite  herself,  gave  a  start.  Evidently  the  kobolds

lacked the patience to play their skulking  game  for very long, because they weredone hiding. While her back was turned, th  d

formed a ragged C-shaped line to pen her against tey'  crept out into the open and there he wall.

fact awayThe brutes were Menzoberranyr thralls. House brands and whip scars gave that . Indeed, a couple still wore broken shackles. Waerva plainly wasn't theonly one who'd fled the city

.

She glared at the kobolds and said, "I'm  a Baenre. You know what that means. Make way

,  or I'll strike you dead."The undercreatures stared back at her  for a m

oment, then lowered their eyes.

The line broke in the middle, ma

Sneering, head held high, Waerva started for the opening. For a mking an exit.         oment, all was silent, then the reptiles laughed, screeched, and rushed her

.

Bellowing a battle cry,  she swung her mace, and every stroke smashed the life from  a thrall. But for every one she killed, there were dozens m

ore hacking and

beating at her legs.Her knee screamed with pain, and she  fell. The kobolds swarm

ed over her and

pounded her until she just couldn't struggle any more.With som

e  difficulty, they divested her  of her armor and clothing, and went to

work on her.  Amazingly for such a bestial race, they seemed to understand

anatomy as thoroughly as her dear Tluth, but their ministrations were nothin

like m                                gassage.

Faeryl had learned to court unconsciousness. It brought surcease from  the lingering pains of past tortures. Unfortunately, it couldn't avert new ones. When

Jeggred  found her so, he  simply waved a  bottle  of pungent smelling  saltsbeneath her nose until it jolted her awake.She could hear him

coming. So could the jailers, who scurried to the back ofthe dungeon to give him  privacy. Shivering, she struggled to compose  herself.Perhaps she could deny him  the satisfaction of a scream—at least for a while—or even provoke him  into killing her.  That would be wonderful.The draegloth appeared in the doorway

,  stooping to pass through. Despiteherself, Faeryl flinched, then saw he was not alone. Dainty little Triel accompanied him.  So did her harsh-featured brother,  clad as usual in the Robesof the Archma

"My . . . salutations, Matron," the Zauvirr croaked.ge."Hush," said Gromph, "and all will be  well." He looked up at the glowerinhalf-demon. "Free her                          g

Jeggred strode to Faeryl. This tim,  and be gentle about it."e, she masupported her weight with his smaller  hands while cutting naged not to cringe. The draegloth her bonds with the claws of the larger ones, then scooped her up in his arms. She passed out.

Next came a blur of hours or days, during which she would wake for a few

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m

where servants salved and bandaged her wounds and sometimes suddled seconds, then lapse into unconsciousness again. She lay on a soft divan, into her mouth. Priestesses read scrolls of healing, and G  pooned broth

romph appeared

periodically to cast his own spells over her.  She noticed Mother's Kiss lying  on  alittle table beside her

trembling arm and touched it.,  and when she felt strong enough, stretched out her

her limbs. The servants helped her don new raiment. They said it was Finally she opened her eyes to find her thoughts clear and vitality tingling in for  a meeting with T

riel.

Faeryl considered taking her war hammer along, then thought better of it. Ifher rehabilitation was an elaborate prank, if the Baenre was summ

oning her to

further torment, the weapon wouldn't save her.Her legs still the least bit unsteady

,  she followed a male through the endlesscorridors of the Great Mound. Eventually he opened the door to a s

mall but

lavishly decorated room.T

riel sat at the table in the center of the space, with two bodyguards

standing against the wall behind her.  Faeryl inferred that this was a chamber thematron used when she wished to palaver away from the formal t

rappings of

her court.

The Baenre rose and took her prisoner's hands."My child," T

riel said, "I rejoice to  see you. Some folk said you wouldn't

recover,  but I never doubted it. I knew you were strong, a true drow princess

favored of Lolth."

T"Thank you, Matron," said Faeryl, thoroughly perplexed.riel conducted her a chair.

"You'll be glad to know we caught them," the matron said.

"Them?"

for dead in that place where my servant V"The brigands who waylaid you and  murdered your followers, who left you executions myself."            alas found you. I supervised the

Faeryl was beginning to comprehend her situation. For some reason, Triel had for

given her her disobedience.  The Zarank restored, but there was a catch. Henceforth, she would huvirr could go free, her honor and

ave to endorse

the fiction that Triel was in no way responsible for any of her misfortunes. For

Queen after all, the sovereign of Menzoberranzan was a perfherself  had  exalted  above  all  others.  H   ect being, whom the Spider ow,  then,  could  she  possibly  makea mistake? It rankled a little, but Faeryl was m

ore than willing to embrace the

lie to avoid a return to the dungeon."Thank you, Matron," she said. "Thank you  with all m

y  heart." Triel waved her hand, and a servant brought wine. "Do you still want to go home?" the

Baenre asked.

Pharaun had been summoned to a good many audiences in the course of his checkered career, and it had been his experience that no matter how urgent theoccasion, one generally wound up parked in  an antechamber for a while. Matron Baenre's  waiting area was considerably more  lavish than most, and in ordinary

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circumstances, he would have amused himself by passing esthetic judgment on

the decor.  Instead he had to address another matter, for when he arrived, Ryld was

sitting on a chair in the corner, halfhidden behind a marble statue.The carving depicted a beautiful fem

ale doing something unpleasant to a  deep

gnomThe Mizzryme, for the greater glory of the Dread Queen of Spiders, one assumed. hadn't spoken to his friend since the slaughter of the reneg

ades.

He supposed the time had come. But first he  paid his respects to Quenthel, who,

much to her annoyance, was being kept  waiting as well. The ma

to a stern-faced drow m                  ge then bowed ale, looking

outdoorsman'            ill at ease and out of place in rough s  clothes and ugly trinkets. Pharaun didn't know him.

"Valas Hune," the warrior said, "of Bregan D'aerthe."

Pharaun introduced himself, then strolled toward the Master of MeleeMagthere."Ryld!" the wizard said. "Good afternoon! Have you any idea why the Council

summoned us?"

The burly swordsma"To shower us with honors, one assumn rose and said, "No."

es. How are you?"

"Alive."

"I rejoice to hear it. I was concerned because I could tell that warrior's  trance strained even your constitution."

For a moment, the two masters regarded one another in silence.

happened.""My friend," Pharaun said, having lowered his voice. "I truly regret what "What you did was tactically sound," said  R

yld. "It was what any sensible drow would have done. 1 hold no grudge."

The wizard looked into weapons master'stime, he couldn't read him          eyes and realized that for the first

.

Perhaps Ryld meant what he was saying, lulling his betrayer'           but it was just as likely he was lying,

s  suspicions to facilitate some  eventual revenge. Thus,  while

Pharaun might continue to observe the forms of their long friendship, he could

never trust his fellow ma

For a m       ster again.oment he felt a pang of loss, but  he quashed the sensation. Friendship

and trust were for lesser races. They weakened a dark elf, and he was better off without them

.

Pharaun gave Ryld an afthousand times before.   fectionate clap on the shoulder,  just as he had a

When the tall doors opened, all eight Matrons of the Council sat enthroned and illuminated on an eight-tiered pyramid of a  dais, with Trthan the others, and a span of radiant           iel of course set higher mastalked in proudly

,  ahead of Pharaun and the other mrble webbing arching overhead. Quenthel a

Mistress of Arach-Tinilith and a B          les, and why not? She was aenre.

Truth to tell, a miniscule part of her,  a part she loathed and repudiated, hadn't wanted to come in, because her unknown enemy was very likely in the roomThe matriarchs weren't the only folk in th              bol of the goddess's favor and a source of practical protection, Jeggred loome vicinity of the platform. A symed behind