let us be done with it!"
Zak nearly snickered at Malice's choice of words.
"Matron Malice Do'Urden” came a magical voice from the
disk, "Matron Baenre offers her greetings. Tho long has it
been since last you two have sat in audience”
"Never” Malice signaled to Zak. "Then take me to House
Baenre!" Malice demanded. "I do not wish to waste my time
conversing with a magical mouth!" Apparently, Matron
Baenre had anticipated Malice's impatience, for without an.
other word, the disk floated back out of the Do'Urden com.
pound.
Zak shut the gate as it left, then quickly signaled his sok
diers into motion. Malice did not want any open company,
but the Do'Urden spy network would covertly track every
movement of the Baenre sled, to the very gates of the ruling
house's grand compound.
Malice's guess about an escort was correct. As soon as the
disk swept down from the pathway to the Do'Urden com-
pound, twenty soldiers of House Baenre, all female, moved
out from concealment along the sides of the boulevard.
They formed a defensive diamond around the guest matron
mother. The guard at each point of the formation wore
black robes emblazoned on the back with Ii large purple-
and-red spider design-the robes of a high priestess.
"Baenre's own daughters” Malice mused, for only the
daughters of a noble could attain such a rank. How careful
the First Matron Mother had been to ensure Malice's safety
on the trip!
Slaves and drow commoners tripped over themselves in a
frantic effort to get far out of the way of the approaching
entourage as the group made its way through the curving
streets toward the mushroom grove. The soldiers of House
Baenre alone wore their house insignia in open view, and no
one wanted to invoke the anger of Matron Baenre in any
way.
Malice just rolled her eyes in disbelief and hoped that she
might know such power before she died.
She rolled her eyes again a few minutes later, when the
group approached the ruling house. House Baenre encom-
passed twenty tall and majestic stalagmites, all intercon-
nected with gracefully sweeping and arching bridges and
parapets. Magic and faerie fire glowed from a thousand sep-
arate sculptures and a hundred regally adorned guardsmen
paced about in perfect formations.
Even more striking were the inverse structures, the thirty
smaller stalactites of House Baenre. They hung down from
the ceiling of the cavern, their roots lost in the high dark-
ness. Some of them connected tip-to-tip with the stalagmite
mounds, while others hung freely like poised spears. Ring-
ing balconies, curving up like the edging of a screw, had
been built along the length of all of these, glowing with an
overabundance of magic and highlighted design.
Magic, too, was the fence that connected the bases of the
outer stalagmites, encircling the whole of the compound. It
was a giant web, silver against the general blue of the rest of
the outer compound. Some said it had been a gift from Lloth
herself, with iron-strong strands as thick as a drow elf's
arm. Anything touching Baenre's fence, even the sharpest
of drow weapons, would simply stick fast until the matron
mother willed the fence to let it free.
Malice and her escorts moved straight toward a symmet-
rical and circular section of this fence, between the tallest of
the outer towers. As they neared, the gate spiraled and
wound out, leaving a gap large enough for the caravan to
step through.
Malice sat through it all, trying to appear unimpressed.
Hundreds of curious soldiers watched the procession as it
made its way to the central structure of House Baenre, the
great purple-glowing chapel dome. The common soldiers
left the entourage, leaving only the four high priestesses to:
escort Matron Malice inside.
The sights beyond the great doors to the chapel did not
disappoint her. A central altar dominated the place with a
row of benches spiraling out in several dozen circuits to the
perimeter of the great hall. 1\'0'0 thousand drow could sit
there with room to stretch. Statues and idols too numerous
to count stood all about the place, glowing in a quiet black
light. In the air high above the altar loomed a gigantic glow-
ing image, a red-and-black illusion that slowly and contin-
ually shifted between the forms of a spider and a beautiful
drow female.
" A work of Gomph, my principal wizard” Matron Baenre
explained from her perch on the altar, guessing that Malice,
like everyone else who ever came to Chapel Baenre, was
awestruck by the sight. "Even wizards have their place”
"As long as they remember their place” Malice replied;;::
slipping down from the now stationary disk.
"Agreed” said Matron Baenre. "Males can get so presump-
tuous at times} especially wizards! Still, I wish that I had
Gomph at my side more often these days. He has been ap-
pointed Archmage of Menzoberranzan, you know, and
seems always at work on Narbondel or some other such
tasks”
Malice just nodded and held her tongue. Of course, she
knew that Baenre's son was the city's chief wizard. Every-
body knew. Everybody knew, too, that Baenre's daughter
Triel was the Matron Mistress of the Academy, a position of
honor in Menzoberranzan second only to the title of ma-
tron mother of an individual family. Malice had little doubt
that Matron Baenre would somehow work that fact into the
conversation before too long.
Before Malice took a step toward the stairs to the altar,
her newest escort stepped out from the shadows. Malice
scowled openly when she saw the thing, a creature known
as an illithid, a mind fIayer. It stood about six feet tall, fully a
foot taller than Malice, most of the difference being the re-
sult of the creature's enormous head. Glistening with slime,
he head resembled an octopus with pupil-less, milky white
eyes.
Malice composed herself quickly. Mind fIayers were not
mknown in Menzoberranzan, and rumors said that one
1ad befriended Matron Baenre. These creatures, though,
nore intelligent and more evil than even the drow, almost
Ilways inspired shudders of revulsion.
"You may call him Methil” Matron Baenre explained. "His
true name is beyond my pronunciation. He is a friend!'
Before Malice could reply, Baenre added, "Of course,
Methil gives me the advantage in our discussion, and you
are not accustomed to illithids!' Then, as Malice's mouth
drooped open in disbelief, Matron Baenre dismissed the il.
ithid.
"You read my thought” Malice protested. Few could insin.
Jate themselves through the mental barriers of a high
priestess well enough to read her thoughts, and the practice
was a crime of the highest order in drow society.
"No!" Matron Baenre explained, immediately on the de-
fensive. "Your pardon, Matron Malice. Methil reads
thoughts, even the thoughts of a high priestess, as easily as
you or I hear words. He communicates telepathically. On
my word, I did not even realize that you had not yet spoken
your thoughts!'
Malice waited to watch the creature depart the great hall,
then walked up the steps to the altar. In spite of her efforts
Igainst the action, she could not help peeking up at the
transforming spider-and-drow image every now and then.
"How fares House Do'Urden?" Matron Baenre asked,
Feigning politeness.
"Well enough” replied Malice, more interested at that mo-
ment in studying her counterpart than in conversing. They
were alone atop the altar, though no doubt a dozen or so
clerics wandered through the shadows of the great hall,
keeping a watchful eye on the situation.
Malice had all that she could handle in hiding her con-
tempt for Matron Baenre. Malice was old, nearly five hun-
dred, but Matron Baenre was ancient. Her eyes had seen
the rise and fall of a millennium, by some accounts, though
drow rarely lived past their seventh-and certainly not
their eighth-century. While drow normally did not show
their age-Malice was as beautiful and vibrant now as she
had been on her one-hundredth birthday-Matron Baenre
was withered and worn. The wrinkles surrounding her
mouth resembled a spider's web, and she could hardly keep
the heavy lids of her eyes from dropping altogether. Matron
Baenre should be dead, Malice noted, but still she lives.
Matron Baenre, seeming so beyond her time of life, was
pregnant, and due in only a few weeks.
In this aspect, too, Matron Baenre defied the norm of the
dark elves. She had given birth twenty times, twice as often
as any others in Menzoberranzan, and fifteen of those she
bore were female, everyone a high priestess! Thn of
Baenre's children were older than Malice!
"How many soldiers do you now command?" Matron
Baenre asked, leaning closer to show her interest.
"Three hundred” Malice replied.
"Oh," mused the withered old drow, pursing a finger to
her lips. "I had heard the count at three-hundred fifty”
Malice grimaced in spite of herself. Baenre was teasing
her, referring to the soldiers House Do'Urden had added in
its raid on House DeVir:
"Three hundred” Malice said again.
"Of course” replied Baenre, resting back.
"And House Baenre holds a thousand?" Malice asked for
no better reason than to keep herself on even terms in the
discussion.
"That has been our number for many years”
Malice wondered again why this old decrepit thing was
still alive. Surely more than one of Baenre's daughters as-
pired to the position of matron mother. Why hadn't they
conspired and finished Matron Baenre off? Or why hadn't
any of them, some in the later stages of life, struck out on
their own to form separate houses, as was the norm for no-
ble daughters when they passed their fifth century? While
they lived under Matron Baenre's rule, their children would
not even be considered nobles but would be relegated to the
ranks of the commoners.
"You have heard of the fate of House DeVir?" Matron
Baenre asked directly, growing as tired of the hesitant small
talk as her counterpart.
"Of what house?" Malice asked pointedly. At this time,
there was no such thing as House DeVir in Menzoberran-
zan. 1b drow reckoning, the house no longer existed; the
house never existed.
Matron Baenre cackled. "Of course” she replied. "You are
matron mother of the ninth house now. That is quite an
honor!'
Malice nodded. "But not as great an honor as matron
mother of the eighth house!'
"Yes” agreed Baenre, "but ninth is only one position away
from a seat on the ruling council!'
"That would be an honor indeed” Malice replied. She was
beginning to understand that Baenre was not simply teasing
her, but was congratulating her as well, and prodding her
on to greater glories. Malice brightened at the thought.
Baenre was in the highest favor of the Spider Queen. If she
was pleased with House Do'Urden's ascension, then so was
Lloth.
"Not as much of an honor as you would believe” said
Baenre. "We are a group of meddling old females, gathering
every so often to find new ways to put our hands into places
they do not belong!'
"The city recognizes your rule!'
"Does it have a choice?" Baenre laughed. "Still, drow busi-
ness is better left to the matron mothers of the individual
houses. Lloth would not stand for a presiding council exact-
jng anything that even remotely resembled total rule. Do
you not believe that House Baenre would have conquered
all of Menzoberranzan long ago if that was the Spider
Queen's will?"
Malice shifted proudly in her chair, appalled by such arro-
gant words.
"Not now, of course” Matron Baenre explained. "The city
is too large for such an action in this age. But long ago, be-
fore you were even born, House Baenre would not have
found such a conquest difficult. But that is not our way.
Lloth encourages diversity. She is pleased that houses stand
to balance each other, ready to fight beside each other in
times of common need” She paused a moment and let a
smile appear on her wrinkled lips. "And ready to pounce
upon any that fall out of her favor”
Another direct reference to House DeVir, Malice noted,
this time directly connected to the Spider Queen's pleasure.
Malice eased out of her angry posture and found the rest of
her discussion-fully two hours long-with Matron Baenre
quite enjoyable.
Still, when she was back on the disk and floating out
through the compound, past the grandest and strongest
house in all of Menzoberranzan, Malice was not smiling. In
the face of such an open display of power, she could not for-
get that Matron Baenre's purpose in summoning her had
been twofold: to privately and cryptically congratulate her
on her perfect coup, and to vividly remind her not to get too
ambitious.
Chapter 5
Weaning
For five long years Vierna devoted almost every waking
moment to the care of baby Drizzt. In drow society, this was
not so much a nurturing time as an indoctrinating time. The
child had to learn basic motor and language skills, as did
children of all the intelligent races, but a drow elf also had
to be grilled on the precepts that bound the chaotic society
together.
In the case of a male child such as Drizzt, Vierna spent
hour after endless hour reminding him that he was inferior
to the drow females. Since almost all of this portion of
Drizzt's life was spent in the family chapel, he encountered
no males except during times of communal worship. Even
when all in the house gathered for the unholy ceremonies,
