第 13 页

Faeryl shook her head as she backed away from Jeggred, returning to her spot on the bed.

"No, of course not," she mumbled at last. "She shames us all with her cowardice."

"Precisely," Quenthel said, nodding sagely, "and as foolish as it was for them to be out and about in the first place, these three silly boys would have only caused more harm to our progress if they had made a spectacle of themselves as well."

"Forgive my impudence, Mistress Quenthel," Faeryl said, her tone dreary "I have returned home to find my city on the brink of implosion, where thralls dare to assault priestesses in open markets. As you love Menzoberranzan, your city and homeland, so I love Ched Nasad and do not wish to see her come to this end. I forgot myself in a moment of emotion."

Quenthel dismissed the apology with a wave of her hand.

"Understandable, in this time of crisis," she said, "but you must learn to control that emotion if we are to move forward."

"Do I take it, then, that you believe there is still more to be uncovered?" Pharaun asked.

"Perhaps," the high priestess answered, pacing once more. "I am willing to hear what the rest of you think, before I make my decision."

It was Valas who spoke first.

"I think it's unsafe to remain in the city for long, Mistress," the diminutive scout said. "We have discovered what we came here to learn, and I think it would be wise to return to Menzoberranzan before riots fill the streets and we get caught up in another slave revolt, or worse."

"I agree with Valas," Ryld added. "It is clear to me that the clerics here have handled the vanishing of Lolth less well than you and yours back home. There is little they can do for us."

Quenthel looked to Pharaun, knowing he would have something completely different and unorthodox in mind.

Pharaun shifted a bit, eyeing the other two males before saying, I think we might do better to investigate further. Valas opened my eyes to another possible avenue of study, one that I would like to take advantage of. There are other races who venerate the Dark Mother besides drow, and it would behoove us to discover whether or nor they, too, suffer her loss."

Quenthel nodded and said, "An interesting idea, but not one of much practicality. We are not loved by many others, and I doubt that those who worship Lolth would too freely impart such secretive information to us. Notice how we haven't been too forthcoming ourselves, even to the dark elves of our sister city. However, as there is still business I consider unfinished here, we will not be going just yet."

"Yes, precisely," Pharaun replied. "While you're busy with all that, I plan to at least look into my theory. I think I might know of a way to confirm it by tomorrow."

"I have other work for you tomorrow," Quenthel said, giving the wizard a cold gaze. "Faeryl, Jeggred, and I shall pay a visit to the storehouses of Black Claw Mercantile and take what rightfully belongs to House Baenre while the three of you find a means to transport it back. I intend to get out of the city with those goods as quickly as possible. The caravans are long overdue in Menzoberranzan, and we are here to make sure due payment is made."

Pharaun scowled briefly, and Quenthel was expecting an argument, but the wizard merely stood, nodding again.

***

Pharaun was surprised when Quenthel asked him to remain behind for a moment after dismissing the rest of the group, along with specific instructions to Jeggred to keep an eye on Faeryl, instructions that made the ambassador actually tremble. The wizard stood silently as Quenthel closed the door, then he cocked an eyebrow at her when she asked him if his detection spells were still in place.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, they are," the mage responded. "The divination should remain in place for a full day"

"Good," the high priestess said, nodding in satisfaction. "You're pretty talented with divining information, are you not?"

Pharaun could not help but grin but sat on the couch as he Spread his hands ingenuously, wondering why she, of all drow, would pay him a compliment.

"I manage to get by," he said.

"I want you to do something for me," Quenthel said, biting her lip.

Pharaun tipped his head to one side, surprised, for it was not at all like her, especially in recent tendays, to pay him a compliment, much less ask a favor of him.

We are indeed a long way from Menzoberranzan, he thought wryly.

It would give the wizard leverage if he could perform a genuine task for her, but of course the first notion that popped into his head was the prospect of being played. Shrugging, he motioned for her to speak further.

After a lengthy pause, the high priestess said, "I want you to determine the identity of someone."

" 'Someone?' " Pharaun asked. "Surely you have more for me to work with?"

"Yes ..." Quenthel answered, biting her lip again, "someone who was trying to kill me."

Pharaun sat upright on the couch, looking directly at the female in front of him.

"Kill you?"

He was surprised, not because it was so inconceivable that Quenthel was the target of an attack—merely being the Mistress of Arach-Tlnilith brought with it a host of enemies—but because she had decided to trust him enough with this confidence and the task. If that was indeed what she really wanted. Maybe she was just trying to occupy his time, keep him from something else. A hundred possibilities swirled in his head.

"Someone back in Menzoberranzan sent several demons after me," Quenthel said. "Sent them right into the Academy. Fortunately, my prowess was sufficient to fend off the attacks, but I would like to put a stop to them before we return. It is a waste of both the lives of my charges and the magic I have been forced to consume in the effort."

Pharaun nodded, thinking. Someone powerful enough to bend demons to his will had to come from Sorcere, he reasoned. Certainly, plenty of mages in the school of magic had the wherewithal, but how many of them were so interested in eliminating Quenthel Baenre?

"I will look into it," the Master of Sorcere said. "If I can determine who sent the fiends in your direction, you will be the first to know it."

"Good," Quenthel said. "You will tell no one of this, not even the other members of our expedition."

"Of course not, Mistress," Pharaun replied. "This issue is between the two of us, and the two of us only."

"Very well," the high priestess said, indicating that the meeting was at an end. "Ferret out my enemy, and when we return to Menzoberranzan in triumph, I will make certain you are duly honored for your part. Your future at Tier Breche will be as bright as Narbondel."

Pharaun bowed low as a gesture of thanks.

If by that you mean I will glow with the flame of a thousand of your killing spells, he thought, then we shall see.

"I look forward to the accolades, Mistress Quenthel," the mage said aloud, and with that he pulled the door open for her and followed her out to attend to the evening meal with the others.

***

Gromph sat at his bone desk, mulling over his inability to peer into the Demonweb where Lolth resided. None of his usual scrying spells had been successful, and he was growing irritated. He was considering ways to get around this dilemma when the message arrived. It was a mere whisper, but Gromph nonetheless recognized Pharaun Mizzrym's magically transmitted voice.

Reached Ched Nasad. City in chaos; matron mothers ruling in name only. Investigating new possibility, more information next communication. Quenthel to visit Black Claw tomorrow.

Gromph's mouth tightened at the mention of his sister.

Hopefully, she will not come back, he thought.

The archmage knew of the spell the other wizard was using to communicate, and he was aware that he could whisper an answer to his counterpart. Unfortunately, he had not prepared for this. Thinking quickly, he whispered a few instructions.

"Focus attention on gathering information to aid our own situation. Keep me apprised of all new possibilities. Report on success at Black Claw with next—

"—contact," Gromph finished, but he knew that the spell had winked out before he'd managed to utter the last word. He shook his head, disgruntled, but he knew the Mizzrym was clever enough to figure out what he meant, regardless. Whether he would follow those instructions or not was an entirely different matter.

The Baenre wizard sat back in his chair, contemplating for a moment, pondering what condition the expedition team was likely to be in. He especially wondered how his sister fared and if the strain of his own attacks, coupled with the journey, had taken their toll. He certainly hoped so.

He suspected that she and Pharaun were clashing on a regular basis. The wizard was too independent, too full of himself to know when to placate the high priestess, and she had been too long inside the Academy, too used to getting her own way, unwilling to listen to advice, no matter how reasonable.

That's my sister, the archmage thought, frowning.

It often seemed to Gromph as if both of his sisters made poor decisions for no other purpose than to spite others. Even if Quenthel did survive her journey, Gromph thought she might very well be ripe for the slaughter when she returned. If she returned. If Quenthel were to lead the expedition into disaster in Ched Nasad, it would certainly be to Gromph's advantage. He could be rid of both her and the Mizzrym fop in one very charming blow. Yet, the fate of Menzoberranzan might very well rest on their shoulders. Was sending them off together the wisest choice?

Still uncertain what his next step would be regarding his own investigations of Lolth's domain, but with a whole new set of issues to deal with, Gromph arose from behind his bone desk and hurried to find his sister.

***

Triel scowled slightly when she saw Gromph enter the audience chamber. It was not a time for public petitioning, and though her brother was hardly some common supplicant, she had hoped to avoid any visitations for a while. The matron mother straightened herself in the overly large throne as her brother approached. The archmage bowed low and stepped close, further irritating the matron mother. She liked everyone to keep a little distance.

Gromph kept his voice low, leaning in so as to nearly whisper, "Triel, I have news."

Triel doubted the guards outside, flanking the doors, were going to heat a normal conversation, but her brother had not become Archmage of Menzoberranzan through carelessness. She inclined her head to listen.

"Do tell," she said.

"Quenthel and the others have reached Ched Nasad," the archmage said. "Pharaun Mizzrym reports that the city is in an uproar. Apparently, Menzoberranzan is not the only city afflicted with Lolths disfavor."

"We don't know that it is disfavor!" Triel snapped. "There may be another explanation."

Gromph inclined his head slightly in apology.

"Afflicted with her absence," he corrected himself. "But the matron mothers there have done a poor job of keeping the situation quiet."

"How bad is it?"

"I gathered that trouble could be brewing . . . major trouble."

Triel sighed. As much of a relief as it was to find out Menzoberranzan was not being singled out for some sort of punishment, the news didn't get them any closer to discovering why the Dark Mother had chosen to disappear. Triel was at a loss as to the next step.

"Did he say what they were planning to do?" she asked her brother.

"Quenthel seems intent on following through with your instructions to bring back goods from Black Claw," Gromph replied.

The idea of more magical supplies lifted Triel's spirits slightly, but only slightly.

"Then I suppose they'll be returning within a few tendays," she said. "We are really no closer to an answer than we were when they left. It is only a matter of time before Menzoberranzan is in the same difficulties as her sister city."

"Unfortunately, you may be more correct than you understand."

"What other dire news do you have to report?"

If this was the way her mornings were going to start out, Triel considered remaining in Reverie until the midday meal a preferable alternative to actually rising and dealing with the issues at hand.

"I have received reports that our patrols are encountering a lot more activity around the perimeter of the city."

"What kind of activity?"

"Exactly what you might expect," Gromph said. "Though nothing has actually happened, no skirmishes breaking out, our patrols have spotted what looks to be scouting parties surveying our situation. Duergar, deep gnomes, and even kuo-toans have been spotted in greater-than-normal numbers."

"They know. They can tell that things aren't right."

"Perhaps. Or, they could simply be passing by ... traveling to somewhere else, and we've simply grown more sensitive to their presence."

"I doubt it," she replied. "This can't last. We're going to have to confront the situation soon. I will bring this up at the next council meeting."

"Of course," Gromph said and made a move to withdraw.

Triel motioned that her brother was dismissed and told herself that it was time to get on with her day, but she continued to brood atop her throne for some time after that.

***

Quenthel was thankful she had Jeggred along for the trip from the Flame and Serpent to the storehouse district. The mood of the city had grown worse since even the previous day, and the drow received more than a few menacing looks and jostles as they moved through the streets. Fortunately, the trio didn't have to travel far to get to where they needed to go, and much of the journey was made by way of levitation. Faeryl was in a sullen mood, despite the fact that she seemed more than eager to aid the Menzober-ranyr. Perhaps she was still displeased with Quenthel's lack of trust, or maybe she simply couldn't abide Jeggred's presence. The high priestess couldn't blame her. The draegloth took such delight in tormenting Faeryl, Quenthel almost felt sorry for the younger drow. Almost.

Quenthel had sent the males to procure transportation for the return trip to Menzoberranzan. She wasn't about to haul her own provisions on her back again, whether they managed to locate a stockpile of goods or not, and if they did they would need sufficient pack lizards and guards to ensure the materials arrived safely.