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Kaanyr had thrown one leg over the armrest of the throne and sat with his chin resting in his cupped hand, elbow against his knee. He was staring off into the upper reaches of the chamber, obviously thinking and oblivious to her.

Aliisza almost unconsciously began to saunter provocatively as she closed the distance between them, and yet she found that she was admiring his form as much as she hoped he was appreciating hers. His graying hair was roguishly disheveled and, combined with his swept-back ears, gave him the appearance of a maturing, if somewhat devil-may-care, half-elf. Aliisza crooked her mouth in a sly smile, thinking of him engaging in the many subterfuges he was so fond of, passing himself off on the surface world as a member of that fair race.

Kaanyr finally heard his consort's footsteps and looked up at her, his features brightening, though whether it was simply for the sight of her or the news she bore, she was not sure. She reached the first steps of the dais and climbed to where he sat, allowing just a hint of a pout to creep into her visage.

"Ah, my delectable one, you've come, and with news, I hope?" Kaanyr asked, straightening himself and patting his thigh.

Aliisza stuck out her tongue at him and sashayed the remaining distance to plop herself down atop his lap.

"You never just ravish me anymore, Kaanyr," she pretended to complain, wriggling her backside as she settled. "You only love me for the work I do for you."

"Oh, that's not fair, little one," Vhok replied, running his hand lovingly down one of her black, shiny leather wings. "Nor is it particularly true."

With that, he reached up with his other hand, and placing it behind her lustrous black curls, crushed her to him, engaging her mouth with his own in a deep, spine-tingling kiss. For the briefest of moments she considered resisting him, playing one of the infinite variations of the games the two of them seemed to love so much, but the thought was short-lived. His hand strayed down her throat to the hollow of her neck, and it continued lower still. She practically buzzed at his touch, and she knew that with the news she brought him, such flirtations would only break the spell.

As It was, Kaanyr still pulled away after a moment's heated embrace and said, "Enough. Tell me what you found out."

This time, Aliisza really did pout. His caresses on her wings and elsewhere left her panting slightly, and important news or not, she was not ready to be cast aside so quickly. She considered withholding the information for a time, sending a subtle message that she was not to be trifled with. He might rule this place, but she was not his servant. She was consort, she was advisor, and she was free to find another lover, should he cease to satisfy her. Satisfying an alu—the daughter of a succubus and a human mate—was a challenge few were up to. Kaanyr was one of those few. She decided to tell him her news.

"They haven't veered from their course, though it's apparent they know we're closing in. Their scouts have spotted our skirmishers and have continued to avoid contact. We will have them pinned against the Araumycos, soon."

You're certain they're not here to spy or to wage war? No quick strikes before vanishing into the wilds?"

Kaanyr was absently stroking one of her wings as he asked this, and the alu-fiend shivered in delight. He seemed not to notice her reaction.

"Fairly certain. They are apparently headed southeast, toward Ched Nasad. Each time we cut off their route, they seek out another. They seem intent on keeping to that path."

"Yet, they are not a caravan," he said. "They don't have goods or pack animals. In fact, they travel unreasonably lightly armed for drow. They are definitely up to something. The question is, what?"

Aliisza shivered again, though this time it was as much from the anticipation of the next bit of news as from Kaanyr's absentminded petting.

"Oh, definitely not a caravan," she told him. "It's the strangest drow entourage I think I've seen wandering around the wilds. They have a draegloth with them."

Kaanyr straightened, staring straight into Aliisza's eyes, and asked, "A draegloth? Are you sure?"

When the alu nodded, he pursed his lips.

"Interesting. This just gets more and more intriguing. First, we haven't seen a drow caravan of any sort in the last few tendays. Finally, when a party of drow do venture out, they come straight through here, something they would normally avoid like the stink on a dretch, and lastly, they have a draegloth accompanying them, which means drow noble Houses are somehow personally involved. What in the Nine Hells are they up to?"

Vhok resumed staring off into the dark distance, again absently caressing his consort, this time letting his fingers trail gently down her ribs, which were exposed through the lacing of her shiny black leather corset. She sighed in delight but forced herself to stay focused.

"There's more. I listened in on a conversation when they stopped to rest. One of them, definitely a mage of some sort, was taunting another, who looked like a priestess."

"One of the males giving lip to a female? That can't last long."

"Not just any female. He referred to her as 'the Mistress of the Academy.'

Kaanyr sat upright, his stare deeply penetrating her own.

"Oh, really," he said in a tone so intrigued, he never noticed that his move nearly made Aliisza fall to the floor at his feet.

She managed to maintain her balance, but she was forced to stand to avoid looking silly. She glared at the cambion.

He went on, oblivious, "Oh, this is just too good. One of the highest drow priestesses in all of Menzoberranzan is trying to sneak incognito through my tiny little domain. And she's letting a wizard run his mouth at her. No caravans for more than a month, and now this. This is too much fun!"

Kaanyr turned to face Aliisza once more, and upon seeing her glare, he cocked his head in confusion.

"What? What's wrong?"

The alu fumed, "You have no idea, do you?"

Kaanyr spread his hands helplessly and shook his head.

"Well, then I'm not going to tell you!" she snapped, and turned away from him.

"Aliisza." Vhok's voice was deep and commanding, and it sent shivers down her spine. He was angry, just as she'd hoped. "Aliisza, look at me."

She glanced back at him over her shoulder, letting one arched eyebrow rise questioningly He had risen from the throne and was standing with his hands on his hips.

"Aliisza, I don't have time for this. Look at me!"

She shivered in spite of herself and turned fully around to face her lover. His eyes smoldered and made her melt. She pouted just a little, to let him know that she didn't like being chastised, but she was finished playing the game.

Vhok nodded slightly in satisfaction.

His visage softened a bit, and he said, "Whatever I did, I'll make it up to you later. Right now, though, you have to get back over there and find out what's going on. See if you can get face to face with them and 'invite' them to pay us a visit. But be careful. I don't want this to explode in my face. If a high priestess and a draegloth are part of this group, then the rest of them are dangerous, too. Keep the Scourged close, to hem them in, but don't waste too many bodies on an all-out attack. But also don't make it too obvious that you're holding them back. Also, don't—"

Aliisza rolled her eyes, feeling a little insulted.

I've done this a time or two before, you know," she interrupted, her voice thick with sarcasm. "I think I know what to do. But . . ."

She stepped closer to Kaanyr—Into him, really—rising up on her tiptoes and wrapping her arms around his waist and curling one smooth, bare leg around the back of his calf. She drew herself close, let her body press against his, and continued.

"When I'm done with this little task," she said, her voice smoky with desire, "you're going to tend to my needs for a while." She leaned up and nibbled on his ear, then whispered, "Your teasing Is working too well, love."

***

Triel didn't like brooding, but she caught herself doing it frequently of late. This time, when she realized she was at it again, she was suddenly aware of the faces of the other seven matrons, looking at her expectantly. She blinked and stared back at them for a moment, trying to recall the words of the conversation that had droned m the background of her thoughts. She could remember voices but nothing more.

"I asked," Matron Miz'ri Mizzrym said, "what thoughts have you given to other courses of action, should your sister fail to return?"

When Triel still did not respond, the hard-faced matron mother added, "There are thoughts floating around somewhere in there today, aren't there, Mother?"

Triel blinked again, jolted fully back to the conversation at hand by the Mizzrym's biting words, focusing her attention where it ought to be instead of on the empty sensation she felt where the goddess's presence should have been. Other courses of action . . .

"Of course," she replied at last. "I've been giving that considerable thought, but before we delve too deeply into alternatives, I think we must exercise some patience."

Matron Mez'Barris Armgo snorted. "Have you been listening to a word we've said in the last five minutes, Mother? Patience is a luxury we no longer have. We exhausted so much of our reserves of magic quelling the uprising we might—might, I say—be able to withstand another major insurrection, should one occur. As much as I love a good battle, putting down another slave rebellion would be wasteful, when it's only a matter of time before Gracklstugh or the survivors of Blingdenstone determine that we are powerless, without. . ."

The hulking, brutish matron mother faltered, unwilling, even as forward and tactless as she usually was, to put words to the crisis they all faced.

"If they aren't already aware," Zeerith Q'Xorlarrin interjected, glossing over Mez'Barris's unfinished thought. "Even now, one or more of the other nations could be amassing an army to drive to our gates. New voices could be whispering poison into the ears of the lesser creatures down in the Braeryn or the Bazaar, voices belonging to those clever enough to mask their true identities, their true intent. Its something we must consider and discuss."

"Oh, yes," Yasraena Dyrr said contemptuously. "Yes, let's sit here and discuss; not act, never act. We are afraid to venture forth into our own city!"

"Bite your tongue!" Triel snapped, growing more and more incensed.

She was angry not only at the direction of the conversation— suggestions of cowardice from the High Council!—but also at the ridicule, the unusually open vitriolic nature, of the other matrons' words. Ridicule directed at her.

"If there is one among us afraid to walk our own streets, she need no longer sit on this Council. Are you one such, Yasraena?"

The matron mother from House Agrach Dyrr grimaced at the chastisement she was receiving, and Triel realized it was not merely because Yasraena knew she had overstepped herself. It was the matron of House Baenre, supposedly an ally to Yasraena's house, that was administering this stern lecture. Triel intended it as such. It was time to send a message, to remind the other matron mothers that she still sat at the top of the power structure and she would not tolerate such insubordination from any of those sitting around her, ally or not.

"Perhaps Matron Q'Xorlarrin is right," Miz'ri Mizzrym said quietly, in an obvious attempt to steer the conversation in a new direction. "Perhaps we should consider not just who knows, not just who moves against us—covertly or otherwise—but who might be allying together against us. If even two or three of the other nations come together as our enemies ..."

She let the thought trail off, and the other drow in the chamber looked uncomfortable, considering its obvious conclusion.

"We need to know what's going on," she continued, "at the very least. Our spy network among the duergar, the illithids, and other deep races has not been best used of late or perhaps isn't as strong as we would like. But what's m place should be funneling more information back to us about the intentions of potential threats."

"Oh, it should be doing more than that," Byrtyn Fey said. Triel raised her eyebrow in slight surprise, for the voluptuous matron mother of House Fey-Branche did not often find interest in discussions so far removed from her own hedonistic pleasures.

"It should be looking for possible weaknesses among our enemies. It should be exploiting those weaknesses, setting potential allies against one another, and perhaps, it should be on the lookout for dissatisfied elements of those traditional enemies, elements that might even consider a new alliance."

"What, are you mad?" Mez'Barris snapped. "Allying with outsiders? Who is there to trust? No matter how we approach such an alliance, the moment we reveal that we cannot receive blessings from our own goddess, potential allies will either laugh uproariously or trip over themselves running to spread the news."

"Don't be dense," Byrtyn snapped right back. "I know how fond you are of the straightforward, brutal-truth method for everything, but there are better, more subtle ways of luring an ally into your bed. Potential suitors need not know about your shortcomings until after you have partaken of their charms."

"Not being able to defend our own city from attack would be too obvious a shortcoming to try to hide," Zeerith said, frowning. "Our own charms will have to be most convincing to blind such potential suitors from the truth. Still, the idea has merit."

"It is impossible," Matron Mez'Barris said, folding her thick arms and leaning back as though dismissing the discussion. "The risk of discovery by our enemies would only be magnified, and the rewards are certainly not worth it."

"Spoken like a hag with few to share her bed," Byrtyn said smugly, stretching languidly to make certain her own well-rounded figure was plainly visible through the sheer fabric of her shimmering dress. "And one who's always trying to convince herself that she's better off without them, anyway."