Exile: The Legend of Drizzt (4 page)

This was not the first time that Malice had accepted such an invitation from Matron Baenre, so she was not the least bit surprised when several Baenre clerics moved out from the shadows to encircle the floating disk in a protective guard. The last time Malice had made this trip, she had been tentative, not really understanding Baenre’s intent in summoning her. This time, though, Malice folded her arms defiantly across her chest and let the curious onlookers view her in all the splendor of her victory.

Malice accepted the stares proudly, feeling positively superior. Even when the disk reached the fabulous weblike fence of House Baenre, with its thousand marching guards and towering stalagmite and stalactite structures, Malice’s pride had not diminished.

She was of the ruling council now, or soon would be; no longer did she have to feel intimidated anywhere in the city. Or so she thought.

“Your presence is requested in the chapel,” one of Baenre’s clerics said to her when the disk came to a stop at the base of the great domed building’s sweeping stairs.

Malice stepped down and ascended the polished stones. As soon as she entered, she noticed a figure sitting on one of the chairs atop the raised central altar. The seated drow, the only other person visible in the chapel, apparently did not notice that Malice had entered. She sat back comfortably, watching the huge illusionary image at the top of the dome shift through its forms, first appearing as a gigantic spider, then a beautiful drow female.

As she moved closer, Malice recognized the robes of a matron mother, and she assumed, as she had all along, that it was Matron Baenre herself, the most powerful figure in all of Menzoberranzan, awaiting her. Malice made her way up the altar’s stairs, coming up behind the seated drow. Not waiting for an invitation, she boldly walked around to greet the other matron mother.

It was not, however, the ancient and emaciated form of Matron Baenre that Malice Do’Urden encountered on the dais of the Baenre chapel. The seated matron mother was not old beyond the years of a drow and as withered and dried as some bloodless corpse. Indeed, this drow was no older than Malice and quite diminutive. Malice recognized her all too well.

“SiNafay!” she cried, nearly toppling.

“Malice,” the other replied calmly.

A thousand troublesome possibilities rolled through Malice’s mind. SiNafay Hun’ett should have been huddling in fear in her doomed house, awaiting the annihilation of her family. Yet here SiNafay sat, comfortably, in the hallowed quarters of Menzoberranzan’s most important family!

“You do not belong in this place!” Malice protested, her slender fists clenched at her side. She considered the possibilities of attacking her rival there and then, of throttling SiNafay with her own hands.

“Be at ease, Malice,” SiNafay remarked casually. “I am here by the invitation of Matron Baenre, as are you.”

The mention of Matron Baenre and the reminder of where they were calmed Malice considerably. One did not act out of sorts in the chapel of House Baenre! Malice moved to the opposite end of the circular dais and took a seat, her gaze never leaving the smugly smiling face of SiNafay Hun’ett.

After a few interminable moments of silence, Malice had to speak her mind. “It was House Hun’ett that attacked my family in the last dark of Narbondel,” she said. “I have many witnesses to the fact. There can be no doubt!”

“None,” SiNafay replied, her agreement catching Malice off her guard.

“You admit the deed?” she balked.

“Indeed,” said SiNafay. “Never have I denied it.”

“Yet you live,” Malice sneered. “The laws of Menzoberranzan demand justice upon you and your house.”

“Justice?” SiNafay laughed at the absurd notion. Justice had never been more than a facade and a means of keeping the pretense of order in chaotic Menzoberranzan. “I acted as the Spider Queen demanded of me.”

“If the Spider Queen approved of your methods, you would have been victorious,” Malice reasoned.

“Not so,” interrupted another voice. Malice and SiNafay turned about just as Matron Baenre magically appeared, sitting comfortably in the chair farthest back on the dais.

Malice wanted to scream out at the withered matron mother, both for spying on her conversation and for apparently refuting
her claims against SiNafay. Malice had managed to survive the dangers of Menzoberranzan for five hundred years, though, primarily because she understood the implications of angering one such as Matron Baenre.

“I claim the rights of accusation against House Hun’ett,” she said calmly.

“Granted,” replied Matron Baenre. “As you have said, and as SiNafay agreed, there can be no doubt.”

Malice turned triumphantly on SiNafay, but the matron mother of House Hun’ett still sat relaxed and unconcerned.

“Then why is she here?” Malice cried, her tone edged in explosive violence. “SiNafay is an outlaw. She—”

“We have not argued against your words,” Matron Baenre interrupted. “House Hun’ett attacked and failed. The penalties for such a deed are well known and agreed upon, and the ruling council will convene this very day to see that justice is carried through.”

“Then why is SiNafay here?” Malice demanded.

“Do you doubt the wisdom of my attack?” SiNafay asked Malice, trying to keep a chuckle under her breath.

“You were defeated,” Malice reminded her matter-of-factly. “That alone should provide your answer.”

“Lolth demanded the attack,” said Matron Baenre.

“Why, then, was House Hun’ett defeated?” Malice asked stubbornly. “If the Spider Queen—”

“I did not say that the Spider Queen had imbued her blessings upon House Hun’ett,” Matron Baenre interrupted, somewhat crossly. Malice shifted back in her seat, remembering her place and her predicament.

“I said only that Lolth demanded the attack,” Matron Baenre continued. “For ten years all of Menzoberranzan has suffered the spectacle of your private war. The intrigue and excitement wore
away long ago, let me assure you both. It had to be decided.”

“And it was,” declared Malice, rising from her seat. “House Do’Urden has proven victorious, and I claim the rights of accusation against SiNafay Hun’ett and her family!”

“Sit down, Malice,” SiNafay said. “There is more to this than your simple rights of accusation.”

Malice looked to Matron Baenre for confirmation, though, considering the present situation, she could not doubt SiNafay’s words.

“It is done,” Matron Baenre said to her. “House Do’Urden has won, and House Hun’ett will be no more.”

Malice fell back into her seat, smiling smugly at SiNafay. Still, though, the matron mother of House Hun’ett did not seem the least bit concerned.

“I will watch the destruction of your house with great pleasure,” Malice assured her rival. She turned to Baenre. “When will punishment be exacted?”

“It is already done,” Matron Baenre replied mysteriously.

“SiNafay lives!” Malice cried.

“No,” the withered matron mother corrected. “She who was SiNafay Hun’ett lives.”

Now Malice was beginning to understand. House Baenre had always been opportunistic. Could it be that Matron Baenre was stealing the high priestesses of House Hun’ett to add to her own collection?

“You will shelter her?” Malice dared to ask. “No,” Matron Baenre replied evenly. “That task will fall to you.”

Malice’s eyes went wide. Of all the many duties she had ever been appointed in her days as a high priestess of Lolth, she could think of none more distasteful. “She is my enemy! You ask that I give her shelter?”

“She is your daughter,” Matron Baenre shot back. Her tone softened and a wry smile cracked her thin lips. “Your oldest daughter, returned from travels to Ched Nasad, or some other city of our kin.”

“Why are you doing this?” Malice demanded. “It is unprecedented!”

“Not completely correct,” replied Matron Baenre. Her fingers tapped together out in front of her while she sank back within her thoughts, remembering some of the strange consequences of the endless line of battles within the drow city.

“Outwardly, your observations are correct,” she continued to explain to Malice. “But surely you are wise enough to know that many things occur behind the appearances in Menzoberranzan. House Hun’ett must be destroyed—that cannot be changed—and all of the nobles of House Hun’ett must be slaughtered. It is, after all, the civilized thing to do.” She paused a moment to ensure that Malice was fully comprehending the meaning of her next statement. “They must appear, at least, to be slaughtered.”

“And you will arrange this?” Malice asked.

“I already have,” Matron Baenre assured her.

“But what is the purpose?”

“When House Hun’ett initiated its attack against you, did you call upon the Spider Queen in your struggles?” Matron Baenre asked bluntly.

The question startled Malice, and the expected answer upset her more than a little.

“And when House Hun’ett was repelled,” Matron Baenre went on coldly, “did you give praise to the Spider Queen? Did you call upon a handmaiden of Lolth in your moment of victory, Malice

Do’Urden?”

“Am I on trial here?” Malice cried. “You know the answer, Matron Baenre.” She looked at SiNafay uncomfortably as she
replied, fearing that she might be giving some valued information away. “You are aware of my situation concerning the Spider Queen. I dare not summon a yochlol until I have seen some sign that I have regained Lolth’s favor.”

“And you have seen no sign,” SiNafay remarked.

“None other than the defeat of my rival,” Malice growled back at her.

“That was not a sign from the Spider Queen,” Matron Baenre assured them both. “Lolth did not involve herself in your struggles. She only demanded that they be finished!”

“Is she pleased at the outcome?” Malice asked bluntly.

“That is yet to be determined,” replied Matron Baenre. “Many years ago, Lolth made clear her desires that Malice Do’Urden sit upon the ruling council. Beginning with the next light of Narbondel, it shall be so.”

Malice’s chin rose with pride.

“But understand your dilemma,” Matron Baenre scolded her, rising up out of her chair. Malice slumped back immediately.

“You have lost more than half of your soldiers,” Baenre explained. “And you do not have a large family surrounding and supporting you. You rule the eighth house of the city, yet it is known by all that you are not in the Spider Queen’s favor. How long do you believe House Do’Urden will hold its position? Your seat on the ruling council is in jeopardy even before you have assumed it!”

Malice could not refute the ancient matron’s logic. They both knew the ways of Menzoberranzan. With House Do’Urden so obviously crippled, some lesser house would soon take advantage of the opportunity to better its station. The attack by House Hun’ett would not be the last battle fought in the Do’Urden compound.

“So I give to you SiNafay Hun’ett … Shi’nayne Do’Urden … a
new daughter, a new high priestess,” said Matron Baenre. She turned then to SiNafay to continue her explanation, but Malice found herself suddenly distracted as a voice called out to her in her thoughts, a telepathic message.

Keep her only as long as you need her, Malice Do’Urden
, it said. Malice looked around, guessing the source of the communication. On a previous visit to House Baenre, she had met Matron Baenre’s mind flayer, a telepathic beast. The creature was nowhere in sight, but neither had Matron Baenre been when Malice had first entered the chapel. Malice looked around alternately at the remaining empty seats atop the dais, but the stone furniture showed no signs of any occupants.

A second telepathic message left her no doubts.

You will know when the time is right.

“… and the remaining fifty of House Hun’ett’s soldiers,” Matron Baenre was saying. “Do you agree, Matron Malice?”

Malice looked at SiNafay, an expression that might have been acceptance or wicked irony. “I do,” she replied.

“Go, then, Shi’nayne Do’Urden,” Matron Baenre instructed SiNafay. “Join your remaining soldiers in the courtyard. My wizards will get you to House Do’Urden in secrecy.”

SiNafay cast a suspicious glance Malice’s way, then moved out of the great chapel.

“I understand,” Malice said to her hostess when SiNafay had gone.

“You understand nothing!” Matron Baenre yelled back at her, suddenly enraged. “I have done all that I may for you, Malice Do’Urden! It was Lolth’s wish that you sit upon the ruling council, and I have arranged, at great personal cost, for that to be so.”

Malice knew then, beyond any doubt, that House Baenre had prompted House Hun’ett to action. How deep did Matron Baenre’s influence go, Malice wondered? Perhaps the withered
matron mother also had anticipated, and possibly arranged, the actions of Jarlaxle and the soldiers of Bregan D’aerthe, ultimately the deciding factor in the battle.

She would have to find out about that possibility, Malice promised herself. Jarlaxle had dipped his greedy fingers quite deeply into her purse.

“No more,” Matron Baenre continued. “Now you are left to your own wiles. You have not found the favor of Lolth, and that is the only way you, and House Do’Urden, will survive!”

Malice’s fist clenched the arm of her chair so tightly that she almost expected to hear the stone cracking beneath it. She had hoped, with the defeat of House Hun’ett, that she had put the blasphemous deeds of her youngest son behind her.

“You know what must be done,” said Matron Baenre. “Correct the wrong, Malice. I have put myself forward on your behalf. I will not tolerate continued failure!”