Homeland (24 page)

Did Malice fear that he might have better luck influencing the actions of a male child? Apparently the matron did, but even Zak was not so certain if her fears were justified; even he couldn’t measure his influence over Drizzt.

He peered out over the city now, silently watching for the patrol group’s return—waiting, as always, for Drizzt’s safe return, but secretly hoping, that his dilemma would be ended by the claws and fangs of a lurking monster.

y greetings, Faceless One,” the high priestess said, pushing past Alton into his private chambers in Sorcere.

“And mine to you, Mistress Vierna,” Alton replied, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. Vierna Do’Urden coming to see him at this time had to be more than coincidence. “What act has brought me the honor of a visit from a mistress of Arach-Tinilith?”

“No longer a mistress,” said Vierna. “I have returned to my home.”

Alton paused to consider the news. He knew that Dinin Do’Urden had also resigned his position at the Academy.

“Matron Malice has brought her family back together,” Vierna continued. “There are stirrings of war. You have heard them, no doubt?”

“Just rumors,” Alton stuttered, now beginning to understand why Vierna had come to call on him. House Do’Urden had used the Faceless One before in its plotting—in its attempt to assassinate Alton! Now, with rumors of war whispered throughout Menzoberranzan, Matron Malice was reestablishing her network of spies and assassins.

“You know of them?” Vierna asked sharply.

“I have heard little,” Alton breathed, careful now not to anger the powerful female. “Not enough to report to your house. I did not even suspect that House Do’Urden was involved until now, when you informed me.” Alton could only hope that Vierna had no detection spell aimed at his words.

Vierna relaxed, apparently appeased by the explanation. “Listen more carefully to the rumors, Faceless One,” she said. “My brother and I have left the Academy; you are to be the eyes and ears of House Do’Urden in this place.”

“But …” Alton stuttered.

Vierna held up a hand to stop him. “We know of our failure in our last transaction,” she said. She bowed low, something a high priestess rarely did to a male. “Matron Malice sends her deepest apologies that the unguent you received for the assassination of Alton DeVir did not restore the features to your face.”

Alton nearly choked on the words, now understanding why an unknown messenger had delivered the jar of healing salve some thirty years before. The cloaked figure was an agent of House Do’Urden, come to repay the Faceless One for his assassination of Alton! Of course, Alton had never even tried the unguent. With his luck, it would have worked, and would have restored the features of Alton DeVir.

“This time, your payment cannot fail,” Vierna went on, though Alton, too caught up in the irony of it all, hardly listened. “House Do’Urden possesses a wizard’s staff but no wizard worthy to wield it. It belonged to Nalfein, my brother, who died in the victory over DeVir.”

Alton wanted to strike out at her. Even he wasn’t that stupid, though.

“If you can discern which house plots against House Do’Urden,”

Vierna promised, “the staff will be yours! A treasure indeed for such a small act.”

“I will do what I can,” Alton replied, having no other response to the incredible offer.

“That is all Matron Malice asks of you,” said Vierna, and she left the wizard, quite certain that House Do’Urden had secured a capable agent within the Academy.

“Dinin and Vierna Do’Urden have resigned their positions,” said Alton excitedly as the diminutive matron mother came to him later that same evening.

“This is already known to me,” replied SiNafay Hun’ett.

She looked around disdainfully at the littered and scorched room, then took a seat at the small table.

“There is more,” Alton said quickly, not wanting SiNafay to get upset about being disturbed over old news. “I have had a visitor this day, Mistress Vierna Do’Urden!”

“She suspects?” Matron SiNafay growled.

“No, no!” Alton replied. “Quite the opposite. House Do’Urden wishes to employ me as a spy, as it once employed the Faceless One to assassinate me!”

SiNafay paused for a moment, stunned, then issued a laugh straight from her belly. “Ah, the ironies of our lives!” she roared.

“I had heard that Dinin and Vierna were sent to the Academy only to oversee the education of their younger brother,” remarked Alton.

“An excellent cover,” SiNafay replied. “Vierna and Dinin were sent as spies for the ambitious Matron Malice. My compliments to her.”

“Now they suspect trouble,” Alton stated, sitting opposite his matron mother.

“They do,” agreed SiNafay. “Masoj patrols with Drizzt, but House Do’Urden has also managed to plant Dinin in the group.”

“Then Masoj is in danger,” reasoned Alton.

“No,” said SiNafay. “House Do’Urden does not know that House Hun’ett perpetrates the threat against it, else it would not have come to you for information. Matron Malice knows your identity.”

A look of terror crossed Alton’s face.

“Not your true identity,” SiNafay laughed at him. “She knows the Faceless One as Gelroos Hun’ett, and she would not have come to a Hun’ett if she suspected our house.”

“Then we have an excellent opportunity to throw House Do’Urden into chaos!” Alton cried. “If I implicate another house, even Baenre, perhaps, our position will be strengthened.” He chuckled at the possibilities. “Malice will reward me with a staff of great power—a weapon I will turn against her at the proper moment!”

“Matron Malice!” SiNafay corrected sternly. Even though she and Malice were soon to be open enemies, SiNafay would not permit a male to show such disrespect to a matron mother. “Do you really believe that you could carry out such a deception?”

“When Mistress Vierna returns …”

“You will not deal with a lesser priestess with such valued information, foolish DeVir. You will face Matron Malice herself, a formidable foe. If she sees through your lies, do you know what she will do to your body?”

Alton gulped audibly. “I am willing to take the risk,” he said, crossing his arms resolutely on the table.

“What of House Hun’ett when the biggest lie is revealed?” SiNafay asked. “What advantage will we enjoy when Matron Malice knows the Faceless One’s true identity?”

“I understand,” Alton answered, crestfallen but unable to refute SiNafay’s logic. “Then what are we to do? What am I to do?”

Matron SiNafay was already considering their next moves.

“You will resign your tenure,” she said at length. “Return to House Hun’ett, within my protection.”

“Such an act might also implicate House Hun’ett to Matron Malice,” Alton reasoned.

“It may,” replied SiNafay, “but it is the safest route. I will go to Matron Malice in feigned anger, telling her to leave House Hun’ett out of her troubles. If she wishes to make an informant of a member of my family, then she should come to me for permission—though I’ll not grant it this time!”

SiNafay smiled at the possibilities of such an encounter. “My anger, my fear, alone could implicate a greater house against House Do’Urden, even a conspiracy between more than one house,” she said, obviously enjoying the added benefits. “Matron Malice will certainly have much to think about, and much to worry about!”

Alton hadn’t even heard SiNafay’s last comments. The words about granting her permission “this time” had brought a disturbing notion into his mind. “And did she?” he dared to ask, though his words were barely audible.

“What do you mean?” asked SiNafay, not following his thoughts.

“Did Matron Malice come to you?” Alton continued, frightened but needing an answer. “Thirty years ago. Did Matron SiNafay grant her permission for Gelroos Hun’ett to become an agent, an assassin to complete House DeVir’s elimination?”

A wide smile spread across SiNafay’s face, but it vanished in the blink of an eye as she threw the table across the room, grabbed Alton by the front of his robes, and pulled him roughly to within an inch of her scowling visage.

“Never confuse personal feelings with politics!” the tiny but obviously strong matron growled, her tone carrying the unmistakable weight of an open threat. “And never ask me such a question again!”

She threw Alton to the floor but didn’t release him from her penetrating glare.

Alton had known all along that he was merely a pawn in the intrigue between House Hun’ett and House Do’Urden, a necessary link for Matron SiNafay to carry out her treacherous plans. Every now and, though, Alton’s personal grudge against House Do’Urden caused him to forget his lowly place in this conflict. Looking up now at SiNafay’s bared power, he realized that he had overstepped the bounds of his position.

At the back end of the mushroom grove, the southern wall of the cavern that housed Menzoberranzan, was a small, heavily guarded cave. Beyond the ironbound doors stood a single room, used only for gatherings of the city’s eight ruling matron mothers.

The smoke of a hundred sweet-smelling candles permeated the air; the matron mothers liked it that way. After almost half a century of studying scrolls in the candlelight of Sorcere, Alton did not mind the light, but he was indeed uncomfortable in the chamber. He sat at the back end of a spider-shaped table, in a small, unadorned chair reserved for guests of the council. Between the table’s eight hairy legs were the ruling matron mothers’ thrones, all jeweled and dazzling in the candlelight.

The matrons filed in, pompous and wicked, casting belittling glares at the male. SiNafay, at Alton’s side, put a hand on his knee and gave him a reassuring wink. She would not have dared to request a gathering of the ruling council if she was not certain of the worthiness of her news. The ruling matron mothers viewed their seats as honorary in nature and did not appreciate being brought together except in times of crisis.

At the head of the spider table sat Matron Baenre, the most powerful figure in all of Menzoberranzan, an ancient and withered female with malicious eyes and a mouth unaccustomed to smiles.

“We are gathered, SiNafay,” Baenre said when all eight members had found their appointed chairs. “For what reason have you summoned the council?”

“To discuss a punishment,” SiNafay replied.

“Punishment?” Matron Baenre echoed, confused. The recent years had been unusually quiet in the drow city, without an incident since the Teken’duis Freth conflict. To the First Matron’s knowledge, no acts had been committed that might require a punishment, certainly none so blatant as to force the ruling council to action. “What individual deserves this?”

“Not an individual,” explained Matron SiNafay. She glanced around at her peers, measuring their interest. “A house,” she said bluntly. “Daermon N’a’shezbaernon, House Do’Urden.” Several gasps of disbelief came in reply, as SiNafay had expected.