R.A. Salvatore's War of the Spider Queen: Dissolution, Insurrection, Condemnation

by Richard Lee Byers; Thomas M. Reid; Richard Baker

  “This is foolish,” Umrae D’Dgttu, matron mother of the second most powerful House in the city said. “We’ve heard the story, some of us several times now. It is clear to me that House Zauvirr acted with the best intentions of Ched Nasad in mind. I move that we dissolve House Melarn forthwith.”

  Umrae was one of Ssipriina’s secret allies, Faeryl knew. This was it. They were beginning the process, giving her mother what she wanted. Dissolution of House Melarn was the first step in granting Ssipriina a seat on the Council.

  “I concur,” said Ulviirala Rilynt, another of the four her mother had bribed. “The treason of House Melarn seems clear enough to me.”

  Faeryl stole a glance at Ssipriina and saw that she was trying hard not to smile too broadly.

  “I’m more concerned with the veracity of their story,” Lirdnolu Maerret said. “So far, all we’ve had to go on is this fanciful tale Ssipriina and her daughter have woven, with no neutral observer able to substantiate it. House Zauvirr stands to gain quite a lot by seeing Drisinil and her ilk dead. I for one am unwilling to so quickly assume they’re telling the truth simply for the good of the city.”

  “Quite true,” Jyslin Aleanrahel agreed. “Let’s hear Drisinil’s daughter speak.”

  Faeryl opened her mouth to protest then snapped it shut again. The matron mothers knew well the propensity drow had for scheming, and this was the challenge Ssipriina had cautioned her would come. There were some who would want the whole truth and would look to try to trap House Zauvirr in a lie, or if they were allies of House Melarn, try to pin whatever blame they could on Ssipriina. Her mother had cautioned Faeryl for patience during this time. When their new enemies were exposed, or if the decision didn’t favor Zauvirr, their secret mercenary army would step forward.

  Halisstra Melarn was brought from the dungeons below to answer for her mother’s crimes. She was almost forcibly led into the chamber, flanked by two large female guards. She had been stripped of her fine clothing and was dressed in only a thin shift. She cast her eyes about the room, searching faces, perhaps hoping to find some sympathy or support among those present.

  It was rumored that Halisstra had a soft streak, that she never seemed to show the type of tenacious ambition her mother wanted to see in her daughters. She was more interested, those rumors suggested, in slumming with her battle captive, Danifae, using the other drow’s good looks to attract males to carouse with. There were even some who whispered that Matron Mother Melarn would have cast her out of the family, given the right circumstances. Faeryl knew that the slumming part was true, and that gave her an idea.

  She spread her hands helplessly, as if acknowledging that she had failed in some way. “I beg your forgiveness for whatever flaws you see in our plan, Matron Mothers,” Faeryl said quietly. “I am as disappointed as you that a House of our own beloved city would conspire with foreigners at our expense. I now recall additional damning evidence that might put this debate to rest.”

  “What?” Ssipriina said, leaning forward, obviously loath to see her daughter possibly ruin her own carefully laid web of lies.

  Faeryl studiously ignored her mother.

  “What do you mean?” Jyslin said, her eyes narrowing.

  Faeryl was sure she had the advantage. Though she had not mentioned it before—since it was a lie she had only conceived of on the spur of the moment—there was no way Jyslin could challenge her for leaving it out of her story the first time. Faeryl could pretend she’d simply forgotten it until then.

  “It’s just that, right after passing through the gates of the city, I had the good fortune to spy Mistress Halisstra and her consort, Danifae Yauntyrr. I was surprised to see them in such a sordid section of the city, but I considered it a stroke of good fortune, nonetheless. I made a specific effort to move into their line of sight so that they would see it was me and notice I was with strangers. I thought for certain they had spotted me, and I even flashed a quick message to Danifae, but she either didn’t recognize me or didn’t want anyone to know they’d been there. She turned Halisstra away, and the two of them melted into the crowd. At the time, I didn’t think anything of it, but now I realize that she must have been there to signal Quenthel and the others.”

  Halisstra’s eyes grew wide at hearing Faeryl’s accusations. She sputtered to find the words to defend herself.

  “I . . . we never . . . Matron Mothers, I assure you that we never saw the ambassador and her companions in the lower sections of the city. I am innocent of the charges leveled against me.”

  Faeryl smiled to herself. Halisstra had specifically avoided denying that she had been there. It had been a gamble, supposing that the two of them might have been in the vicinity in the last couple of days, but it had paid off. The unwanted attention was being focused on Halisstra.

  “Perhaps I am mistaken,” Faeryl quickly interjected. She smiled at Halisstra, who was staring daggers at her in return. “It was crowded there, with all of the refugees and the base-born males in their revelry, so it’s easy to understand how I only thought Danifae had caught the eye of someone in my party. The two of you were obviously seeking someone else.”

  Faeryl wanted to grin at her own cleverness. By pulling back, admitting she had made a mistake, she doubly damned Halisstra. The seed of doubt had been planted in everyone’s mind, and the less she tried to force them to accept her theory, the more likely they all would be to believe it; such was drow nature. For those who chose to believe Halisstra’s innocence, that left only one other reason for her to be in such an improper part of the city. Either way, it shed an unpleasant light on the daughter of a traitor.

  Ssipriina turned to Jyslin Aleanrahel and said, “Matron Mother, I am only a trader, unused to the machinations of the higher nobility. If I had foreseen how greatly this would have displeased you, I would have conceived of a better way to deal with the crisis at hand. As it was, I still hope you will consider that I was keeping only the best interests of Ched Nasad in mind, acting in all ways on its behalf.”

  There was a general murmur from the matron mothers as they put their heads together, no doubt discussing the additional implications of guilt Faeryl’s little tale had just heaped upon House Melarn. At the very least, the suggestion that Halisstra had been carousing with the commoners of the city meant that her disgraceful behavior was of the worst sort and she was unfit to rule a noble House. That half of it happened to be true only made the whole incident sweeter to Faeryl, who was simply glad she was no longer the drow everyone else was looking down their noses at.

  “Enough!” Aunrae Nasadra shouted, rapping her rune-covered staff upon the floor. Even in such an impromptu meeting, the eldest and most powerful matron mother commanded absolute respect, and the room fell silent. “This nonsense is the reason we face the bleak loss of our goddess’s favor. How can we expect Lolth to grant us her attention when we waste so much time and energy on such ridiculous discussions as who’s stepped in the most rothé muck?” The matriarch walked among the others, peering at them all. “Whether or not House Melarn’s progeny chooses to whore around with low-born males in the seamiest underbelly of Ched Nasad is of no concern to me.”

  Faeryl stole a glance at Halisstra, whose face was down in humiliation.

  Matron Mother Nasadra paid neither of them any heed.

  “The streets are not safe for most drow,” she said. “We all know the extra precautions we had to take even to come here. Our city is on the verge of disaster, mothers, and yet we must stand here and discuss the fate of a noble House, one high enough to have a seat on the Council.

  “Ssipriina has suggested that we dissolve House Melarn and offer up Halisstra and these remaining outsiders as sacrifices to appease the masses as much as the Dark Mother. While we know nothing about why our beloved Lolth is angry with us, that she is angry with us, we are certain. Will this help? Will it bring her blessings back to us?

  “If we make an example of the traitors and let the whole city see us do it will it quiet the ci
tizens for a time? Perhaps, but more importantly, will it satisfy all of you? Will you return to your Houses satisfied that a House has fallen and that the hierarchy has shuffled sufficiently? There are things more fragile than the peace of our city, but they are few in number. This backstabbing, while inherent in our nature, is misplaced during this time of difficulties.”

  “What if this Baenre priestess’s companions know something?” Halisstra asked. “What if they have an inkling of what troubles the Dark Mother? If you simply kill me, then you get what you want— one less House to stand in your way—but if you kill them, whether as spies or as sacrifices, you might lose valuable information.”

  “Shut your mouth, child!” Ssipriina hissed. “You’ve shamed us enough for one lifetime. Do not think that you can escape justice merely by pretending to be loyal now. It’s too late for that.”

  Halisstra would not be deterred. She proceeded, ignoring the dark stares the matron mothers gave her.

  “What if this wizard has discovered something?” she asked. “Faeryl has already told us he is clever and was not above antagonizing Quenthel. I would not put it past him to know more than he’s letting on. Why kill him, when he might be so inclined to parlay with us? Could he be willing to reveal his own secrets? Perhaps even for a price? There are those among you who do not wish to hear what he has to say. He might expose the lies you have told concerning my mother and me.”

  Aunrae smiled and said, “Tell me, child, do you think Lolth would grant such a vision to a male? Do you think she would allow a boy, however clever, to unlock the secrets of her silence?”

  “These are desperate times, Matron Mother, you said so yourself. I would not close any possible avenue of redemption, however thickly cloaked in folly it may seem. Of course, I have few avenues of redemption for my life left. I have my own desperate times. Whether you wish to question him or not, I merely ask that you bring him as a witness into these proceedings. His words could prove my own innocence.”

  Faeryl frowned, not liking where this was leading. She was beginning to think it had been a mistake to put the full plan into motion until Pharaun and the others had also been brought into custody, or better yet, killed. Maybe she could get to him before the rest of them had a chance to speak with him, take care of it herself, one way or another. Perhaps then her mother would stop treating her like a child.

  Aunrae nodded, her mouth pursed as though considering the younger drow’s words.

  “You argue for your life, Halisstra Melarn, but still your pleas have some merit. We will wait to pass sentence on you until we’ve had a chance to hear all sides. As for the ‘clever boy,’ when he comes to us, when we have him in our possession, we will extract whatever information he has, fully and without paying any price. Somehow, I do not think Quenthel Baenre had established the proper leashes on her wizard. I do not intend to make the same mistake.”

  “Matron Mother Nasadra,” Zammzt called from the back of the room, where he had just entered. “They are here.”

  Pharaun, Ryld, and Valas had been led inside and shown to a waiting room, an all-too-familiar sight to each of them and one that did nothing to set their minds at ease. They were left alone, or rather with only sentries posted at each of the exits to keep them company. Pharaun occupied his time strolling through the chamber, admiring the frescos and statuary that were in abundance there, primarily exhibiting the motif of spiders, webbing, and the glory of the dark elves. There were a goodly number of musical instruments as well, some he didn’t even recognize. The Master of Sorcere supposed a good many of the works related to the history of House Melarn, but to Pharaun it was all just so much pomp and circumstance. Ryld and Valas, meanwhile, had their heads together in consultation, most likely discussing tactics for extricating themselves in the event that things went bad.

  When the double doors at the far end of the room were thrown open, Pharaun turned to see not one but several ostentatious drow females—matriarchs all, he was sure—waiting in the large audience chamber beyond. They were attended by a retinue of House wizards, soldiers, and younger females, all of them in House livery and many of them, Pharaun noted, radiating magical protections and other spells.

  “Good evening, and welcome to House Melarn,” one somewhat tall and slender drow said imperiously, waiting on the throne as the three males moved into the room. “I am Matron Mother Ssipriina Zauvirr.”

  Pharaun bowed slightly as he moved to a place in front of the throne, far enough back so as not to seem threatening. Ryld and Valas moved to join him as the other matron mothers gathered around the throne, and the assortment of wizards, priestesses, and soldiers flanked everyone else.

  Pharaun knew the woman was Faeryl’s mother, of course, but he couldn’t guess what she was doing on the throne of House Melarn.

  The mage looked around the chamber, trying to find Faeryl. She was there, though off in a corner of the room, as if she were trying to avoid notice.

  If I didn’t know better, Pharaun thought wryly, I would have to assume they’re expecting some sort of trouble.

  Neither Valas nor Ryld said anything, but the wizard could feel them on either side of him, tense and ready to spring.

  “We are honored and delighted to be guests in your House, Matron Mother Zauvirr,” Pharaun said. “To what do we owe this auspicious occasion?”

  And where in the Abyss are Quenthel and Jeggred? he silently added.

  Ssipriina Zauvirr sniffed and replied, “On the contrary, Pharaun Mizzrym, I should be the one thanking you and asking you why you have graced the City of Shimmering Webs with your august presence. The reputation that preceded you, telling of a confident, self-possessed mage of no small skill, was only half the story, it seems.”

  Pharaun smiled in the most disarming way he could muster as he shifted his weight to one foot, letting the other turn out slightly.

  “Everyone has her own opinions, as always, Matron Mother. That is not to say that anyone is in error, only that affectations and realities do not always mesh, and for good reason.”

  “Of course,” another matron mother said, moving forward from Ssipriina’s left, “and our opinion is that you and your companions, while affecting the appearance of simple travelers or even emissaries from our sister city of Menzoberranzan, are in reality spies, here to steal from us and expose whatever weaknesses you thought you might be able to find to the world at large.”

  So much for affectations, thought Pharaun, shifting his weight uneasily.

  He felt, rather than saw Ryld, to his left, and Valas, to his right, both stiffen at the undisguised accusation.

  “Easy,” he muttered under his breath. “Save the foolish heroics for the ‘all-else-fails’ part of the program.”

  Smoothing his face as best he could, the mage spread his hands in gracious acquiescence and said, “I’m sorry, Mistress . . .”

  “Matron Mother Jyslin Aleanrahel, of House Aleanrahel.”

  Pharaun swallowed then said, “Matron Mother Aleanrahel. While I’m sure our efforts at avoiding attention must seem terribly surreptitious, I can assure you that we meant nothing antagonistic. We only wished to—”

  “To avoid being confronted like this?” Jyslin interjected. “How well did that serve you?”

  Pharaun sighed and said, “Not well at all, it appears, but my companions and I still aren’t completely sure we understand your concerns. I must profess, I am confused as to why we’re meeting here, if none of you is Matron Mother Melarn.”

  Several of the matron mothers gave each other knowing glances. Pharaun was thoroughly confused. He continued to scan the room and saw something else quite odd: a drow, obviously nobly born but stripped to her underclothes and held prisoner between two stout guards, and it wasn’t Quenthel.

  “Oh, we have no concerns,” Jyslin Aleanrahel replied. “Not anymore. Until you arrived, we were concerned that we would not be able to detain you, that you might try to slip out of the city. We were concerned that you would report your discoveri
es to your superiors back in the City of Spiders. We were more concerned that you would try something foolish, like concluding your high priestess’s ill-conceived plan of theft and spying. You’ve cooperated nicely, though, so we feel we have the situation well in hand.”

  Ryld made an almost inaudible strangled noise, and the mage felt the warrior shift his weight. In response, several of the soldiers, who had unassumingly fanned out to more completely surround the trio, tensed as though expecting Ryld to lunge at them.

  Pharaun frowned.

  “I wasn’t aware that our high priestess was planning anything of the sort,” he said. “If something is amiss, we must all work to see that it is rectified. Just tell us where she is, and I’m sure we can resolve whatever—”

  “Quenthel Baenre was caught committing treasonous acts against Ched Nasad,” yet a third matron mother said, stepping out from behind the throne. Pharaun sensed that this one, with a graceful age about her face, might just be the most formidable drow he’d ever met. “There was no doubt about her guilt. She died trying to flee the scene of her crimes.”

  Pharaun blinked, reeling. Dead? Quenthel Baenre was dead? He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be worried. Behind him, he heard both of his companions’ gasps of surprise.

  “She was caught conspiring with House Melarn to illegally enter the city and steal valuable resources belonging to us,” the older drow said, “and we believe she was also committing espionage on behalf of Menzoberranzan. We consider these to be crimes against the city, against all drow, and most especially against the Dark Mother herself.”

  Conspiracy? Pharaun thought. How ridiculous could they be?

  He stared at the throne where Faeryl’s mother sat, and he was beginning to understand who was behind it, and perhaps why.

  No wonder Faeryl was so eager to help us, he thought. She was leading us by our noses the whole time.

  “Furthermore,” the matron mother continued, “you, by association with Quenthel, are accused of the same charges. You are under arrest, and you will be confined on the premises until such time as we can determine your guilt or innocence.”