R. Salvatore: Archmage

Seated beside Dahlia, High Priestess Sos’Umptu Baenre smiled unabashedly, as if she cared not at all that the puppet master’s strings were visible to the audience.

“Tos’un Armgo died honorably,” Matron Mother Baenre boldly pronounced, abruptly deflecting the conversation before it could be reduced to an open show of sides. “He rode Aurbangras, son of Arauthator, into battle even as Tiago flew Arauthator beside him. There, above the battlefield, they met the enemies of the white dragons, a pair of copper wyrms, in great combat. If there are any implications to your remark, Matron Mother Mez’Barris, perhaps you should first consider that neither I nor any others of Menzoberranzan hold sway over dragons, particularly not those of the metallic persuasion.”

“And Doum’wielle?” Matron Mother Mez’Barris retorted, and she was sorry she had blurted that from the moment it had left her mouth, particularly given the words of Matron Darthiir Do’Urden.

Seven of the nine members of the Ruling Council openly laughed at Mez’Barris’s remark. Only Zhindia Melarn of the Sixth House sat grimfaced, suspecting, no doubt, the same thing as Matron Mother Mez’Barris: It was no accident or simple matter of fate that neither Tos’un Armgo or his daughter Doum’wielle had returned from the surface campaign, or that now, apparently, all of the others-Tiago of House Baenre, Ravel of House Xorlarrin, and Saribel of both those Houses-would once more serve as nobles of the reconstituted House Do’Urden in Menzoberranzan.

Any thoughts Mez’Barris might have entertained of holding any influence in the Do’Urden compound were now clearly dashed.

The city was Matron Mother Baenre’s.

For now.

Mez’Barris glanced at Zhindia Melarn. She had never held any love for the fanatical Melarni priestesses, but it seemed to her that they were destined to ally now, given the unabashed and continuing power grab by Matron Mother Baenre.

She turned her gaze to Miz’ri Mizzrym, whose alliance with House Baenre was surely tentative. Miz’ri walked the fine line between rival merchant groups and House Baenre, who were reaching out for surface trade through both the rogue band Bregan D’aerthe and the new city of Q’Xorlarrin, which was fast becoming little more than an outpost of House Baenre.

But House Hunzrin, far more powerful than their rank on the Ruling Council might suggest, would not be pleased-and indeed were outraged that the matron mother had reestablished House Do’Urden from thin air, thus blocking the logical ascension of the other Houses with House Xorlarrin’s departure from the city-and Bregan D’aerthe was less controllable and predictable than any of the matron mothers ever dared openly admit.

Yes, there were cracks in Matron Mother Baenre’s designs, particularly now that the Spider Queen had failed in her bid for the Weave. And by all accounts Q’Xorlarrin had suffered greatly in the war. While this would surely send the sniveling Matron Mother Zeerith closer to Matron Mother Baenre’s side, would House Baenre be able to afford to send Zeerith the soldiers she might need to defend a concentrated assault by several drow Houses?

That suspicion was somewhat confirmed a moment later, when Matron Mother Byrtyn Fey, at best a very recent convert to Matron Mother Baenre’s circle of allies, unexpectedly changed the subject.

“Why did we not foresee the coming of the metallic wyrms?” she asked the matron mother, her tone not sounding critical, but her question surely biting. “The enlistment of Arauthator and Aurbangras to our cause, the joining of our cause to that of the goddess Tiamat, was a blessed thing. The execution of that alliance and the fall of Aurbangras, however, was not.”

“Matron Mother, surely you understand that the will and actions of dragons. .” Matron Mother Baenre started to reply.

“Yes, of course,” Byrtyn Fey interrupted-interrupted! — and with impunity she kept going. “But our own forces were in full recall to Menzoberranzan when Aurbangras was killed by the copper wyrms. Surely that fact will not serve Lolth well in her dealings with the goddess Tiamat.”

“The grandson of Dantrag Baenre was astride one of those white dragons in the last battle,” a clearly perturbed Matron Mother Baenre replied with an open sneer.

“One of only a handful of our people remaining in the Silver Marches,” Byrtyn argued. “Had our army been on the field below-”

“The outcome of the dragon fight would not have changed,” Matron Mother Baenre snapped.

“But the Spider Queen’s position before Tiamat would have been strengthened. Do not run from errors, Matron Mother. Let us perhaps examine together how we might have better served Lady Lolth.”

And there it was, Mez’Barris knew. She could barely contain her giggle. The words “examine together” when uttered by any matron mother to another matron mother, particularly at the table of the Ruling Council, were an accusation of failure far more than they were an offer of coordination. Those words stood among the oldest of drow verbal daggers. Drow matron mothers never “examined together” anything, other than the corpse of a third matron mother they had temporarily allied against and deposed.

The whole of the Council Chamber moved on edge, then, Mez’Barris noted to her delight, and even the wretched Quenthel seemed shaken, more like the old, ridiculous, and weak Quenthel Baenre whom Mez’Barris had known before this recent and inexplicable transformation had come over her.

Quenthel’s nervousness lasted only a heartbeat, though, and she settled back comfortably and managed an amused look at Byrtyn Fey, like a silky cat looking into a rat hole with a promise that the occupant would not avoid the dinner table for long.

The room’s door banged open then and a pair of towering creatures, humanoid and massively muscular but with a dog’s face and a goat’s horns, and an extra set of arms sporting giant pincers that could scissor a drow in half, stormed into the chamber.

Behind them came a slithering, naga-like creature, its lower body that of a serpent and upper body that of a shapely, naked woman, except with six arms all sporting axes or swords of various cruel design.

The matron mothers all started, some even rising, some beginning spells-except for the matron mother and Sos’Umptu, and of course, the impotent puppet, Darthiir Do’Urden.

Mez’Barris quickly calmed at the sight of the demons, the two glabrezu and the greater female, whom she recognized as either Marilith or Aishapra-this type of powerful demon looked too much alike for her to be certain.

“They are here with the blessings of Lolth,” Sos’Umptu explained.

“Forgive my intrusion,” said the female demon, and Mez’Barris knew from the voice that it was indeed Marilith, the greatest of her kind. Mez’Barris recalled then, as well, that yes, it was Marilith whose left breast was considerably larger than her right for some symbolic reason that no drow had ever discerned. Demons of this power could easily rectify such physical deformities if they so chose. Mez’Barris knew, too, from the female demon’s tone and personality, that the vile and dangerous creature cared nothing for forgiveness, nor would ever offer any.

“I learned of your council and wanted to see how many of the ruling matron mothers were still known to me,” Marilith went on. “It has been more than a century. . a fleeting time, no doubt, but I care so little for drow that my memories of you are not forefront in my thoughts.”

Screeches, like those of great birds, echoed out in the hall behind her and her glabrezu guards, and strange creatures that seemed half-human and half-vulture-vrocks, they were called, hulking and vicious, and standing nearly as tall as the ten-foot glabrezu-stalked into view along with a couple of clearly and understandably nervous dark elf sentries.