Ричард Бейкер - Condemnation

“Lolth preserve us,” Triel muttered, and shivered with true fear.

In terms of numbers of troops, magical might, and sheer wealth, the other Houses had always possessed the wherewithal to destroy House Baenre if they chose to unite against the First House. What they had never possessed was the blessing of the goddess for an act of such impropriety. If the Spider Queen returned her attention to Menzoberranzan and destroyed the Second through the Eighth Houses for their presumption the day after they obliterated House Baenre, well, Baenre would hardly be helped by it. Without Lolth’s wrath to deter the ambitions of the other great Houses, a unified attack against Baenre seemed more like an inevitability than a possibility.

The trick, mused Triel, is to keep the other Houses from settling thorny issues such as who would be First House after Baenre’s fall, and tempt some of the smaller Houses with the places of the larger ones.

If Houses such as Xorlarrin or Agrach Dyrr could be convinced that they would advance with more certainty by supporting Baenre against a conspiracy of Barrison Del’Armgo and Faen Tlabbar than they would by turning against the First House, then House Baenre could withstand almost any threat from its lesser neighbors.

She paused at the door to the chapel, examining the notion with acute distaste. Could she really feel that House Baenre needed allies? The old Matron Baenre had not governed with anyone’s consent. She had ruled the city because she was so strong no one could contemplate resisting her will.

Triel scowled and gestured at the chapel guards, who pulled open the doors and bowed before her.

Her sister Sos’Umptu awaited her in the chapel. Sos’Umptu had Quenthel’s height, but took after Triel’s thoughtful reserve as opposed to the willfulness of Quenthel or her unlamented sister Bladen’Kerst. Sos’Umptu possessed a calculated, deliberate maliciousness that she kept in careful check, never picking a feud she could not win. She briefly lowered her eyes, the minimal gesture of respect Triel’s position demanded, then straightened.

“Any news from the army, eldest sister?” she asked in a soft voice.

“Not as yet. Zal’therra tells me that Mez’Barris has dispatched a small force to go ahead and seize a strategic pass in the path of the duergar army, which seems sensible enough. The rest of the Army of the Black Spider follows as fast as it may.”

“It is a difficult situation. I wonder if perhaps you should have led the army in person.”

Triel frowned. She was not accustomed to having her actions openly scrutinized by anyone, but if she couldn’t survive the criticism of her family, how could she hope to cow the other matrons?

“Given the unusual situation,” Triel replied, “I felt it wisest to remain close to the city.”

“Perhaps. The problem is simple, of course—if the army is defeated, the blame will naturally attach to you. If the army triumphs, you have made a hero of Mez’Barris Del’Armgo.”

“As well as Zal’therra and Andzrel,” Triel pointed out. “I admit I have more to lose than to gain, but I will not second-guess myself now.”

She studied the chapel, gazing up at the great magical image depicting the Queen of Spiders. While Sos’Umptu watched, Triel performed a perfunctory obeisance.

“You have not observed the goddess’s rites as closely as you might over the last few tendays,” Sos’Umptu said.

The goddess has not observed us for far longer, Triel found herself thinking. She hurriedly thrust the blasphemous thought from her mind, horrified that something so irreverent could ferment in her head. She maintained her outward calm with the ease of long practice, returning her attention to her sister.

“We are confronted by yet another challenge,” Triel said. “The Masters of Sorcere clamor for Gromph’s replacement. House Baenre has placed archmages on Sorcere’s throne as we liked for many hundreds of years, but this time, I am weighing the value of supporting the candidate of another House for the position. It might be ... expedient.”

Sos’Umptu’s eyes widened by the thickness of a blade, and she said, “You seek my counsel?”

“As Gromph has absented himself, and Quenthel is far away, I find that the children of my formidable mother are in short supply. Very few females—and even fewer males—understand the lessons Mother taught us.” Triel snorted in irritation. “Not even all our siblings, for that matter. Bladen’Kerst understood nothing but strength and cruelty, and Vendes was simply murderous. I have need of a sharp mind, a subtle mind, trained by my mother, and it occurs to me that I have allowed you to lurk in this chapel far too long.” Triel moved a half-step closer and hardened her expression. “Understand that you advise me at my pleasure, and do not mistake consideration for indecision. I will brook no questioning of my right to rule.”

Sos’Umptu nodded and said, “Very well. I think we should presume that Gromph has been killed. He would not have lightly abandoned his duties, and there are at least two reasons someone might have killed him. Either someone wanted to strike against the archmage himself, or someone wanted to strike against the leading wizard of House Baenre. If the former, well, whomever becomes archmage next will either be the culprit, or the next target. Why should we hurry to place a Baenre wizard weaker than Gromph into that position, when there is at least some chance we might lose whomever we promote?”

“I don’t like the idea of surrendering such an important post to another family, but I like the idea of losing another skilled wizard even less,” Triel mused. “Especially when we might forge a stronger tie with another House by allowing them to advance their candidate, who would then become the target of whatever power was strong enough to destroy Gromph.”

“I don’t understand,” Sos’Umptu replied. “You seek allies?”

“It occurs to me that we might do well to ally ourselves with a great House of middle rank, perhaps two,” said Triel. “It seems a sound precaution against any effort by the Second or Third Houses to rally the rest in common cause against us.”

Sos’Umptu stroked her chin and said, “You believe matters have become as dangerous as that? Mother would never have agreed to such a thing.”

“Mother lived in a different time,” Triel said. “Do not compare me to her again.”

Triel fixed her eyes on her sister until the priestess dropped her gaze. Sos’Umptu was clever, but not strong. If she joined forces with Quenthel, or maybe a cabal of the more capable cousins such as Zal’therra, she would be a threat to Triel, but until then she could be trusted—within reason.

“What if Gromph’s assassination was an attack on House Baenre,” Triel asked,

“and not simply a means to open the post of archmage?”

“In that case, we would be well advised to raise another Baenre wizard over Sorcere. Failing to do so would make us seem weak, and if the other Houses perceive us as vulnerable, they might be tempted to try the very thing you fear.”

“Your advice does not provide me much comfort, Sos’Umptu,” Triel grated. “And I am concerned, not afraid.”

“There is another possibility,” Sos’Umptu said. “Delay. Maintain that Gromph is still Archmage of Menzoberranzan for as long as possible. For that matter, spread the story that you have sent him off on a special mission and he will not be back for a while. The longer we delay, the more likely it is that events will make the circumstances of his disappearance clearer. If the Army of the Black Spider finds victory in the tunnels to the south, then your position might be strengthened enough that you can do as you will with the archmage’s post.”