“Why would I not, dear sister?”
Quenthel leaped from the chair, sending it skidding out behind her. Her eyes flashed with outrage as she corrected him once more, spitting every syllable, “Matron Mother.”
“Yes,” said Gromph. “Matron Mother of Menzoberranzan.” He rose to face her directly, and matched her unblinking stare with his own. “Never forget that.”
“You seem to be the one-”
Gromph rolled right over the thought. “And act the part of it,” he said evenly.
Quenthel’s eyes flashed again, her hands clenched and opened as if readying for a spell, but she quickly composed herself.
Gromph nodded and gave a little laugh. “If the Spider Queen is angry with you and you show any weakness, your doom will fall,” he warned. “The World Above, and below, is in flux, Lady Lolth’s own designs have only begun to spin, and she will brook no weakness now.”
“Menzoberranzan thrives under my leadership!”
“Does it?”
“House Xorlarrin has settled Gauntlgrym. The ancient Forge is fired anew, and to the benefit of Menzoberranzan!”
“And House Barrison Del’Armgo?” Gromph asked slyly. “Do they view the move of Xorlarrin as one that strengthens the hand of Matron Mother Quenthel or as one that opens an opportunity for them here in the City of Spiders? You have removed a threat to them, have you not?”
“Their enemies the Xorlarrins are not far-Matron Zeerith is still within the city,” Quenthel protested.
“But when she goes and the compound here is abandoned, as is soon to occur?”
“They will not be far.”
“And if Matron Mez’Barris Armgo offers Zeerith a better deal than you have offered?”
Quenthel slid back into her chair, mulling over that dangerous notion. A long while passed before she looked up across the desk at Gromph, who stood towering above her now.
“Take heart, dear sister,” Gromph said lightly. “We do not even know the source of Lady Lolth’s … shriek. Perhaps it is naught but a residual scream of frustration over some event in the realm of the gods that has no bearing upon us whatsoever. Perhaps it was not, is not, directed at you or at House Baenre or at Menzoberranzan at all. Who can tell with these gods?”
Quenthel nodded hopefully at that.
“They will likely have engaged the yochlol by now,” she explained, rising once more and turning for the door. “Let us go and get our answers.”
“You go,” Gromph bade her. He already had his answers, after all. “I have my work here-I will remain in House Baenre this day and throughout tomorrow in case I am needed.”
That seemed to satisfy the matron mother and she took her leave, and Gromph remained standing until she had closed the door behind her. Then he sat, with a profound sigh.
He did not need a handmaiden to enlighten him. Another source, more ancient than he, had already told him of the stirrings of the Spider Queen and Lolth’s mounting frustration with Menzoberranzan.
Quenthel would return to him shortly, he knew, and she would not much enjoy the journey he had planned for her.
The handmaiden’s muddy voice, bubbly and scratchy all at once, fit its physical appearance, that of a half-melted blob of dirty wax, and with several tentacles waving around just to complete the nightmare.
“You extend, but you are not strong,” the yochlol said, clearly irritated.
Sos’Umptu and Myrineyl exchanged nervous glances.
“We seek only to please the Spider Queen,” Sos’Umptu replied, her voice thick with proper deference and supplication.
“She is pleased by strength,” said the yochlol.
It was a surprising answer to both the priestesses, in that it did not include any variation or synonym to the word “chaos,” which was the very edict and domain of Lady Lolth.
The gooey mass shifted then, turning slowly and thinning as it went. The tentacles shrank and became arms, drow arms, and drow legs, as the creature transformed into the guise of a female drow, naked and glorious. With a wry grin, the handmaiden walked over to Myrineyl and gently lifted her hand to stroke the drow’s cheek and chin.
“Are you afraid, daughter of Matron Mother Quenthel?” the yochlol-turned-drow asked.
Myrineyl, now visibly trembling, swallowed hard.
“We sense that the goddess is in pain, or in distress,” Sos’Umptu interjected, but the yochlol held up a hand to silence the older drow, and never turned her penetrating gaze from Myrineyl. The handmaiden’s hand drifted lower, around Myrineyl’s delicate jaw and gently, lightly, down her neck.
The young Baenre seemed to Sos’Umptu on the verge of panic. Despite her misgivings regarding Myrineyl, Sos’Umptu lifted her hand into Myrineyl’s view and her fingers flashed the word Strength!
Myrineyl firmed up immediately and shook her head. “We are House Baenre,” she said solidly. “If Lady Lolth is in need, we are here to serve. That is all.”
“But you tremble at the touch of a handmaiden,” the yochlol replied. “Are you afraid? Or do I so disgust you?”
Sos’Umptu held her breath, knowing that if Myrineyl answered incorrectly, the yochlol would likely drag her back to the Demonweb Pits for an eternity of torment.
But Myrineyl smiled, then suddenly embraced the handmaiden in a passionate kiss.
Sos’Umptu nodded in admiration, silently congratulating the play of the young priestess.
A long while later, Sos’Umptu and Myrineyl walked side-by-side through the halls of the Baenre main house, on their way to report to the matron mother. They had learned little from the handmaiden directly, which was typical of such encounters.
“Why?” Myrineyl asked quietly.
She didn’t have to elaborate. Sos’Umptu could have allowed her to fail the handmaiden’s test and been rid of her once and for all-and every drow in Menzoberranzan knew that Sos’Umptu Baenre would like nothing more than to be rid of Quenthel’s troublesome and ambitious daughter.
“You thought it a test?” Sos’Umptu replied.
Myrineyl stopped walking and considered the older priestess.
“You think the handmaiden’s call for strength is aimed at you?” Sos’Umptu asked, and scoffed. “Is it inexperience, then, or stupidity that propels you? Or arrogance, perhaps. Yes, that would be a proper failing for a child of Quenthel.”
For many heartbeats, Myrineyl didn’t respond, didn’t even blink, and Sos’Umptu could see her rolling the insult over and over in her thoughts, looking for an angle of counterattack.
“You dare speak of the matron mother with such disrespect?” came the predictable retort.
“The test was for me,” Sos’Umptu declared, and she started walking again, briskly, forcing Myrineyl to move swiftly to catch up. “And as such, for House Baenre wholly.”
Myrineyl, who had, after all, just made love to a half-melted lump of dirty wax, wore a most delicious and perplexed expression.
“When a handmaiden takes the illusion of a drow, does she see through the eyes of the drow?” Sos’Umptu asked.
“What do you mean?”
“The yochlol physically watched me while she faced you, young fool,” Sos’Umptu explained. “She saw my sign to you to show strength as clearly as you did, and that was the whole point of the exercise. Something is wrong. The Spider Queen is greatly upset, and demands strength.”
“Unity,” Myrineyl quietly breathed.
“Unity among the two nobles of House Baenre least likely to provide it.” Myrineyl’s eyes went wide.
“Do you think that the rivalry between the high priestess of House Baenre and the daughter of Matron Mother Quenthel would go unnoticed?” Sos’Umptu replied.
“I remain at Arach-Tinilith, serving Mistress Minolin Fey,” Myrineyl said innocently.
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