R. Salvatore - Night of the Hunter

“Grand claims.”

“An army of tens of thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands,” Quenthel told her. “An army that was put in place for just this day. An army waiting for us to come and prod it forward.”

“And so we will march,” Mez’Barris said. “A collection of all the Houses, or of Do’Urden alone?”

“House Do’Urden is a creation of the Spider Queen’s bite,” the matron mother explained. “For Lady Lolth, this action is personal, a stab at the heart of a fellow goddess. All the Houses will send representatives. I would expect proud Barrison Del’Armgo to complement the warrior ranks. That is at your discretion, of course, though I tell you openly that House Baenre will be well-represented.”

“By Sos’Umptu, who will lead this force,” Mez’Barris reasoned, but Quenthel shook her head.

“Sos’Umptu will not go,” the matron mother said firmly. “She leads House Do’Urden in the interim only, directing Bregan D’aerthe in their work to reclaim the House. We will determine suitable leaders for this force we send, but among them …” She paused and smiled.

Gromph liked that touch, noting that she had Mez’Barris leaning forward in her throne.

“The orcs will carry the fight to the peoples of the Silver Marches and they will be led by …”

Again she paused, holding the thought for many heartbeats. Her delay soon had Mez’Barris’s two children leaning forward eagerly.

“By the son of Barrison Del’Armgo,” the matron mother finished.

“Malagdorl?” Matron Mez’Barris incredulously replied.

“By Tos’un Armgo,” Quenthel corrected, “wielding the sword of Dantrag Baenre, marching in the name of Daermon N’a’shezbaernon, House Do’Urden. We will wreak carnage upon the Silver Marches from behind a throng of orcs. We will repay them for our defeat that century and more ago, and we will ruin the name of the apostate Drizzt, to Lolth’s glory.”

“Drizzt?” Mez’Barris echoed incredulously. “I care not for Drizzt Do’Urden!”

“But the Spider Queen does, and so you shall,” the matron mother replied. “Go and pray and seek guidance, you and Taayrul and all the priestesses of your House. You will see. We are called now, there is no doubt.”

Mez’Barris and her daughter exchanged concerned looks, but Quenthel had them, Gromph knew, and he nodded, silently congratulating his sister, who did indeed seem more like his mother.

“There is no intrigue now among us,” Matron Mother Quenthel said with a snap of finality that brooked no debate. “This is not the time.”

“And so House Baenre gains two seats on the council!” Mez’Barris reminded, a flash of anger in her red eyes.

“No,” the matron mother replied. “Sos’Umptu will not remain as Matron of House Do’Urden.”

“Then who?”

“We will know,” was all that Matron Mother Quenthel would offer.

“But still, House Do’Urden is the matron mother’s creation, and so to the matron mother’s control,” Mez’Barris reasoned.

“If the son of Barrison Del’Armgo performs well, then perhaps Matron Mez’Barris, too, will find alliance in the reconstituted House Do’Urden-if Matron Mez’Barris is wise enough to properly support the quest of Lolth, of course. Perhaps then we will both have gained a second voice on the council.”

With that tempting tidbit, the matron mother bowed and stepped through Gromph’s portal. The archmage lingered in the audience chamber for a few moments, weighing the expressions and reactions of the Armgos.

I will not forget our conspiracy, or your weakness in seeing it through to fruition , Mez’Barris warned him, using her silent handcant instead of speaking aloud in case Quenthel could hear her on the other side of that magical door.

“Go find a handmaiden and discuss the matter,” Gromph replied. “You will learn wisdom in my … weakness, and humility to temper your dangerous pride.”

He bowed and stepped through, and the magical door disappeared.

“We’ll not hold Luskan for long if you insist on keeping such a sizable force here in Menzoberranzan,” Jarlaxle dared to say to Matron Mother Quenthel when she and Gromph paid him a visit in the Do’Urden compound.

“Beniago has the city well in hand,” the matron mother replied. “Tiago is not far away, and the Xorlarrins will march to his call.”

“Tiago is on his way back here, so it is said, although he seems to be taking his time about it,” Jarlaxle replied, rather slyly, tipping his hand that he might know more than his counterparts regarding the movements of the brash young warrior.

Which he did not.

“And are the Xorlarrins not foremost in your plans to march to the east?” Jarlaxle went on. “Surely you will include Matron Zeerith’s garrison among your army.”

Jarlaxle noted Gromph’s angry scowl. The archmage, standing behind the matron mother, even offered Jarlaxle a disgusted shake of his head to warn him away from this line of questioning.

Because he had called Quenthel’s bluff, Jarlaxle realized. Keeping him and Bregan D’aerthe bottled up here at House Do’Urden would certainly leave their well-constructed network in Luskan too weak to resist any pushback from the more conventional forces up there; the other high captains would move on Ship Kurth if they thought they could be rid of Beniago, and more than that, if they thought they could grab their city back from Jarlaxle’s hold.

“I have less than four hundred soldiers,” Jarlaxle elaborated. “In total. More than a hundred are out and about the Underdark and the surface, as scouts and emissaries. You have more than two-thirds of the remaining garrison here.”

Gromph held his breath, as if he expected their sister to lash out at Jarlaxle, the mercenary leader realized, but Quenthel took a long pause and seemed to be seriously considering Jarlaxle’s words.

“That leaves Beniago with less than a hundred to hold our place among a city of thousands-and thousands of veteran pirates and scalawags,” Jarlaxle said.

“It is said that one drow warrior is worth a hundred enemies,” Quenthel replied.

“Many things are said. Few are true,” Jarlaxle dared to press. “Whatever the demands of Lady Lolth in the east, it would not be wise to lose Luskan in our pursuit of her favor. This is our trade route to the surface, and has already brought great wealth and power to Menzoberranzan, including strange and mighty artifacts from the Empire of Netheril. And it is a trade route, though going straight through Q’Xorlarrin, which is solidly controlled by House Baenre.”

“Neither you nor Beniago seem eager to claim that family name,” Quenthel reminded him.

“Would you have us do so?” Jarlaxle asked innocently, knowing the answer, and Quenthel had to concede the point. “Through Luskan, through my organization, you will track the trading, and ultimately control the power, of Q’Xorlarrin.”

“You overestimate your importance to me.”

“Matron Shakti Hunzrin would disagree,” Jarlaxle replied without hesitation, referring to the Matron of the Eleventh House. Even though she was not on the Ruling Council, Shakti Hunzrin carried an inordinate amount of power, because House Hunzrin was among the greatest economic forces in the city, thanks to an elaborate trade network spidering out far beyond Menzoberranzan’s borders.

Matron Mother Quenthel turned and glanced at Gromph, who shrugged almost apologetically before nodding his agreement with Jarlaxle.

“You have secured the alliance with House Barrison Del’Armgo,” Gromph reasoned. “Matron Mez’Barris is fully within your web. Given our stated alliance to House Do’Urden, none will dare move on House Do’Urden at this time without Barrison Del’Armgo’s nod, which Matron Mez’Barris will not dare give.”