Томас Рейд - Insurrection

«That will hold him,» one of the wizards claimed.

Quenthel gasped in surprise, looking back and forth between Jeggred and Faeryl.

«Yes, Quenthel,» Faeryl called out. «He has been rendered helpless. He cannot extract you from this.»

Quenthel returned her glare to Faeryl as the soldiers fanned out, moving to surround her but staying well back. Many of the males aimed crossbows at her, and the wizards and priestesses all seemed ready to invoke various spells, should the Mistress of the Academy decide to bolt or attack. The snakes of Quenthel's whip writhed in agitation, snapping at anyone who stepped too close.

«You insolent little whelp of a drow,» Quenthel snarled, shaking in fury as she looked at Faeryl, who only smiled sweetly in return. «All that time being so agreeable, and it was a lie. I knew you were being too accommodating. I should have let Jeggred have his way with you back in the wilds. I will see you flayed for this.»

«That might prove difficult, Mistress Quenthel,» Faeryl said, putting as much sarcasm as possible into her tone when she came to the honorific. «If you give this situation just a moment's thought, you will see, I'm sure, that you are overmatched. It really would be better if you surrendered this foolish standoff.»

Quenthel blinked, weighing the ambassador's words. Finally, reluctantly, she realized that she was overmatched and nodded.

«Excellent, Mistress,» Faeryl said. «Now, I think it would be a wise idea for you to lay down your arms and all of those wonderful trinkets I know you carry about yourself.»

Quenthel's glare deepened, but she carefully set the whip down at her feet.

«Come on, Quenthel,» Faeryl admonished. «I've been traveling with you for several tendays now. I know about the ring and the rod and all the other things. Don't make this more difficult.»

Sighing, Quenthel began to remove the various items, and when Faeryl seemed satisfied that the high priestess could no longer be a significant threat, she ordered her to step away from the pile of goods.

As others swooped in and gathered up Quenthel's possessions, Faeryl stepped closer to Quenthel, smiling again.

«I am sorry it had to be this way, Quenthel,» she said, «but I'm sure you understand.»

Quenthel, who had regained some of her composure, smiled right back.

«Oh, I quite understand, Ambassador. My sister will be highly disappointed when she learns what you have done, but I wouldn't worry too much about that. It's a shame though … if there's one thing Triel will miss more than her sister, it would have to be her beloved son.»

Faeryl didn't let her smile falter, but Quenthel thought the ambassador might have swallowed just a little nervously at the thought of the Matron Mother of House Baenre hearing the news that her draegloth had been destroyed.

Faeryl shrugged and said, «That's a worry for another time, Mistress. Now, if you will be so kind as to walk with me, I'll introduce Matron Mother Drisinil Melarn and my own mother, Mistress Ssipriina Zauvirr. They are most interested in hearing more about how you planned to steal our provisions and take them back to Men-zoberranzan with you.»

«Those goods belong in Menzoberranzan. They are ours by right,» Quenthel said, angry all over again.

In the back of her mind, a part of her told herself that she really did need to learn to control her anger better, but she didn't want to listen.

Faeryl laughed cynically. «You didn't actually think I was going to let you steal from my House, did you?» she said. «From my city? You are mad!» Taking a calming breath, the ambassador continued, ice dripping from her voice, «Look around you, Mistress Baenre. This is what's left of your precious stores of goods.»

For the first time, Quenthel realized that the rows and rows of shelves and bins were mostly empty. There was nothing in there to take. She had been thoroughly tricked, from the beginning of the journey, perhaps, played for the fool that she was. The betrayal was not unexpected, and Quenthel knew that had the roles been reversed, House Baenre would have carried the situation to the same conclusion. What galled her was that whatever foolish Baenre whelp had been responsible for the logistics of the deal had never bothered to put enough troops loyal to the House in place to ensure that nothing like this ever happened. Quenthel suspected that whatever loyal forces had been here had been summarily rounded up and executed when the crisis grew. The fact that no one was there now was a testament to that.

«What have you done with it?» Quenthel demanded, half interested in the answer and half stalling for time so she could assess the situation better.

Though there were a number of drow troops there, there was still a chance she could escape—though it would require leaving Jeggred behind.

Faeryl laughed, «Oh, don't worry. Black Claw made a tidy profit recently. The stock has been put to a far better use than what you intended, Mistress.»

The mockery in the girl's tone was unmistakable.

«That's enough, Faeryl,» Ssipriina Zauvirr said, taking a couple of steps forward. «There's no need to ruin the surprise we have in store for our guests.»

As Faeryl lowered her head slightly in deference to her mother, she made her face stony smooth, but Quenthel knew that behind that facade, the Zauvirr daughter was delighted to have thwarted her.

Matron Mother Melarn also stepped forward—or rather, two heavily armed drow stepped forward, escorting her between them. She still frowned deeply, but she said nothing.

Ssipriina Zauvirr strolled halfway toward Quenthel and stopped.

«When my son managed to get into private contact with Faeryl and she was able to tell us what you were planning, we of course wasted no time in preparing for your arrival. I have to say, I am more than a little surprised that you actually expected to slip a storehouse full of goods out of the city, out from under our noses, without us noticing, but that's really of no consequence. As my daughter indicated, House Zauvirr has put the profits to a far better use.»

Quenthel blinked in confusion.

«House Zauvirr?» she asked. «You are merely the caretakers. This company belongs to Houses Melarn and Baenre.» The high priestess turned to the other matron mother and said, «Are you permitting this? Are you content to let these deceitful, low-class merchants make the decisions for your investments? You are far more trusting than I.»

Drisinil Melarn didn't say a word, though she grimaced slightly when Quenthel spoke to her, Ssipriina Zauvirr laughed, a quick, bitter sound.

«Oh, she is far from content, Quenthel Baenre, but she has little choice in the matter.»

Quenthel realized just why Matron Mother Melarn seemed so unhappy. The two drow flanking her were not escorts but guards.

«You would dare?» Quenthel asked. «You have laid hands on the matron mother of a high House of your own city and hope to get away with it? How can you expect to survive, when. . when—»

The high priestess clamped her mouth shut, unwilling to finish the thought.

When Lolth will not grant you spells.

«Oh, not to worry,» Ssipriina said, smiling even more deeply than before. «With the funds I've made selling off your valuables, I have ensured that House Zauvirr will never again kneel before the likes of you two.»

Her eyes glittered red as she finished, and Quenthel saw pure hatred burning in them.

«Captain Xornbane, if you please?» Ssipriina called. All around the drow gathering, appearing from nowhere, a horde of gray dwarves stood in a large circle, brandishing wicked-looking axes and heavy crossbows. Clearly, they had been standing there for a few moments but had simply been invisible. The duergar looked confident, ready for anything.