R.A. Salvatore - Maestro

“Some are surely trying to determine when a rival will be properly weakened by serving on such a patrol,” Minolin Fey said, and both of the others turned unappreciative glares her way, a not-subtle reminder of her lowly place in such powerful company.

“The seats will suffice and the votes will be binding, by the word of Lolth,” Yvonnel said.

Quenthel considered that for a moment then nodded. She, Sos’Umptu, and Matron Mother Darthiir would be easy enough to arrange, of course.

“We cannot outlaw secretive internecine war,” she replied. “Without personal instructions from a handmaiden or communion with Lolth herself, none would accept our authority to make such a dramatic change in the customs of Menzoberranzan.”

“But we can demand that all participate in the defense of Menzoberranzan,” Yvonnel said. “And we must shut the city down, and quickly, both physically and magically. No dimensional doorways, no divination from without. The physical ways in are few, and we can defend them, but we deal with demon lords now, and so must defeat any of their magical attempts to breach the city before they even try.”

“That is a tremendous task.”

“It is, and it will require diligence and great attention from all priests and wizards alike.”

“And so we name Tsabrak Xorlarrin as Archmage of Menzoberranzan,” Quenthel reasoned, nodding.

“Tsabrak, who holds close ties to House Do’Urden now,” Yvonnel agreed. “His sister, his brother, his cousins. Have you found any contact with Matron Mother Zeerith?”

“She is with Bregan D’aerthe, I am certain. An associate of Jarlaxle’s, Braelin Janquay, delivered the message that High Priestess Kiriy Xorlarrin might be interested in returning to the city if a proper position in a fitting House could be found for her.”

“High Priestess of House Do’Urden, of course-or eventual matron mother.”

“I prefer her younger sister Saribel,” Quenthel said. “Tiago will keep that one close and she is more easily controlled. I have never been fond of Kiriy. She is headstrong and convinced that her heart is ever in league with the wishes of the Spider Queen.”

Yvonnel smiled and nodded. “We are blessed,” she said with uncharacteristic kindness. “The illithid has given us both insight to the ways and memories of the Eternal. Mine is more pure, of course, but I am pleased by the insights of the Matron Mother of Menzoberranzan.”

Quenthel leaned away a bit, staring skeptically at the beautiful young woman, even shaking her head in denial.

“I thought I was to serve you,” Quenthel dared to say “perhaps even from the halls of Arach-Tinilith in the Academy.”

“We are stronger right now with you as matron mother,” Yvonnel replied. “We, House Baenre, and the city we control. Call the Ruling Council together-make it not a request, but a command. Demand unity in securing the city and so execute that unity. Declare the new Archmage Tsabrak, and remind any who balk at the proclamation that he was the voice of Lolth in darkening the skies above the Silver Marches.”

“There will still be an attack on House Do’Urden,” Quenthel warned.

“Hunzrin and Melarn,” Yvonnel replied. “Undoubtedly. And I am counting on it.”

She laughed again and skipped out of the room, Minolin Fey in her wake, leaving Quenthel dumbfounded and off-balance, which had been the whole point, Quenthel realized after a moment of reflection.

Back in her own chambers, Yvonnel dismissed Minolin Fey, secured her room with multiple glyphs and wards, and fell into a deep communion with the Abyssal Plane, using the imparted memories of Yvonnel the Eternal to formulate a demonic name.

She watched the summoned form materialize in front of her, like a great, half-melted candle of mud, tentacle arms dripping with Abyssal goo.

Yvonnel, so gloriously groomed and perfectly formed, winced at the grotesque handmaiden, and even more so when the yochlol said, “You summoned me, daughter of House Baenre?” in that watery, gurgling, mud-like voice.

“Could you not assume a more … pleasing form, Yiccardaria?” Yvonnel asked.

The handmaiden giggled, which sounded very much like water bubbling through a thick muddy puddle, and waggled her tentacles about as she turned, spinning round and round. Faster and faster she twirled, and the movement seemed more blurry still from the sheen of brown mist the handmaiden left in her turning wake. The brown cloud settled as she stopped, and now she was a drow woman, beautiful in form, delicate and naked and with long, thick white hair that hung to her waist.

“Do you approve?” Her voice was no longer muddy, but clear as a shining silver bell.

“I do,” Yvonnel said. “And you have my appreciation, Handmaiden, both for the transformation and for coming to my call.”

“I would not have come, were it not the will of the Spider Queen.”

Yvonnel bowed again.

“We have much to discuss,” Yiccardaria said, moving over and running the back of her fingers gently over Yvonnel’s soft cheek.

It was a test, Yvonnel knew, to see if she could sort through what her eyes and nose and skin were telling her-to hold onto the truth that this was a lump of smelly goo teasing her.

“I had much I wished to discuss with you,” Yvonnel replied, taking the yochlol by the wrist and moving her hand aside. “That is why I requested your presence, after all. But it would seem that you come with information that you believe I should know.”

“Astute,” the yochlol said, pulling away with a giggle. “I approve of your transformation and will relay my pleasure to the Spider Queen. Perhaps more so …” She reached to touch the beautiful young drow woman again.

“It was Gromph who brought Demogorgon to Menzoberranzan,” Yvonnel said, trying to keep focused on the matters at hand. She had never known a handmaiden to behave like this, and wasn’t quite sure what it might be about, beyond her initial inkling that the spy for Lolth-every handmaiden was a spy for Lolth, first and foremost-was testing her.

And she couldn’t deny her body’s reactions to the exquisite creature.

She thought the yochlol was trying to seduce her as a test of her willpower-a ridiculous challenge indeed for one of Yvonnel’s understanding and intelligence. But then she understood: The handmaiden was testing her corporeal body, not her willpower, to see if this form Yvonnel wore was real or illusion. The physical reactions, involuntary and ignorant of willpower, would reveal that to the spy.

The handmaiden laughed again and danced away, staring knowingly at the young Yvonnel, whose nipples had visibly hardened under the soft shirt.

“Gromph summoned Demogorgon,” Yvonnel said again, this time more sternly.

“Not without help,” Yiccardaria replied. “Great help, and of most of which the Archmage remains unaware. Understand that Gromph Baenre did more than summon Demogorgon.” She laughed again, and Yvonnel had to force herself not to lean forward too eagerly.

“Let me tell you of the Faerzress,” Yiccardaria said.

“I know …” Yvonnel started to interrupt, but the handmaiden didn’t slow.

“Of what it was and what it is, and of the demon lords who have come through. The Lady of Chaos wishes you to know these things, and the source of the ritual Archmage Gromph performed.”

“And of how it might benefit … me,” Yvonnel said with a wicked grin, and now it was the yochlol’s turn to offer a respectful bow.

Yiccardaria spoke for a long time after that, revealing Lolth’s brilliant deception of Kimmuriel Oblodra, and thus, Kimmuriel’s subsequent deception of Gromph.

“The barrier of the Faerzress is wounded,” she explained, “and so the demon lords have passed through, though they’ll not so easily return. And if they do return …” she paused and laughed and let Yvonnel sort out the logical conclusion.