Insurrection

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 pla

«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 begi

«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 pla

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.

Quenthel felt the pit of her stomach leap into her throat, but before she could take any action she felt an invisible force seize her and hold her motionless. She couldn't move a muscle and saw that Drisinil Melarn was in a similar condition.

«Shall we kill them now?» one of the duergar asked, stepping forward.