And Gromph no longer had a Staff of Power to sacrifice in order to win.
Another fireball exploded along the parapet of Agrach Dyrr's wall.
"What are you thinking now, Yasraena?" he asked softly.
Gromph knew that the Matron Mother of House Agrach Dyrr already would have learned of the lichdrow's fall; likely she was scrying Gromph even then.
Like Gromph, Yasraena would know that the lichdrow was not fully dead until and unless his phylactery was destroyed.
"Did he confide its location to you, Matron Mother?" he whispered.
"Archmage?" Nauzhror asked.
Gromph ignored Nauzhror. He thought it unlikely that the lichdrow would have shared the location of his phylactery with Yasraena. He imagined that the relationship between the lichdrow and the Matron Mother would have been a tense one, not unlike that between Gromph and his sister Triel. Likely, Yasraena no more knew the location of the lichdrow's phylactery than did
Gromph. But like Gromph, Yasraena would look first to her own House, the most likely hiding place.
She already would be looking for it, Gromph knew. He had little time. He would have to find a way through the defensive wards of one of Menzoberranzan's great Houses while it was under siege and while its Matron Mother and her underpriestesses-all once more armed with spells from Lolth-would be awaiting him.
He almost laughed. Almost.
"Come, Nauzhror," Gromph said. "We return to my sanctum. The war for the city is won, but there is a battle or two yet to be fought."
Prath, he sent to the young Baenre apprentice. Meet us in my offices.
Yasraena stood over the marble scrying basin and watched the image of Gromph Baenre waver and fade as he and his fellow mage teleported away from the ruined bazaar. There was no sign of the lichdrow. The undead wizard's body had been utterly destroyed.
But not his soul, she reminded herself, not his essence, and that reminder gave her hope.
Though her heart pounded in her chest, Yasraena kept her expression outwardly calm. With the lichdrow. . absent, she was the true and only head of House Agrach Dyrr. It would not do to show alarm.
Two of her four daughters, Larikal and Esvena, the Third and Fourth Daughters of the House and each a lesser priestess of Lolth, stood to either side of her. Her First and Second Daughters were occupied supervising the defenses of the House against the besieging Xorlarrin forces, so it fell to Larikal and Esvena to gather intelligence and spy on the House's enemies. Both were taller than Yasraena, and Larikal bordered on heavyset, though neither was as strongly built as their mother. But both had inherited Yasraena's ambition. Both were as eager as any drow priestess to kill their way to the top of their House.
Three males too stood in the chamber, on the other side of the basin. All were graduates of
Sorcere and apprentices of the lichdrow. They seemed stunned that their undead master had been defeated. Slack hands hung limply from the sleeves of their piwafwis. Yasraena saw fear in their stances, uncertainty in their hooded red eyes. It disgusted her but she expected little better from males.
"The Archmage has retreated to his sanctum," said Larikal. "He is beyond our ability to scry."
Yasraena vented her frustration on her daughter. "You state the obvious as though it were profound. Be silent unless you have something useful to say, fool."
Larikal's thin-lipped mouth hardened in anger but her crimson eyes found the floor. The male wizards shifted uneasily, shared surreptitious glances. Yasraena gripped her tentacle rod so tightly in her hand it made her fingers ache. She would have strangled the lichdrow herself, had he stood before her.
Look where his plotting had gotten her House!
She stared at the dark water of the stone basin and tried to think.
The battle for the city was over, or would be soon. When the great Houses mustered their priestesses-priestesses again capable of casting spells-the tide of battle would turn rapidly. The duergar and tanarukks would be routed. Her House would stand alone against the combined might of all of Menzoberranzan.
Despite the dire situation, Yasraena held onto hope. After all, House Agrach Dyrr had single handedly annihilated several noble Houses in recent centuries, both under her stewardship and that of her sister Auro'pol, the previous Matron Mother. The Dyrr knew how to fight.
For a heartbeat, she entertained other options.
She could flee the city, but where would she go? Would she become a Houseless vagabond,
wandering the Underdark or the outer planes with her hands out? The thought appalled her. She was the Matron Mother of House Agrach Dyrr, one of the great Houses of Menzoberranzan, not some beggar!
No, she would live or die with her House. She would withstand the siege, find a way to make her House useful to another great House, and ultimately arrange a truce. House Agrach Dyrr would be forced to step down from the Ruling Council, of course, and would have to endure a few centuries of ignominy, but she and it would survive. That was her only goal. The House would climb back onto the council in time.
But to realize her hope, she needed the lichdrow. Without him, the House would not withstand the siege much longer. She knew that the undead wizard would reincorporate in only a matter of hours so long as his phylactery remained safe.
Unfortunately, no one seemed to know exactly where the phylactery might be. Her own divinations had been unable to locate it, though she assumed it to be somewhere in House Agrach
Dyrr-the lichdrow spent virtually all of his existence within the House. He would not have secreted the phylactery anywhere else. Yasraena knew that Gromph Baenre would make the same assumption and would come for it. She had to find it first, or at least prevent Gromph
Baenre from finding it at all. To do the latter, she needed to know what Gromph Baenre was doing at all times.
In the past, her daughters' and the House's wizards' scrying spells had been unable to pierce the wards around Gromph Baenre's sanctum within Sorcere, despite frequent attempts. But they had to find a way to do it, and so they would. Yasraena needed to know when the Archmage was coming.
She looked across the basin to Geremis, the aging, bald apprentice to the lichdrow. At that moment, his hairless head irritated her beyond measure.
"Scour your memories for any clue, Geremis," she commanded. "Or I will extract your brain and sift it with my own fingers. Where would the lichdrow have hidden his phylactery?"
Visibly shaking, Geremis shook his head and did not meet her eyes.
"Matron Mother, the lichdrow shared such information with no one. Please. Our divinations have-"
"Enough!" shouted Yasraena, and stomped her foot on the stone floor. "The time for excuses is past. Larikal, you and Geremis organize a team to search the House. By hand, on all fours if necessary! Perhaps an ordinary search can find what spells cannot. Keep me informed on the hour."
She knew that Geremis sometimes shared Larikal's bed. Both were ugly, and the thought of their coupling made her ill.
"Yes, Matron Mother," answer Larikal, not daring to argue. To Geremis, Larikal commanded,
"Follow me, male."
Both hurried from the scrying chamber, eager to get out of the way of Yasraena's wrath.
After they had gone, Yasraena looked to Esvena. "You, find a way to penetrate the wards around Gromph Baenre's sanctum within Sorcere." She eyed the two remaining males, both homely, middle aged wizards; she did not even know their names. "You two, assist her. And bolster our own defenses. If you cannot get through the Archmage's wards, or if he or any
Xorlarrin piece of dung breaches ours, I will be displeased."
She let the threat linger in the air.
One of the males cleared his throat and began, "Matron Mother-"
Yasraena lashed out with her tentacle rod. Two of the black, rubbery arms at its end extended themselves and wrapped around the throat of the wizard. He gagged and clutched at the tentacles.
His red eyes went wide; his mouth moved but no sound emerged. With a mental command,
Yasraena ordered the rod to squeeze the male's throat harder.
"You will speak only when I command it," she said and looked into the face of the other male.
He did not meet her gaze. "As I said, the time for excuses is past. Do what needs to be done."
Esvena looked on with a cold smile.
With her free hand, Yasraena backhanded her daughter across the mouth. The younger priestess stumbled back, bleeding from her lip and glaring hate at her mother.
"Do not dare smile in my presence," Yasraena spat. "The fate of our House is at stake. Indulge your petty pleasures after we have defeated our enemies."
Esvena wiped the blood from her lip and lowered her eyes. "Forgive me, Matron Mother," she said.
Yasraena knew the apology to be insincere but would have expected nothing else. She released the male from her rod. He fell to his knees, before the scrying basin, gasping and choking.
"We all live or die with this House," Yasraena announced. "Should I so much as suspect treachery or half-efforts, you will be flayed to death, resurrected, and flayed anew. That process will continue indefinitely until my anger is sated. Do not doubt my resolve."
She eyed her daughter, and Esvena's eyes showed real fear. The males did their best to grovel.
"Proceed with the attempt to scry the Archmage's offices," Yasraena said, "and do not stop until you succeed. Gromph Baenre will be coming and I must know when. I will check back on the hour."
As she turned to leave the scrying chamber, a tremor shook the House, a byproduct of the
Xorlarrin onslaught.
Telepathically connected to her First and Second daughters through the magical amulets they wore, she projected, Anival, what is happening?
Her First Daughter's calm mental voice returned, Xorlarrin ogre shock-troops bearing a magically augmented battering ram attempted the gates. All of them are dead and the ram ruined. The wards hold, and the Xorlarrin cannot gain even the moat. They appear to be regrouping. Another House may join them soon, Matron Mother.
Yasraena knew, but to her First Daughter she replied with only, Very well. Continue on and keep me apprised.
Yasraena did not know how long her House could withstand the continued siege of the Xorlarrin wizards. Wards and protective spells sheathed the House's moat, bridge, and adamantine wall-some of them Yasraena had cast, some her forbears, many the lichdrow-but wards could be broken. So far, the Xorlarrin had not been able to breach them, but sooner or later, given enough time, they probably would.
Yasraena silently prayed to Lolth that the wards would hold for just a short time longer, long enough for the lichdrow to reincorporate and again stand at her side. That was all she would need to save the House. Unless. .
Perhaps there was another way. It galled her, but it might save her House.
She would contact Triel Baenre. At the very least, she might be able to give her House more time.
Without another word, she left her underlings behind and headed for her private chambers. As she exited the scrying chamber, she heard Esvena berating the male wizards.
Chapter Five
Traveling the rocky, uneven terrain proved difficult. Pits, gorges, and smoking lakes of acid forced Pharaun and his three traveling companions to weave a circuitous route. They picked their way around gorges and holes, between the tall, black spires of petrified legs. Pharaun particularly disliked walking in the shadow of the petrified spider legs. He felt at any moment that they would return to life and catch them up in their embrace. Spiders and webs thronged the petrified limbs, darting into cracks and crevices.
The wind fought against them as they moved, and it whistled through the songspider webs.
Pharaun was sweating. He felt exposed.
"Mistress," he said to Quenthel. "The passage of hours may bring a dawn. We are under open sky."
Pharaun had no desire to experience the blinding light of another sunrise like he had seen in the World Above.
Quenthel did not look at him. One of her whip vipers-Yngoth, Pharaun was certain-hovered near her ear for a moment. Quenthel nodded.
"A sun will rise over Lolth's Pits," she said. "But it is dim, red, and distant. You have nothing to fear, Master Mizzrym. We will find traveling under its light as easy as traveling by night."
Jeggred snorted and asked, "Do the snakes of your whip fill the holes in your understanding of the Spider Queen's realm, aunt?"
Danifae snickered, or perhaps it was a cough.
Over her shoulder, Quenthel answered, "Sometimes, nephew. They are demons-bound by me-
and have some knowledge of the Lower Planes that I require them to impart. Perhaps Mistress
Danifae can fill in the rest of our understanding?"
She stopped, turned, and looked at Danifae.
The battle-captive did not lower her hood. "When I have something to add," she said, "I will offer it."
Quenthel smiled at her nephew and started again to walk.
"Perhaps we should use spells to transport us, Mistress?" Pharaun suggested to Quenthel,
though he did not know exactly where they were going.
Quenthel shook her head and replied, "No, mage. This is the Spider Queen's realm, and she wants us to experience it.