brother. We have all the Rights of Accusation.'
Dinin's eyes went wide. Vierna was technically correct; the Rights of Accusation was a privilege reserved for surviving noble children of destroyed houses, wherein the children named their attackers and thus brought the weight of drow justice upon the guilty party. In the continuing back-room intrigue of chaotic Menzoberranzan, though, justice was selectively meted out.
'Accusation?' Dinin stammered, barely able to get the word out of his suddenly dry mouth. 'Have you forgotten which house it was that destroyed our own?'
'It is all the sweeter,' purred his stubborn sister.
'Baenre!' Dinin cried. 'House Baenre, First House of Menzoberranzan! You cannot speak against Baenre. No house, alone or in alliance, will move against them, and Matron Baenre controls the Academy. Where will your force of justice be garnered?
'And what of Bregan D'aerthe?' Dinin reminded her. 'The very band of mercenaries that took us in helped defeat our house.' Dinin stopped abruptly, considering his own words, ever amazed by the paradox, the cruel irony, of drow society.
'You are a male and cannot understand the beauty of Lloth,' Vierna replied. 'Our goddess feeds from this chaos, considers this situation all the sweeter simply because of the many furious ironies.'
'The city will not wage war against House Baenre,' Dinin said flatly.
'It will never come to that!' Vierna snapped back, and again came that wild flash in her red-glowing orbs. 'Matron Baenre is old, my brother. Her time has long past. When Drizzt is dead, as the Spider Queen demands, I will be granted an audience in House Baenre, wherein I… we will make our accusation.'
'Then we will be fed to Baenre's goblin slaves,' Dinin replied dryly.
'Matron Baenre's own daughters will force her out so that the house might regain the Spider Queen's favor,' the excited Vierna went on, ignoring her doubting brother. 'To that end, they will place me in control.'
Dinin could hardly find the words to rebut Vierna's preposterous claims.
'Think of it, my brother,' Vierna went on. 'Envision yourself standing beside me as I preside over the First House of Menzoberranzan!'
'Lloth has promised this to you?'
'Through Triel,' Vierna replied, 'Matron Baenre's oldest daughter, herself Matron Mistress of the Academy.'
Dinin was beginning to catch on. If Triel, much more powerful than Vierna, meant to replace her admittedly ancient mother, she certainly would claim the throne of House Baenre for herself, or at least allow one of her many worthy sisters to take the seat. Dinin's doubts were obvious as he half-sat on one bench, crossing his arms in front of him and shaking his head slowly, back and forth.
'I have no room for disbelievers in my entourage,' Vierna warned.
'Your entourage?' Dinin replied.
'Bregan D'aerthe is but a tool, provided to me so that I might please the goddess,' Vierna explained without hesitation.
'You are insane,' Dinin said before he could find the wisdom to keep the thought to himself. To his relief, though, Vierna did not advance toward him.
'You shall regret those sacrilegious words when our traitorous Drizzt is given to Lloth,' the priestess promised.
'You'll never get near our brother,' Dinin replied sharply, his memories of his previous disastrous encounter with Drizzt still painfully clear. 'And I'll not go along with you to the surface-not against that demon. He is powerful, Vierna, mightier than you can imagine.'
'Silence!' The word carried magical weight, and Dinin found his next planned protests stuck in his throat.
'Mightier?' Vierna scoffed a moment later. 'What do you know of power, impotent male?' A wry smile crossed her face, an expression that made Dinin squirm in his seat. 'Come with me, doubting Dinin,' Vierna bade. She started for a side door in the small chapel, but Dinin made no move to follow.
'Come!' Vierna commanded, and Dinin found his legs moving under him, found himself leaving the single stalagmite mound of the lesser house, then leaving Menzoberranzan altogether, faithfully following his insane sister's every step.
As soon as the two Do'Urdens walked from view, Jarlaxle lowered the curtain in front of his scrying mirror, dispelling the image of the small chapel. He thought he should speak with Dinin soon, to warn the obstinate fighter of the consequences he might face. Jarlaxle honestly liked Dinin and knew that the drow was heading for disaster.
'You have baited her well,' the mercenary remarked to the priestess standing beside him, giving her a devious wink with his left eye-the uncovered one this day.
The female, shorter than Jarlaxle but carrying herself with an undeniable strength, snarled at the mercenary, her contempt obvious.
'My dear Triel,' Jarlaxle cooed.
'Hold your tongue,' Triel Baenre warned, 'or I will tear it out and give it to you, that you might hold it in your hand.'
Jarlaxle shrugged and wisely shifted the conversation back to the business at hand. 'Vierna believes your claim,' he remarked.
'Vierna is desperate,' Triel Baenre replied.
'She would have gone after Drizzt on the simple promise that you would take her into your family,' the mercenary reasoned, 'but to bait her with delusions of replacing Matron Baenre…'
'The greater the prize, the greater Vierna's motivation,' Triel replied calmly. 'It is important to my mother that Drizzt Do'Urden be given to Lloth. Let the fool Do'Urden priestess think what she will.'
'Agreed,' Jarlaxle said with a nod. 'Has House Baenre prepared the escort?'
'A score and a half will slip out beside the fighters of Bregan D'aerthe,' Triel replied. 'They are only males,' she added derisively, 'and expendable.' The first daughter of House Baenre cocked her head curiously as she continued to regard the wily mercenary.
'You will accompany Vierna personally with your chosen soldiers?' Triel asked. 'To coordinate the two groups?'
Jarlaxle clapped his slender hands together. 'I am a part of this,' he answered firmly.
'To my displeasure,' the Baenre daughter snarled. She uttered a single word and, with a flash, disappeared.
'Your mother loves me, dear Triel,' Jarlaxle said to the emptiness, as if the Matron Mistress of the Academy were still beside him. 'I would not miss this,' the mercenary continued, thinking out loud. By Jarlaxle's estimation, the hunt for Drizzt could be only a good thing. He might lose a few soldiers, but they were replaceable. If Drizzt was indeed brought to sacrifice, Lloth would be pleased, Matron Baenre would be pleased, and Jarlaxle would find a way to be rewarded for his efforts. After all, on a simpler level, Drizzt Do'Urden, as a traitorous renegade, carried a high bounty on his head.
Jarlaxle chuckled wickedly, reveling in the beauty of it all. If Drizzt managed somehow to elude them, then Vierna would take the fall, and the mercenary would continue on, untouched by it all.
There was another possibility that Jarlaxle, removed from the immediate situation and wise in the ways of the drow, recognized, and if, by some remote chance, it came to pass, he again would be in a position to profit greatly, simply from his favorable relationship with Vierna. Triel had promised Vierna an unbelievable prize because Lloth had instructed her, and her mother, to do so. What would happen if Vierna fulfilled her part of the agreement? the mercenary wondered. What ironies did conniving Lloth have in store for House Baenre?
Surely Vierna Do'Urden seemed insane for believing Triel's empty promises, but Jarlaxle knew well that many of Menzoberranzan's most powerful drow, Matron Baenre included, had seemed, at one time in their lives, equally crazy.
Vierna pressed through the opaque doorway to Jarlaxle's private chambers later that day, her crazed expression revealing the anxiety for the coming events.
Jarlaxle heard a commotion in the outer corridor, but Vierna merely continued to smile knowingly. The mercenary rocked back in his comfortable chair, tapping his
