Matron Baenre slid back into her sapphire throne, never taking her gaze from K'yorl.
'I do not have many house drow,' K'yorl said, and it was the first time Jarlaxle had ever heard the upstart Oblodran sound humbled.
'No, but you have kobold fodder!' Matron Baenre snapped. 'And do not dare to admit to six hundred. The tunnels of the Clawrift beneath House Oblodra are vast.'
'I will give to you three thousand,' K'yorl answered, apparently thinking the better of some hard bargaining.
'Ten times that!' Baenre growled.
K'yorl said nothing, merely cocked her head back and looked down her slender, ebon-skinned nose at the first matron mother.
'I'll settle for nothing less than twenty thousand,' Matron Baenre said then, carrying both sides of the bargaining. 'The defenses of the dwarven stronghold will be cunning, and we'll need ample fodder to sort our way through.'
'The cost is great,' K'yorl said.
'Twenty thousand kobolds do not equal the cost of one drow life,' Baenre reminded her, then added, just for effect, 'in Lloth's eyes.'
K'yorl started to respond sharply, but Matron Baenre stopped her at once.
'Spare me your threats!' Baenre screamed, her thin neck seeming even scrawnier with her jaw so tightened and jutting forward. 'In Lloth's eyes, this event goes beyond the fighting of drow houses, and I promise you, K'yorl, that the disobedience of House Oblodra will aid the ascension of Faen Tlabbar!'
Jarlaxle's eyes widened with surprise and he looked at Dantrag, who had no explanation. Never before had the mercenary heard, or heard of, such a blatant threat, one house against another. No grin, no witty response, came from K'yorl this time. Studying the female, silent and obviously fighting to keep her features calm, Jarlaxle could see the seeds of anarchy. K'yorl and House Oblodra would not soon forget Matron Baenre's threat, and given Matron Baenre's arrogance, other houses would undoubtedly foster similar resentments. The mercenary nodded as he thought of his own meeting with fearful Triel, who would likely inherit this dangerous situation.
'Twenty thousand,' K'yorl quietly agreed, 'if that many of the troublesome little rats can be herded.'
The matron mother of House Oblodra was then dismissed. As she entered the marble cylinder, Dantrag dropped out of the end of the spider filament and climbed from the extradimensional pocket, into the throne room.
Jarlaxle went behind, stepping lightly to stand before the throne. He swept into a low bow, the diatryma feather sticking from the brim of his great hat brushing the floor. 'A most magnificent performance,' he greeted Matron Baenre. 'It was my pleasure that I was allowed to witness—'
'Shut up,' Matron Baenre, leaning back in her throne and full of venom, said to him.
Still grinning, the mercenary came to quiet attention.
'K'yorl is a dangerous nuisance,' Matron Baenre said. 'I will ask little from her house drow, though their strange mind powers would prove useful in breaking the will of resilient dwarves. All that we need from them is kobold fodder, and since the vermin breed like muck rats, their sacrifice will not be great.'
'What about after the victory?' Jarlaxle dared to ask.
'That is for K'yorl to decide,' Matron Baenre replied immediately. She motioned then for the others, even her scribes, to leave the room, and all knew that she meant to appoint Jarlaxle's band to a scouting mission—at the very least—on House Oblodra.
They all went without complaint, except for wicked Bladen'Kerst, who paused to flash the mercenary a dangerous glare. Bladen'Kerst hated Jarlaxle as she hated all drow males, considering them nothing more than practice dummies on which she could hone her torturing techniques.
The mercenary shifted his eye patch to the other eye and gave her a lewd wink in response.
Bladen'Kerst immediately looked to her mother, as if asking permission to beat the impertinent male senseless, but Matron Baenre continued to wave her away.
'You want Bregan D'aerthe to keep close watch on House Oblodra,' Jarlaxle reasoned as soon as he was alone with Baenre. 'Not an easy task—'
'No,' Matron Baenre interrupted. 'Even Bregan D'aerthe could not readily spy on that mysterious house.'
The mercenary was glad that Matron Baenre, not he, had been the one to point that out. He considered the unexpected conclusion, then grinned widely, and even dipped into a bow of salute as he came to understand. Matron Baenre wanted the others, particularly El-Viddenvelp, merely to think that she would set Bregan D'aerthe to spy on House Oblodra. That way, she could keep K'yorl somewhat off guard, looking for ghosts that did not exist.
'I care not for K'yorl, beyond my need of her slaves,' Matron Baenre went on. 'If she does not do as she is instructed in this matter, then House Oblodra will be dropped into the Clawrift and forgotten.'
The matter-of-fact tones, showing supreme confidence, impressed the mercenary. 'With the first and second houses aligned, what choice does K'yorl have?' he asked.
Matron Baenre pondered that point, as though Jarlaxle had reminded her of something. She shook the notion away and quickly went on. 'We do not have time to discuss your meeting with Triel,' she said, and Jarlaxle was more than a little curious, for he had thought that the primary reason for his visit to House Baenre. 'I want you to begin planning our procession toward the dwarvish home. I will need maps of the intended routes, as well as detailed descriptions of the possible final approaches to Mithril Hall, so that Dantrag and his generals might best plan the attack.'
Jarlaxle nodded. He certainly wasn't about to argue with the foul-tempered matron mother. 'We could send spies deeper into the dwarven complex,' he began, but again, the impatient Baenre cut him short.
'We need none,' she said simply.
Jarlaxle eyed her curiously. 'Our last expedition did not actually get into Mithril Hall,' he reminded.
Matron Baenre's lips curled up in a perfectly evil smile, an infectious grin that made Jarlaxle eager to learn what revelation might be coming. Slowly, the matron mother reached inside the front of her fabulous robes, producing a chain on which hung a ring, bone white and fashioned, so it appeared, out of a large tooth. 'Do you know of this?' she asked, holding the item up in plain view.
'It is said to be the tooth of a dwarf king, and that his trapped and tormented soul is contained within the ring,' the mercenary replied.
'A dwarf king,' Matron Baenre echoed. 'And there are not so many dwarvish kingdoms, you see.'
Jarlaxle's brow furrowed, then his face brightened. 'Mithril Hall?' he asked.
Matron Baenre nodded. 'Fate has played me a marvelous coincidence,' she explained. 'Within this ring is the soul of Gandalug Battlehammer, First King of Mithril Hall, Patron of Clan Battlehammer.'
Jarlaxle's mind whirled with the possibilities. No wonder, then, that Lloth had instructed Vierna to go after her renegade brother! Drizzt was just a tie to the surface, a pawn in a larger game of conquest.
'Gandalug talks to me,' Matron Baenre explained, her voice as content as a cat's purr. 'He remembers the ways of Mithril Hall.'
Sos'Umptu Baenre entered then, ignoring Jarlaxle and walking right by him to stand before her mother. The matron mother did not rebuke her, as the mercenary would have expected for the unannounced intrusion, but rather, turned a curious gaze her way and allowed her to explain.
'Matron Mez'Barris Armgo grows impatient,' Sos'Umptu said.
In the chapel, Jarlaxle realized, for Sos'Umptu was caretaker of the wondrous Baenre chapel and rarely left the place. The mercenary paused for just a moment to consider the revelation. Mez'Barris was the matron mother of House Barrison Del'Armgo, the city's second-ranking house. But why would she be at the Baenre compound if, as Matron Baenre had declared, Barrison Del'Armgo had already agreed to the expedition?
Why indeed.
'Perhaps you should have seen to Matron Mez'Barris first,' the mercenary said slyly to Matron Baenre. The withered old matron accepted his remark in good cheer; it showed her that her favorite spy was thinking dearly.
'K'yorl was the more difficult,' Baenre replied. 'To keep that one waiting would have put her in a fouler mood than usual. Mez'Barris is calmer by far, more understanding of the gains. She will agree to the war with the dwarves.'
