been one way. Spells would have to return them home, if they returned home.
The wind picked up into a gust, spraying dirt and webs. An eerie keening gave Pharaun gooseflesh.
It took him a moment to pinpoint the source of the sound: some of the webs, thick-stranded,
silvery nets strung here and there, vibrated when the wind passed through them. The vibrations caused a haunting scream that rose and fell with the breeze. The spinners of the webs were head-
sized, long legged, elegant looking spiders with narrow red-and-yellow bodies.
'Songspider webs,' Quenthel said, following Pharaun's gaze. A hint of awe colored her tone.
'The voice of Lolth.'
She held her viper-headed whip in one hand and the five red and black snakes swayed to the keening, as though hypnotized. Quenthel leaned an ear toward the serpents and nodded at something they mentally communicated to her.
'The webs call to Lolth's Chosen,' Danifae added, eyeing Quenthel.
'Indeed,' Quenthel said, giving Danifae a veiled look.
Pharaun thought 'Lolth's Chosen ' a poor choice of words. Even he knew that the Spider
Queen did not so much choose as offer. The one who seized her offer-Quenthel, no doubt-would become her Chosen.
In any event, he heard no words in the keening of the webs, though he did not doubt Danifae's claim. Lolth spoke only to her priestesses, not to males.
He looked up to see a cloudy, starless night sky roofing the ruined landscape. Through a single hole in the cloud cover, like a window, a cluster of eight red orbs glared earthward. Seven burned brightly; one was dimmer. They were grouped like the eyes of a spider, like Lolth's eyes.
Pharaun felt the weight of them on his back.
Below the clouds but still high in the sky, green, yellow, and silver vortices of power churned and spun. Some lasted a breath, some longer; but all eventually dissolved into a hissing explosion of sparks as new vortexes formed. Pharaun took them to be a byproduct of Lolth's reawakening,
the remnants of divine dreams, perhaps, or the afterbirth of chaos. Often, one of the vortices would eject what Pharaun assumed to be a soul.
The glowing spirits thronged the night sky, a semi-translucent, colorful swarm flitting through the dark like a cloud of cave bats. Most of them were drow, Pharaun saw, though he saw too an occasional half-drow, draegloth, and even a rare human. They paid no heed to Pharaun and his company-if they could even see them from so high up-but instead fell into a rough line and flew off in generally the same direction.
'A river of souls,' Jeggred said.
'Which appears to have a current,' Pharaun observed, watching the souls form up and flow as one toward some unknown destination.
'Lolth has broken her Silence and now draws her dead to her,' Danifae murmured. 'They are nothing but shadows now, but they will be re-clad in flesh if their petition is accepted.'
Quenthel stared at Danifae with a look of such contempt that Pharaun could not help but admire the expressiveness of her features.
'Only if they reach Lolth's city and are found worthy, battle-captive,' Quenthel said. 'That is a journey that I, and only I, have already made once.'
Danifae answered Quenthel with an impertinent stare. The expression did nothing to diminish the beauty of her face.
'No doubt the Mistress of Arach-Tinilith was found worthy as a shade,' Danifae said, and her tone made the words more question than statement. More importantly, her choice of honorific suggested that she did not acknowledge Quenthel to be the highest ranking priestess in attendance.
Quenthel's eyes narrowed in anger, but before she could respond, Danifae said, 'And no doubt the Yor'thae too must make the journey to Lolth's city to be found worthy. Not so, Mistress
Quenthel?'
Another strong breeze excited the webs near them and set them again to singing. In the keening, Pharaun fancied he heard the whisper of 'Yor'thae.'
Quenthel and the serpents of her whip eyed Danifae. The Mistress of Arach-Tinilith tilted her head at something projected into her mind by her scourge.
'Can you not answer that question without the aide of your whip, aunt?' Jeggred said with sneer.
The heads of Quenthel's weapon swirled with agitation. The high priestess kept her face passive and strode up to the draegloth and Danifae. Both priestesses seemed lost in the shadow of
Jeggred's bulk.
Jeggred uttered a low growl.
'Did you say something to me, nephew?' Quenthel asked, and the serpents of her whip flicked their tongues.
Jeggred stared down at his aunt and opened his mouth to speak.
Danifae placed a hand on the muscular forearm of his fighting arm, and the draegloth held his tongue.
'You spoke out of turn, Jeggred,' Danifae said and lightly slapped his arm. 'Forgive him,
Mistress Quenthel.'
Quenthel turned her gaze to Danifae while her whip serpents continued to regard Jeggred with cold menace.
Quenthel stood a full hand taller than Danifae, and with the strength granted her by her magical belt she probably could have snapped the younger priestess's spine with her hands. The battle-captive kept her hand clear of the haft of her morningstar.
'For a moment, it seemed as if you had forgotten yourself, Danifae Yauntyrr,' Quenthel said,
in a tone of voice reserved for scolding children. 'Perhaps the planar travel has disoriented you?'
Before Danifae could answer, Quenthel's gaze hardened and she said, 'Allow me to remind you that I am the High Priestess Quenthel Baenre, Mistress of Arach-Tinilith, Mistress of the
Academy, Mistress of Tier Breche, First Sister of House Baenre of Menzoberranzan. You are a battle- captive, the daughter of a dead House, a presumptuous child lacking the wisdom to temper your snide tongue.' She held up a hand to forestall Danifae's response. 'I will forgive your presumption this time, but consider well your next words. When Lolth's decision is made, her
Chosen may feel compelled to right previous insolence.'
Beside Danifae, Jeggred's rapid respiration sounded like a duergar's forge bellows. The powerful claws on the ends of his fighting arms clenched and unclenched. He looked at his aunt as though she were a piece of meat.
In answer, the heads of Quenthel's whips hissed into his face.
Out of prudence, Pharaun called to mind the words to a spell that would immobilize Jeggred,
should the need arise. He knew where his loyalties would lie if the rift between Quenthel and
Danifae became an open battle. Quenthel had just recited her title to Danifae. Pharaun would have added one more: Yor'thae of the Spider Queen. Lolth had brought Quenthel back from the dead. For what other purpose would the Spider Queen have done so?
To her credit, Danifae stood her ground in the face of Quenthel's anger and showed not the least fear. Her striking gray eyes revealed nothing. She lifted her hand and made as though to raise it to Quenthel's face, perhaps to stroke her cheek. When the whip-serpents turned from
Jeggred to hiss and snap at her fingers, she jerked it back.
'Those days are past,' Quenthel said, through a tight jaw.
Danifae sighed and smiled. 'I seek only to see that you fulfill your destiny, Mistress of Arach-
Tinilith,' she said, 'and to do the will of the Spider Queen.'
While Pharaun mentally dissected the reply for the meaning within the meaning, Quenthel said, 'We all know what is the will of the Spider Queen. Just as we all know who will be the
Spider Queen's Chosen. Speaking names is unnecessary. Signs will bespeak the Yor'thae. Let each interpret those as they will. But an unfortunate fate awaits those who misinterpret.'
Danifae's beautiful face adopted an unreadable veil but she held Quenthel's eyes. 'An unfortunate fate indeed,' she said.
