Jaul nodded vigorously. “Deal!” He bowed and made for the exit, his heart aglow with possibilities.
“One more thing, Jaul.”
“Yes?”
“Keep what we’ve discussed between just you and me.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
'Chenraya,” came a deep voice. “Why must you leave a litter of corpses wherever you go?”
Chenraya Xorlarrin frowned. She turned to face Lord Pashra, taking care to avoid the expanding pool of blood leaking from the still-twitching servitor.
“It’s no concern of yours,” she replied.
The blue-skinned oni glared, as if he had the authority to demand her answer.
He was one male she’d grown
“Is it not?” he finally asked. But drow or not, she decided, the oni’s usefulness was fast drawing to a close. If it wasn’t for Pashra’s special knowledge concerning the arambarium, she would’ve already whispered the same dread word of arcane magic to him that she’d just used on the ettercap servitor. Even though it was created by men, it was a lovely spell … but it tasted filthy in her mouth. She’d learned it from a Bregan D’aerthe mercenary the Matron Mother had pressed upon her. Spells had their uses, even those fashioned by males. Matron Mother Zeerith, head of House Xolarrin, perhaps wasn’t entirely mad to accept opinions and input from the male drow of her house. Indeed, Lolth had commanded her daughters in every house to learn something of the magic that men wove in their stinking academies. Doing so would advance the Spider Queen’s new goal. A wondrous objective, though its potential implications left Chenraya unsettled.
“Are you drugged?” said Pashra, shaking her out of her reverie. “Why was it necessary to remove this ettercap’s heart and set it flopping on the floor?” The oni gave the dying organ a kick.
“Simple pleasures, Lord Pashra,” Chenraya replied. “They’re what get us through.” She bared her teeth- perhaps the oni would choose to interpret it as a smile-and mentally promised herself the treat of removing one of Pashra’s vital organs as well. Soon.
Openly she had gave praise to Lolth’s new direction and accepted her Matron Mother’s commands. Zeerith’s policy of tolerating males might even put the Fifth House of Menzoberranzan in the vanguard, and should Lolth’s plan succeed, all the daughters of House Xorlorrin would reap the benefits. But, sadly, so would all the sons.
“Besides, we have an army of ettercap servitor-slaves. A few here and there aren’t worth your concern.”
“Yes, priestess, but hardly any of them are with us. Most of them are out at the dig, an inconvenient distance from the nexus.” The oni gestured along the winding corridor of webbing that stretched into the dimness, the newest endpoint hub of the Demonweb.
The oni had a point. Damn it. And he had become less respectful and more critical. Connecting this leg of the Spider Queen’s network in Akanul had been a triumph, given the Demonweb’s recent and troubling instability. She’d had to locate an endpoint that wouldn’t immediately collapse under the strain when the connection was made. Unfortunately, no such endpoints existed out on the island. That would have been
Which meant that transporting the prize still required secrecy and finesse. At least time was on their side. Thanks to false information fed by a couple of well-placed spies to the Akanul “intelligence” branch, the mining disruption was being blamed on a hostile foreign nation. This had allowed her to do with the mine as she pleased. Diverting the initial scraps of arambarium had been just the first step, of course. A test. The true mother lode had yet to be seized, thanks to one last group of hold-out genasi defenders in the mine’s heart. They needed to be dealt with soon. After they were quashed, it would all be hers. And to transport it, and indeed her entire force of servitor slaves, she’d devised a special surprise, praise Lolth.
“The Throne of Majesty knows about us,” said Pashra.
“No, Pashra. We’ve been over this-”
“They’ve found the warehouse. They know arambarium was shipped through it. How long before the Throne sends an army to the island? We can overcome the occasional spy or strike force, but not an entire troop of peacemakers.”
“Why are you wasting my time repeating these things?” asked Chenraya.
The oni said something curt and explosive in an unfamiliar language. But she recognized the tone. Then he said, “Humor me. What if, despite everything we’ve done, the Stewards are actually on to us?”
This was growing tiresome. Perhaps if I lay it out to him, as I would to a girl child who had not yet reached five years … “Listen, I’ll say this only once more. The Throne of Majesty is closer to learning the truth, yes. But they’re also in turmoil. The queen remains unengaged, hiding in her royal suite. The Stewards are convinced Tymanther is the author of their misfortune. Yes, the pale-skinned warrior and windsoul in the warehouse were remarkably capable compared to earlier spies. Eventually, yes, they’ll learn what we’ve really been up to. But by then it’ll be too late.”
“How can you be so certain? Did you see what they were capable of? What if they track us to the Demonweb endpoint, or visit the mine before we’ve unearthed the relic?”
Chenraya sighed. “The mine swarms with the balance of my slave-soldiers, my harem of arachnids, and a company of reanimated miners. Should any spy manage to defeat all those threats, the deadfall I’ve devised will smash even a small army of peacemakers to paste. Or anyone
The oni frowned. He understood her implicit threat.
“What about here? I see no defenses. If they get past the Guardian-”
“The Demonweb will rouse if nondrow should dare tread its paths. It’s a manifestation of Lolth’s mind, after all. The only reason
“Not that damned smell again,” said Riltana.
Demascus glanced into the intersecting passage ahead. Fluid slithered down the corridor like a snake made of feces. He wrinkled his nose. Chant came up even with Demascus and Riltana. His sunrod cast additional light on the putrid scene. Behind the pawnbroker trudged Jaul, who kept one hand clutched on his dagger hilt.
The kid shouldn’t be here, Demascus thought. But including Chant’s son was a condition Raneger insisted on before cooperating any further.
“Maybe we can give this tunnel a pass,” said Riltana.
Demascus studied the marked-up map Raneger had provided. “I think we need to check it out,” he said.
“Listen,” she replied. “What’re the odds this’ll be the one that goes to the Gatekeeper? The last six were a bust. Wait, I’ll answer my own question: Odds are low. Let’s avoid the shit-road and check out the next passage.”
“I agree with her,” said Jaul.
Riltana flashed Jaul a sugary smile. The kid returned an unabashed grin, his eyes sparkling.
Oh, great, thought Demascus. Jaul was setting himself up for a fall if he thought Riltana might have any interest in him whatsoever. The thief still carried a torch for Carmenere that wasn’t going out anytime soon. But Riltana wasn’t above flirting. Charisma was just another tool in her bag of tricks. Chant started to speak, maybe to disagree with his son. But he coughed instead. A fake cough.
Demascus suppressed a sigh. He saw how it was going to be. And it wasn’t like he wanted to wade in
