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ng ArachTinilith。 They haven't slain any of us yet； but if we don't help them； and Quenthel lives on； they may decide to eliminate us； too； for after all； it's a demon's nature to kill。〃
〃The demons may be less dangerous than House Baenre；〃 T'risstree said。
〃The Baenre won't know who facilitated Quenthel's demise；〃 Drisinil said。 〃So what will they do； wreak their vengeance on every priestess in ArachTinilith？ They can't。 They need us to educate their daughters and perform the secret rites。〃
〃If Quenthel dies；〃 said a priestess leaning against the wall； 〃Molvayas has a fair chance of being Mistress of ArachTinilith—but how do the rest of us stand to gain？〃
〃My niece has explained；〃 said Molvayas； 〃that we'll all renew our bond with the goddess and replenish our magic。 Beyond that； I promise that if I bee mistress； I'll remember those who lifted me up。 High priestesses； you will be my lieutenants； ranking higher than any other instructor。 Novices； your time at ArachTinilith will be spent far more pleasantly than is the rule。 You； too； will exercise authority over your peers。 You'll enjoy luxuries。 I'll excuse you from the more onerous ordeals and teach you secrets most pupils never learn。〃
〃We'll hold you to that；〃 said another voice from the back； 〃and expose you if you renege。〃
〃Exactly；〃 said Molvayas。 〃You'll always be in a position to inform House Baenre of my guilt。 Your numbers are too great for me to murder all of you； and so you know you can trust me to keep my pledge。 Even if it were otherwise； I'd be stupid to play you false； considering that I'll always need loyal supporters。〃
〃It's tempting；〃 the veiled Xorlarrin said。 〃I'd take almost any chance to win my magic back。 Still； we're talking about the Baenre。〃
〃Damn the Baenre〃 Drisinil spat。 〃Perhaps killing Quenthel is the first rumble of the cavein that will bury the entire clan。〃
〃What cavein？〃 T'risstree asked。
〃I don't know； exactly；〃 Drisinil admitted。 〃Still； consider this： Houses rise and fall。 It's the way of Menzoberranzan and the will of Lolth。 Thus far； House Baenre has been the exception； perching on the top of the heap for century after century。 Perhaps； with the old matron mother's death； the family has finally forfeited the goddess's regard。 Why not 。 。 。 everyone knows Triel is out of her depth。 Perhaps it's time at last for House Baenre to honor the universal law。 If so； wouldn't it be glorious to mence the decline in their fortunes here； now； this very minute in this very room？〃
〃Yes；〃 T'risstree declared。
Surprised； Drisinil turned to face her。 〃You agree？〃
Setting her razoredged falchion aside； T'risstree rose and said； 〃I was dubious； but you convinced me。〃 For an instant； she grinned。 〃I don't like Quenthel anyway。 So yes； we'll usher her into her tomb； regain the goddess's approval； and run the academy as we please。〃
She extended her hands。 Drisinil smiled and clasped them despite the twin shooting pains the pressure produced； then she turned to the other females and said； 〃What about the rest of you？ Are you with us？〃
They tendered a ragged chorus of assent。 She guessed that those who doubted she had hit on the way to propitiate Lolth were nonetheless eager to move up in the temple hierarchy； or at least disliked Quenthel。 Maybe they were simply indulging the innate dark elf taste for bloodshed and betrayal。
Drisinil herself truly did believe she'd contrived the proper metaphysical remedy for their woes but deep down； she was even more excited at the prospect of avenging herself on her torturer。 How could it be otherwise？ For the rest of her life； her selfmutilated hands would announce to any who looked that someone had once defeated and humiliated her。
〃I thank you；〃 she said to the other clerics。 〃Now； let's put our heads together。 We have much to plan and only a little time before others will start to miss us。〃
And plan they did； whispering； bickering； occasionally grinning at some particularly inventive and vicious suggestion。 Drisinil knew that some if not all of the scheming would e to nothing—it was too contingent on Quenthel's doing precisely what the plotters wanted exactly when and where they wanted it done—but the effort served to cement their mitment to the conspiracy and to limn at least the bare bones of a strategy。
Finally it was done。 The priestesses started to slip out the way they'd e； one and two at a time。 The more restless stood in a clump around the exit； awaiting their turns。 T'risstree was among them。
Drisinil crossed the floor in as relaxed and casual a manner as she could affect。 She didn't want someone to realize her intent； and； surprised； react in some audible way。
No one did。 All dark elves were actors in that they were liars； and perhaps she was a better dissembler than most。 She sauntered within arm's reach of T'risstree； took hold of the dirk concealed inside her long； fringed shawl； and drove the blade into the high priestess's spine。 This time； for whatever reason； the stumps of her severed pinkies didn't hurt a bit。 T'risstree's back arched in a spasm of agony； and； to Drisinil's surprise； her teacher tried to flounder around to face her。 Her arm shaking； T'risstree lifted the falchion。
Drisinil turned along with the high priestess； keeping behind her。 She grabbed hold of T'risstree's hair； jerked her head back； and sliced open her throat。 The instructor collapsed。 The sword slipped from her fingers and clanked on the floor。
The onlookers gawked。
〃T'risstree T'h meant to betray us；〃 Drisinil said。 〃I saw it in her eyes when I took her hands。 We can leave the carcass here for the time being。 With luck； no one will discover it until after Quenthel's death。〃
Either the other conspirators believed her explanation； or； more likely； didn't care that she'd murdered the teacher。 A few congratulated her on her finesse； and； utterly indifferent to the corpse sprawled in their midst； resumed their departures。
Drisinil picked up and examined the fallen falchion。 Once Quenthel was slain； it ought to look nice on her wall。
*
Faeryl prowled the rounded； treacherous surfaces at the apex of the ambassadorial residence。 She was trying to monitor all four sides of her home； which entailed clambering about with a certain celerity。 Yet she was also trying to hide from anyone who might be peering from the window of a neighboring mansion or up from one of the quiet residential boulevards of prosperous West Wall； and the faster she moved； the more problematic stealth became。 She'd sneaked up there two hours ago； when everyone else thought she was bundling or burning documents； and she still wasn't sure she'd struck the proper balance between the two necessities。
She wished she could have ordered a retainer or two up there to help her keep her vigil； but it would have been illadvised； considering that any of her minions might be the object of her hunt。
She also wished she had more cover。 Except for a few token walkways and crenellations so small as to be essentially ornamental； the apex of the stalagmite keep was bare of fortifications or even level places to stand。 If Faeryl looked closely； she could see subtle signs that at one time； when the keep had served another purpose； such defenses had existed in abundance； but subsequently； a wizard had melted the ramparts back into the rest of the calcite。 It made sense。 The Menzoberranyr would see no reason to gift an outsider with any notable capacity to resist a siege。
Faeryl perched on the northeast side of the roof。 Outlined in blue； green； or violent phosphorescence； the homes of her wealthier neighbors glowed all around her。 Had she looked from a distance； she would have observed her own residence shining in the same way。 Fortunately； the luminescence only defined the silhouette of the tower and picked out several spiders sculpted in basrelief。 As long as she stayed away from the images； kept silent； and enjoyed a measure of luck； it shouldn't reveal her presence。
A soft； indefinable sound rose from the northwest。 Grateful that she at least still had the brooch that would make her weightless； she scuttled quickly along the sloping pitch of the roof； fearless in the knowledge that even if she lost her footing； she needn't fall。
In a few seconds； she reached the northwest aspect。 She peered over the drop and discovered the source of the sound in the plaza below。
Bare to the waist； rapiers in one hand and parrying daggers in the other； two males circled one another。 They stood straight and stepped lightly in the manner of welltrained fencers。 Their discarded piwafwi’s； mail； and shirts lay where they'd tossed them on the ground along with a pair of empty wineskins。 A third male looked on from beneath an overhanging balcony some distance away； where the batants quite possibly hadn't noticed him。
Faeryl sighed。 This little tableau was mildly intriguing； but it clearly had nothing to do with her own situation。
After her frustrating interview with Matron Mother Baenre； she'd realized she had an opponent。 Someone who'd traduced her； possibly to keep her from departing Menzoberranzan； though she couldn't imagine why。 From that inference； it was a small step to the suspicion that the enemy had an agent inside her household。 It was what any intelligent foe would t