her robes as she slowly descended. Briza shook her head disdainfully and motioned Rizzen to follow her back inside the house, not thinking it wise that the bulk of the family be so exposed to unfriendly eyes.
“Do you want an escort?” Zak asked as Malice sat on the disk.
“I am certain that I will find one as soon as I am beyond the perimeter of our compound,” Malice replied. “Matron Baenre would not risk exposing me to any danger while I am in the care of her house.”
“Agreed,” said Zak, “but do you want an escort from House Do’Urden?”
“If one was wanted, two disks would have floated in,” Malice said in a tone of finality. The matron was beginning to find the concerns of those around her stifling. She was the matron mother, after all, the strongest, the oldest, and the wisest, and did not appreciate others second-guessing her. To the disk, Malice said, “Execute your appointed task, and let us be done with it!”
Zak nearly snickered at Malice’s choice of words.
“Matron Malice Do’Urden,” came a magical voice from the disk, “Matron Baenre offers her greetings. Too long has it been since last you two have sat in audience.”
“Never,” Malice signaled to Zak. “Then take me to House Baenre!” Malice demanded. “I do not wish to waste my time conversing with a magical mouth!”
Apparently, Matron Baenre had anticipated Malice’s impatience, for without another word, the disk floated back out of the Do’Urden compound.
Zak shut the gate as it left, then quickly signaled his soldiers into motion. Malice did not want any open company, but the Do’Urden spy network would covertly track every movement of the Baenre sled, to the very gates of the ruling house’s grand compound.
Malice’s guess about an escort was correct. As soon as the disk swept down from the pathway to the Do’Urden compound, twenty soldiers of House Baenre, all female, moved out from concealment along the sides of the boulevard. They formed a defensive diamond around the guest matron mother. The guard at each point of the formation wore black robes emblazoned on the back with a large purple-and-red spider design—the robes of a high priestess.
“Baenre’s own daughters,” Malice mused, for only the daughters of a noble could attain such a rank. How careful the First Matron Mother had been to ensure Malice’s safety on the trip!
Slaves and drow commoners tripped over themselves in a frantic effort to get far out of the way of the approaching entourage as the group made its way through the curving streets toward the mushroom grove. The soldiers of House Baenre alone wore their house insignia in open view, and no one wanted to invoke the anger of Matron Baenre in any way.
Malice just rolled her eyes in disbelief and hoped that she might know such power before she died.
She rolled her eyes again a few minutes later, when the group approached the ruling house. House Baenre encompassed twenty tall and majestic stalagmites, all interconnected with gracefully sweeping and arching bridges and parapets. Magic and faerie fire glowed from a thousand separate sculptures and a hundred regally adorned guardsmen paced about in perfect formations.
Even more striking were the inverse structures, the thirty smaller stalactites of House Baenre. They hung down from the ceiling of the cavern, their roots lost in the high darkness. Some of them connected tip-to-tip with the stalagmite mounds, while others hung freely like poised spears. Ringing balconies, curving up like the edging of a screw, had been built along the length of all of these, glowing with an overabundance of magic and highlighted design.
Magic, too, was the fence that connected the bases of the outer stalagmites, encircling the whole of the compound. It was a giant web, silver against the general blue of the rest of the outer compound. Some said it had been a gift from Lolth herself, with iron-strong strands as thick as a drow elf’s arm. Anything
“Do you want an escort?” Zak asked as Malice sat on the disk.
“I am certain that I will find one as soon as I am beyond the perimeter of our compound,” Malice replied. “Matron Baenre would not risk exposing me to any danger while I am in the care of her house.”
“Agreed,” said Zak, “but do you want an escort from House Do’Urden?”
“If one was wanted, two disks would have floated in,” Malice said in a tone of finality. The matron was beginning to find the concerns of those around her stifling. She was the matron mother, after all, the strongest, the oldest, and the wisest, and did not appreciate others second-guessing her. To the disk, Malice said, “Execute your appointed task, and let us be done with it!”
Zak nearly snickered at Malice’s choice of words.
“Matron Malice Do’Urden,” came a magical voice from the disk, “Matron Baenre offers her greetings. Too long has it been since last you two have sat in audience.”
“Never,” Malice signaled to Zak. “Then take me to House Baenre!” Malice demanded. “I do not wish to waste my time conversing with a magical mouth!”
Apparently, Matron Baenre had anticipated Malice’s impatience, for without another word, the disk floated back out of the Do’Urden compound.
Zak shut the gate as it left, then quickly signaled his soldiers into motion. Malice did not want any open company, but the Do’Urden spy network would covertly track every movement of the Baenre sled, to the very gates of the ruling house’s grand compound.
Malice’s guess about an escort was correct. As soon as the disk swept down from the pathway to the Do’Urden compound, twenty soldiers of House Baenre, all female, moved out from concealment along the sides of the boulevard. They formed a defensive diamond around the guest matron mother. The guard at each point of the formation wore black robes emblazoned on the back with a large purple-and-red spider design—the robes of a high priestess.
“Baenre’s own daughters,” Malice mused, for only the daughters of a noble could attain such a rank. How careful the First Matron Mother had been to ensure Malice’s safety on the trip!
Slaves and drow commoners tripped over themselves in a frantic effort to get far out of the way of the approaching entourage as the group made its way through the curving streets toward the mushroom grove. The soldiers of House Baenre alone wore their house insignia in open view, and no one wanted to invoke the anger of Matron Baenre in any way.
Malice just rolled her eyes in disbelief and hoped that she might know such power before she died.
She rolled her eyes again a few minutes later, when the group approached the ruling house. House Baenre encompassed twenty tall and majestic stalagmites, all interconnected with gracefully sweeping and arching bridges and parapets. Magic and faerie fire glowed from a thousand separate sculptures and a hundred regally adorned guardsmen paced about in perfect formations.
Even more striking were the inverse structures, the thirty smaller stalactites of House Baenre. They hung down from the ceiling of the cavern, their roots lost in the high darkness. Some of them connected tip-to-tip with the stalagmite mounds, while others hung freely like poised spears. Ringing balconies, curving up like the edging of a screw, had been built along the length of all of these, glowing with an overabundance of magic and highlighted design.
Magic, too, was the fence that connected the bases of the outer stalagmites, encircling the whole of the compound. It was a giant web, silver against the general blue of the rest of the outer compound. Some said it had been a gift from Lolth herself, with iron-strong strands as thick as a drow elf’s arm. Anything
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