Do’Urden would only bolster High Priestess Kiriy and Matron Mother Zeerith’s plans. Plans that she knew would move Saribel away from the throne. She did not believe Dahlia, that abomination known as Darthiir Do’Urden, would live long in this tumultuous time, and Xorlarrin resources made her earlier calculations more urgent.
She looked to Tiago and saw that he could not suppress his wince at what amounted to a dangerous warning from Jaemas. None in the fledgling House now, other than perhaps a few minor soldiers in the garrison, had any ties to House Barrison Del’Armgo.
Indeed, House Do’Urden had become a de facto combination of House Xorlarrin and Bregan D’aerthe, with only Tiago Baenre holding any other direct in-House influence. The moment of joy that left Saribel thinking she might have gained the upper hand against Tiago was tempered only by the fact of Tiago’s family name, Baenre, and his noted standing with Matron Mother Quenthel.
“That will be up to the discretion of the matron mother, of course,” Tiago said coolly, composed again. “It is well known that Matron Mother Zeerith wisely seeks the counsel of Matron Mother Baenre at every turn, that she went to build her failed city at Matron Mother Baenre’s behest, and that it was Matron Mother Baenre’s decision to send the demon army to Q’Xorlarrin to allow Matron Mother Zeerith her retreat with most of her House intact.”
He turned to Braelin, his expression perfectly awful, as he finished with confidence, “Bregan D’aerthe’s tribute soldiers and House Xorlarrin’s attempt to rejoin the ranks of Menzoberranzan will be orchestrated by the will or whim of the matron mother.”
Tiago spun about and motioned to Saribel for her to follow as he strode out of the chamber.
“Drizzt alive!” he said to her when they were alone. “I had him! His head should stand on a pike outside this, my House, as a warning to all who would go against Tiago Baenre.”
“ Your House?” she dared remark, and Tiago spun on her, eyes wide. “Your obsession with the rogue Do’Urden wounds us all,” Saribel pressed, and for a moment, she thought Tiago would strike out at her. “Ravel has tired of it, or could you not hear that clearly in his warnings to you?” “Drizzt Do’Urden will fall to me,” Tiago promised. “And this is already my House, do not doubt. On a word from me, Matron Mother Baenre would cast out any of you.”
“There is a matron mother in the other room,” Saribel reminded him, motioning toward Matron Mother Darthiir’s private chambers. Tiago scoffed.
“She sits on the Ruling Council,” said Saribel, as convincingly as she could. “She is a useful puppet for Matron Mother Baenre,” Tiago replied. “And to me.”
“I know what she is to you, husband.”
“Do you, truly?” His laugh sent a chill to her bones.
“I am the future Matron Mother of House Do’Urden,” Saribel proclaimed. “You would do well to never forget that.”
Tiago laughed at her, and Saribel felt a scream of rage boiling up within her.
“Or perhaps the future Matron Mother of House Do’Urden will be borne by Matron Mother Darthiir,” Tiago retorted, and then, lewdly, he added, “by the beautiful Dahlia.”
“You disgust me.”
Tiago laughed and started away, and he pointedly unstrapped his weapon belt before he had even reached the door to Dahlia’s private quarters. Saribel glanced around, feeling trapped. She wanted to go to Ravel or Jaemas, or perhaps even to Braelin Janquay, to see if she could build some support against Tiago. She understood the driving power of ambition—she was full of it herself, and indeed, was surprised by that, since she had always been the least of Matron Mother Zeerith’s children in the eyes of all around her, even in her own eyes. Her oldest sister Kiriy was the High Priestess of House Xorlarrin, but the next eldest child, Berellip, had always been presumed to be the truly ascendant daughter. Even her
She looked to Tiago and saw that he could not suppress his wince at what amounted to a dangerous warning from Jaemas. None in the fledgling House now, other than perhaps a few minor soldiers in the garrison, had any ties to House Barrison Del’Armgo.
Indeed, House Do’Urden had become a de facto combination of House Xorlarrin and Bregan D’aerthe, with only Tiago Baenre holding any other direct in-House influence. The moment of joy that left Saribel thinking she might have gained the upper hand against Tiago was tempered only by the fact of Tiago’s family name, Baenre, and his noted standing with Matron Mother Quenthel.
“That will be up to the discretion of the matron mother, of course,” Tiago said coolly, composed again. “It is well known that Matron Mother Zeerith wisely seeks the counsel of Matron Mother Baenre at every turn, that she went to build her failed city at Matron Mother Baenre’s behest, and that it was Matron Mother Baenre’s decision to send the demon army to Q’Xorlarrin to allow Matron Mother Zeerith her retreat with most of her House intact.”
He turned to Braelin, his expression perfectly awful, as he finished with confidence, “Bregan D’aerthe’s tribute soldiers and House Xorlarrin’s attempt to rejoin the ranks of Menzoberranzan will be orchestrated by the will or whim of the matron mother.”
Tiago spun about and motioned to Saribel for her to follow as he strode out of the chamber.
“Drizzt alive!” he said to her when they were alone. “I had him! His head should stand on a pike outside this, my House, as a warning to all who would go against Tiago Baenre.”
“ Your House?” she dared remark, and Tiago spun on her, eyes wide. “Your obsession with the rogue Do’Urden wounds us all,” Saribel pressed, and for a moment, she thought Tiago would strike out at her. “Ravel has tired of it, or could you not hear that clearly in his warnings to you?” “Drizzt Do’Urden will fall to me,” Tiago promised. “And this is already my House, do not doubt. On a word from me, Matron Mother Baenre would cast out any of you.”
“There is a matron mother in the other room,” Saribel reminded him, motioning toward Matron Mother Darthiir’s private chambers. Tiago scoffed.
“She sits on the Ruling Council,” said Saribel, as convincingly as she could. “She is a useful puppet for Matron Mother Baenre,” Tiago replied. “And to me.”
“I know what she is to you, husband.”
“Do you, truly?” His laugh sent a chill to her bones.
“I am the future Matron Mother of House Do’Urden,” Saribel proclaimed. “You would do well to never forget that.”
Tiago laughed at her, and Saribel felt a scream of rage boiling up within her.
“Or perhaps the future Matron Mother of House Do’Urden will be borne by Matron Mother Darthiir,” Tiago retorted, and then, lewdly, he added, “by the beautiful Dahlia.”
“You disgust me.”
Tiago laughed and started away, and he pointedly unstrapped his weapon belt before he had even reached the door to Dahlia’s private quarters. Saribel glanced around, feeling trapped. She wanted to go to Ravel or Jaemas, or perhaps even to Braelin Janquay, to see if she could build some support against Tiago. She understood the driving power of ambition—she was full of it herself, and indeed, was surprised by that, since she had always been the least of Matron Mother Zeerith’s children in the eyes of all around her, even in her own eyes. Her oldest sister Kiriy was the High Priestess of House Xorlarrin, but the next eldest child, Berellip, had always been presumed to be the truly ascendant daughter. Even her
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