Saribel Xorlarrin Baenre Do’Urden. Do you understand that distinction?”
Tiago could barely spit out a response. Where was this sudden attitude shift coming from? He had been the leader of the Xorlarrin expedition to claim Gauntlgrym as a drow city, even above High Priestess Berellip herself. Tiago had held no small measure of sway in every movement and decision of that expedition, because of the insistence of Matron Mother Quenthel. Now she would side with dimwitted Saribel Xorlarrin over him?
He knew he had to take a different tack. “Her . . .” He paused again, wanting to keep Saribel completely out of the reference. “Ravel Xorlarrin,” he corrected, and then again, “Ravel Do’Urden has been joined among the House nobles by his cousin Jaemas and other wizards of House Xorlarrin.”
“They are without a home, of course,” Quenthel replied. “And House Do’Urden must fend for itself against treachery that may yet come.”
“I understand . . .” Tiago started to reply.
“I do not care if you understand or not,” Quenthel scolded. “Why would I? You are the weapons master of House Do’Urden, answering thus to the Matron Mother of House Do’Urden.”
“She is . . .” Tiago started to retort. But when Quenthel’s hand came up, holding her vicious, snake-headed scourge, Tiago wanted no part of that. Favored nephew and noble or not, he was, after all, just a male, and had felt the bite of such punishing tools far too many times in his short life. He sucked in his breath and fell to his knees in supplication.
“Stand up, you fool,” Quenthel commanded, and he did, quickly, and dared look into her eyes.
“You are Baenre,” she said. “You know the way of things. Are you so bound up in your pride that you do not understand the opportunity before us now? House Xorlarrin has been dislodged from Q’Xorlarrin, and we’ll not march against that fortress to drive out the dwarves. Not now, not anytime soon.”
“Drizzt Do’Urden is there,” Tiago dared to whisper.
The matron mother’s scourge snapped and Tiago recoiled in fear as the snake heads hissed and spat and bit in the air just in front of his face.
“Do not ever speak that name to me again,” Quenthel told him. “He is an inconsequential tick, and every time you speak of him or consider him, he bloats on the blood of House Baenre. The dwarves have reclaimed Gauntlgrym. The tunnels between us and them are thick with demons, including major demons, including demon lords. Shall I march an army through such a force to do battle with entrenched dwarves? Would that satisfy your hunger?”
“No, Matron Mother,” Tiago said weakly.
“I choose not to protect House Do’Urden at this time, and know that you have enemies,” Quenthel bluntly stated.
That declaration hit Tiago hard. This wasn’t a choice, he knew, but a necessity. Only then did he realize how much damage Archmage Gromph’s recklessness had truly wrought, not necessarily to Menzoberranzan but surely to House Baenre. Quenthel wouldn’t help defend House Do’Urden because she couldn’t help, because she was feeling the pressure of the other Houses, all outraged over the arrival of Demogorgon in Menzoberranzan at the hands of the archmage, the Elderboy of House Baenre and the arcane extension of Matron Mother Baenre.
Tiago pieced some things together then, and he did well not to gasp aloud as truths became clear to him. Jarlaxle had told the Xorlarrins to leave, so Jaemas had declared. Jarlaxle had arranged the truce with King Bruenor that had allowed Matron Mother Zeerith and her family to escape, Tiago had learned from Ravel soon after that meeting in House Do’Urden’s chapel. And Bregan D’aerthe answered, most of all, to Matron Mother Baenre. Was it possible that Matron Mother Quenthel had surrendered the city of Q’Xorlarrin to pull back reinforcements she feared she would need for the security of House Baenre?
“Matron Mother Zeerith’s troubles may well
Tiago could barely spit out a response. Where was this sudden attitude shift coming from? He had been the leader of the Xorlarrin expedition to claim Gauntlgrym as a drow city, even above High Priestess Berellip herself. Tiago had held no small measure of sway in every movement and decision of that expedition, because of the insistence of Matron Mother Quenthel. Now she would side with dimwitted Saribel Xorlarrin over him?
He knew he had to take a different tack. “Her . . .” He paused again, wanting to keep Saribel completely out of the reference. “Ravel Xorlarrin,” he corrected, and then again, “Ravel Do’Urden has been joined among the House nobles by his cousin Jaemas and other wizards of House Xorlarrin.”
“They are without a home, of course,” Quenthel replied. “And House Do’Urden must fend for itself against treachery that may yet come.”
“I understand . . .” Tiago started to reply.
“I do not care if you understand or not,” Quenthel scolded. “Why would I? You are the weapons master of House Do’Urden, answering thus to the Matron Mother of House Do’Urden.”
“She is . . .” Tiago started to retort. But when Quenthel’s hand came up, holding her vicious, snake-headed scourge, Tiago wanted no part of that. Favored nephew and noble or not, he was, after all, just a male, and had felt the bite of such punishing tools far too many times in his short life. He sucked in his breath and fell to his knees in supplication.
“Stand up, you fool,” Quenthel commanded, and he did, quickly, and dared look into her eyes.
“You are Baenre,” she said. “You know the way of things. Are you so bound up in your pride that you do not understand the opportunity before us now? House Xorlarrin has been dislodged from Q’Xorlarrin, and we’ll not march against that fortress to drive out the dwarves. Not now, not anytime soon.”
“Drizzt Do’Urden is there,” Tiago dared to whisper.
The matron mother’s scourge snapped and Tiago recoiled in fear as the snake heads hissed and spat and bit in the air just in front of his face.
“Do not ever speak that name to me again,” Quenthel told him. “He is an inconsequential tick, and every time you speak of him or consider him, he bloats on the blood of House Baenre. The dwarves have reclaimed Gauntlgrym. The tunnels between us and them are thick with demons, including major demons, including demon lords. Shall I march an army through such a force to do battle with entrenched dwarves? Would that satisfy your hunger?”
“No, Matron Mother,” Tiago said weakly.
“I choose not to protect House Do’Urden at this time, and know that you have enemies,” Quenthel bluntly stated.
That declaration hit Tiago hard. This wasn’t a choice, he knew, but a necessity. Only then did he realize how much damage Archmage Gromph’s recklessness had truly wrought, not necessarily to Menzoberranzan but surely to House Baenre. Quenthel wouldn’t help defend House Do’Urden because she couldn’t help, because she was feeling the pressure of the other Houses, all outraged over the arrival of Demogorgon in Menzoberranzan at the hands of the archmage, the Elderboy of House Baenre and the arcane extension of Matron Mother Baenre.
Tiago pieced some things together then, and he did well not to gasp aloud as truths became clear to him. Jarlaxle had told the Xorlarrins to leave, so Jaemas had declared. Jarlaxle had arranged the truce with King Bruenor that had allowed Matron Mother Zeerith and her family to escape, Tiago had learned from Ravel soon after that meeting in House Do’Urden’s chapel. And Bregan D’aerthe answered, most of all, to Matron Mother Baenre. Was it possible that Matron Mother Quenthel had surrendered the city of Q’Xorlarrin to pull back reinforcements she feared she would need for the security of House Baenre?
“Matron Mother Zeerith’s troubles may well
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