Read Online R.A. Salvatore's War of the Spider Queen: Dissolution, Insurrection, Condemnation by Richard Lee & Reid Byers - Free Book Online
Authors: Richard Lee & Reid Byers
Ads: Link
The Baenre couldn’t imagine what it would take to accomplish that. A rather gaunt, homely female, her skin the unhealthy dull gray-black color of charcoal, the cut of her nondescript garments subtly divergent from the styles of Menzoberranzan, Umrae always arrived at these clandestine meetings stiff and awkward with nervous tension. Waerva supposed that was the difference between commoners and nobles. No matter how perilous the situation, an aristocrat always managed a certain grace.
“She’s looking at maps!” declared Umrae. Her voice matched her appearance. There was no music in it.
“I’m not surprised,” Waerva replied. “Your mistress is reasonably clever. I never thought she would remain complacent forever.” The body servant dug his fingertips into Waerva’s upper back, and she shivered. “We’ll talk about it, but first, please, set my mind at ease. Tell me that no one who matters saw you enter this particular room.”
Umrae scowled, apparently irked by the very suggestion. “No, of course not.”
“Then for pity’s sake, take off your clothes. You supposedly came here for a deepstroke, and you want to look as if you’ve had one when you get back home. Besides, these fellows are worth the rent.”
Still frowning as if she suspected Waerva was perpetrating some sort of joke at her expense, Umrae gestured brusquely to the human, slightly smaller and less muscular than his compatriot, whom the Baenre had left for her use. Careful not to make eye contact, the slave began to undress her and hang her garments on the hooks set in the wall.
“So what are we going to do?” the commoner asked. “She’s guarded. Even with the resource you gave me, I’m not sure I could kill her and escape, but surely you have skilled assassins at your disposal.”
“Of course.” Waerva had to close her slanted ruby eyes as her body servant squeezed and rubbed another clenched muscle into warm, limp submission. It was remarkable how she didn’t even realize they were tight until the masseur got his hands on them. “Murder would have its advantages. It would take her off the sava board for good and all.”
“Then we’re agreed?” Umrae asked as she lay down on her couch. Her body servant gently spread her mane of coarse white hair to expose the flesh beneath.
Waerva grinned. “You sound so eager.”
“I admit I’m not fond of her.” Umrae’s human opened a white porcelain bottle of unguent, and a sweet scent tinged the air. “That’s not the point. The point is to shield us all for as long as we need it.”
“I quite agree,” said Waerva, “and my concern is that an assassination could prove counterproductive. Might it not call attention to your mistress’s suspicions? Might it not lend weight to them? Does she not have a deputy of like mind ready to take over in the event of her demise?”
Umrae scowled, pondering the questions, plainly not enjoying it much. Her slave spread a thin coat of amber oil onto her back.
From elsewhere in the building echoed the faint, distorted sounds of shouting, laughter, and splashing. Waerva guessed it must be males amusing themselves in one of the bathing pools. The females of the city were scarcely in the mood for boisterous horseplay.
At last Umrae said, “All right, what do you want to do?”
“Counter the threat in a subtler way. She can’t injure us if she’s never afforded the chance to confirm her suspicions.”
“How will you ensure that?” Umrae’s voice quavered as her thrall began to lightly pummel her gleaming back with the bottoms of his fists.
Good luck loosening up those petrified limbs, Waerva thought. “I am a priestess of the Baenre, am I not?”
“The least of them.”
“How insolent of you to say so.” Waerva tensed with annoyance until her masseur’s hands rebuked her.
“I only meant—”
“I know what you meant, and I don’t deny it. It’s why I’m here, after all. Yet consider this: My aunt Triel has always
“She’s looking at maps!” declared Umrae. Her voice matched her appearance. There was no music in it.
“I’m not surprised,” Waerva replied. “Your mistress is reasonably clever. I never thought she would remain complacent forever.” The body servant dug his fingertips into Waerva’s upper back, and she shivered. “We’ll talk about it, but first, please, set my mind at ease. Tell me that no one who matters saw you enter this particular room.”
Umrae scowled, apparently irked by the very suggestion. “No, of course not.”
“Then for pity’s sake, take off your clothes. You supposedly came here for a deepstroke, and you want to look as if you’ve had one when you get back home. Besides, these fellows are worth the rent.”
Still frowning as if she suspected Waerva was perpetrating some sort of joke at her expense, Umrae gestured brusquely to the human, slightly smaller and less muscular than his compatriot, whom the Baenre had left for her use. Careful not to make eye contact, the slave began to undress her and hang her garments on the hooks set in the wall.
“So what are we going to do?” the commoner asked. “She’s guarded. Even with the resource you gave me, I’m not sure I could kill her and escape, but surely you have skilled assassins at your disposal.”
“Of course.” Waerva had to close her slanted ruby eyes as her body servant squeezed and rubbed another clenched muscle into warm, limp submission. It was remarkable how she didn’t even realize they were tight until the masseur got his hands on them. “Murder would have its advantages. It would take her off the sava board for good and all.”
“Then we’re agreed?” Umrae asked as she lay down on her couch. Her body servant gently spread her mane of coarse white hair to expose the flesh beneath.
Waerva grinned. “You sound so eager.”
“I admit I’m not fond of her.” Umrae’s human opened a white porcelain bottle of unguent, and a sweet scent tinged the air. “That’s not the point. The point is to shield us all for as long as we need it.”
“I quite agree,” said Waerva, “and my concern is that an assassination could prove counterproductive. Might it not call attention to your mistress’s suspicions? Might it not lend weight to them? Does she not have a deputy of like mind ready to take over in the event of her demise?”
Umrae scowled, pondering the questions, plainly not enjoying it much. Her slave spread a thin coat of amber oil onto her back.
From elsewhere in the building echoed the faint, distorted sounds of shouting, laughter, and splashing. Waerva guessed it must be males amusing themselves in one of the bathing pools. The females of the city were scarcely in the mood for boisterous horseplay.
At last Umrae said, “All right, what do you want to do?”
“Counter the threat in a subtler way. She can’t injure us if she’s never afforded the chance to confirm her suspicions.”
“How will you ensure that?” Umrae’s voice quavered as her thrall began to lightly pummel her gleaming back with the bottoms of his fists.
Good luck loosening up those petrified limbs, Waerva thought. “I am a priestess of the Baenre, am I not?”
“The least of them.”
“How insolent of you to say so.” Waerva tensed with annoyance until her masseur’s hands rebuked her.
“I only meant—”
“I know what you meant, and I don’t deny it. It’s why I’m here, after all. Yet consider this: My aunt Triel has always
Similar Books
