Dinin bowed low and swept toward the door. His sisters took note of how easily Malice had stolen the proud spring from his step.
“I will remember your words,” Malice said wryly, enjoying the power play and the silent applause. Dinin paused, his hand on the handle of the ornate door. “One day you will prove your loyalty to me, do not doubt.’
All five of the high priestesses laughed at Dinin’s back as he rushed out of the room.
On the floor, Rizzen found himself in quite a dangerous dilemma. Malice had sent Dinin away, saying in essence that males had no right to remain in the room. Yet Malice had not given Rizzen permission to move. He planted his feet and fingers against the stone, ready to spring away in an instant.
Are you still here?” Malice shrieked at him. Rizzen bolted for the door.
“Hold!” Malice cried at him, her words once again empowered by a magical spell.
Rizzen stopped suddenly, against his better judgment and unable to resist the dweomer of Matron Malice’s spell.
“I did not give you permission to move!” Malice screamed behind him.
“But-“ Rizzen started to protest.
“Take him!” Malice commanded her two youngest daughters, and Vierna and Maya rushed over and roughly grabbed Rizzen.
“Put him in a dungeon cell,” Malice instructed them. “Keep him alive. We will need him later.”
Vierna and Maya hauled the trembling male out of the anteroom. Rizzen did not dare offer any resistance.
“You have a plan,” Shi’nayne said to Malice. As SiNafay, the matron mother of House Hun’ett, the newest Do’Urden had learned to see purpose in every action. She knew the duties of a matron mother well and understood that Malice’s outburst against Rizzen, who had in fact done nothing wrong, was more of calculated design than of true outrage.
“I agree with your assessment,” Malice said to Briza. “Drizzt has gone beyond us.”
“But by the words of Matron Baenre herself, we must not fail,” Briza reminded her mother. “Your seat on the ruling council must be strengthened at all cost.”
“We shall not fail,” Shi’nayne said to Briza, eyeing Malice all the while. Another wry look came across Malice’s face as Shi’nayne continued. “In ten years of battle against House Do’Urden,” she said, “I have come to understand the methods of Matron Malice. Your mother will find a way to catch Drizzt,” She paused, noting her “mother’s” widening smile. “Or has she, perhaps, already found a way?”
“We shall see,” Malice purred, her confidence growing in her former rival’s decree of respect. “We shall see.”
More than two hundred commoners of House Do’Urden milled about the great chapel, excitedly exchanging rumors of the coming events. Commoners were rarely allowed in this sacred place, only on the high holidays of Lloth or in communal prayer before a battle. Yet there were no expectations among them of any impending war, and this was no holy day on the drow calendar.
Dinin Do’Urden, also anxious and excited, moved about the crowd, settling dark elves into the rows of seats encircling the raised central dais. Being only a male, Dinin would not partake of the ceremony at the altar and Matron Malice had told him nothing of her plans. From the instructions she had given him, though, Dinin knew that the results of this day’s events would prove critical to the future of his family. He was the chant leader; he would continually move throughout the assembly, leading the commoners in the appropriate verses to the Spider Queen.
Dinin had played this role often before, but this time Matron Malice had warned him that if a single voice called out incorrectly, Dinin’s life would be forfeit. Still another fact disturbed the elderboy of House Do’Urden. He was normally accompanied in his chapel duties by the other male noble of the house, Malice’s present mate. Rizzen had not been seen since that day when the whole family had gathered in the anteroom. Dinin suspected that Rizzen’s reign as patron soon would come to a crashing end. It was no secret that Matron Malice had given previous mates to Lloth.
When all of the commoners were seated, magical red lights began to glow softly all about the room. The illumination increased gradually, allowing the gathered dark elves to comfortably shift their dual-purpose eyes from the infrared spectrum into the realm of light.
Misty vapors rolled out from under the seats, hugged the floor, and rose in curling wisps. Dinin led the crowd in a low hum, the calling of Matron Malice.
Malice appeared at the top of the room’s domed ceiling, her arms outstretched and the folds of her spider-emblazoned black robes whipping about in an enchanted breeze. She descended slowly, turning complete circuits to survey the gathering-and to let them look upon the splendor that was their matron mother.
When Malice alighted on the central dais, Briza and Shi’nayne appeared on the ceiling, floating down in similar fashion. They landed and took their places, Briza at the cloth-covered case off to the side of the spider-shaped sacrificial table and Shi’nayne behind Matron Malice.
Malice clapped her hands and the humming stopped abruptly. Eight braziers lining the central dais roared to life, their flames’ brightness less painful to the sensitive drow eyes in the red, mist-enshrouded glow.
“Enter, my daughters!,” Malice cried, and all heads turned to the chapel’s main doors. Vierna and Maya came in, with Rizzen, sluggish and apparently drugged, supported between them and a casket floating in the air behind them.
Dinin, among others, thought this an odd arrangement. He could assume, he supposed, that Rizzen was to be sacrificed, but he had never heard of a coffin being brought in to the ceremony.
The younger Do’Urden daughters moved up to the central dais and quickly strapped Rizzen down to the sacrificial table. Shi’nayne intercepted the floating casket and guided it to a position off to the side opposite Briza.
“Call to the handmaiden!” Malice cried, and Dinin immediately sent the gathering into the desired chant. The braziers roared higher; Malice and the other high priestesses prodded the crowd on with magically enhanced shouts of key words in the summoning. A sudden wind came up from nowhere, it seemed, and whipped the mist into a frenzied dance.
The flames of all eight braziers shot out in high lines over Malice and the others, joining in a furious burst above the center of the circular platform. The braziers puffed once in a unified explosion, throwing the last of their flames into the summoning, then burned low as the lines of fire rolled together in a gathered ball and became a singular pillar of flame.
The commoners gasped but continued their chanting as the pillar rolled through the colors of the spectrum, gradually cooling until the flames were no more. In their place stood a tentacled creature, taller than a drow elf and resembling a half-melted candle with elongated, drooping facial features. All the crowd recognized the being, though few commoners had ever actually seen one before, except perhaps in illustrations in the clerical books. All in attendance knew well enough the importance of this gathering at that moment, for no drow could possibly miss the significance of the presence of a yochlol, a personal handmaiden of Lloth.
“Greetings, Handmaiden,” Malice said loudly. “Blessed is Daermon N’a’shezbaernon for your presence.”
The yochlol surveyed the gathering for a long while, surprised that House Do’Urden had issued such a summons. Matron Malice was not in the favor of Lloth.
Only the high priestesses felt the telepathic question. Why dare you call to me?
“To right our wrongs!” Malice cried out aloud, drawing the whole of the gathering into the tense moment. “To regain the favor of your Mistress, the favor that is the only purpose of our existence!” Malice looked pointedly at Dinin, and he began the correct song, the highest song of praise to the Spider Queen.
I am pleased by your display; Matron Malice, came the yochlol’s thoughts, this time directed solely at Malice. But you know that this gathering does nothing to aid in your peril!
This is but the beginning, Malice answered mentally, confident that the handmaiden could read her every thought. The matron took comfort in that knowledge, for she held faith that her desires to regain the favor of Lloth were sincere. My youngest son has wronged the Spider Queen. He must pay for his deeds.
The other high priestesses, excluded from the telepathic conversation, joined in the song to Lloth.
Drizzt Do’Urden lives, the yochlol reminded Malice. And he is not in your custody.
That shall soon be corrected, Malice promised.
What do you desire of me?
“Zin-carla!” Malice cried aloud.
The yochlol swayed backward, momentarily stunned by the boldness of the request. Malice held her ground, determined that her plan would not fail. Around her, the other priestesses held their breath, fully realizing that the moment of triumph or disaster was upon them all.
It is our highest gift, came the yochlol’s thoughts, given rarely even to matrons in the favor of the Spider Queen. And you, who have not pleased Lloth, dare to ask for Zin- carla?
It is right and fitting, Malice replied. Then aloud, needing the support of her family, she cried, “Let my youngest son learn the folly of his ways and the power of the enemies he has made. Let my son witness the horrible glory of Lloth revealed, so that he will fall to his knees and beg forgiveness!” Malice reverted to telepathic communication. Only then shall the spirit-wraith drive a sword into his heart!
The yochlol’s eyes went blank as the creature fell into itself, seeking guidance from its home plane of existence. Many minutes-agonizing minutes to Matron Malice and all of the hushed gathering-passed before the yochlol’s thoughts came back. Have you the corpse?
Malice signaled to Maya and Vierna, and they rushed over to the casket and removed the stone lid. Dinin understood then that the box was not brought for Rizzen, but was already occupied. An animated corpse crawled out of it and staggered over to Malice’s side. It was badly decomposed and many of its features had rotted away altogether, but Dinin and most of the others in the great chapel recognized it immediately: Zaknafein Do’Urden, the legendary weapon master.
Zin-carla, the yochlol asked, so that the weapon master you gave to the Spider Queen might correct the wrongs of your youngest son?
It is appropriate, Malice replied. She sensed that the yochlol was pleased, as she had expected. Zaknafein, Drizzt’s tutor, had helped to inspire the blasphemous attitudes that had ruined Drizzt. Lloth, the queen of chaos, enjoyed ironies, and to have this same Zaknafein serve as executioner would inevitably please her.
Zin-carla requires great sacrifice, came the yochlol’s demand. The creature looked over to the spider-shaped table, where Rizzen lay oblivious to his surroundings. The yochlol seemed to frown, if such creatures could frown, at the sight of such a pitiful sacrifice. The creature then turned back to Matron Malice and read her thoughts.
Do continue, the yochlol prompted, suddenly very interested.
Malice lifted her arms, beginning yet another song to Lloth. She motioned to Shi’nayne, who walked to the case beside Briza and took out the ceremonial dagger, the most precious possession of House Do’Urden. Briza flinched when she saw her newest “sister” handle the item, its hilt the body of a spider with eight blade like legs reaching down under it. For centuries it had been Briza’s place to drive the ceremonial dagger into the hearts of gifts to the Spider Queen.
Shi’nayne smirked at the eldest daughter as she walked away, sensing Briza’s anger. She joined Malice at the table beside Rizzen and moved the dagger out over the doomed patron’s heart.
Malice grabbed her hands to stop her. “This time I must do it,” Malice explained, to Shi’nayne’s dismay. Shi’nayne looked back over her shoulder to see Briza returning her smirk tenfold.
Malice waited until the song had ended, and the gathering remained absolutely silent as Malice alone began the proper chant. “Thkken bres duis bres,” she began, both her hands wringing over the hilt of the deadly instrument.
A moment later, Malice’s chant neared completion and the dagger went up high. All the house tensed, awaiting the moment of ecstacy, the savage giving to the foul Spider Queen.
The dagger came down, but Malice turned it abruptly to the side and drove it instead into the heart of Shi’nayne, Matron SiNafay Hun’ett, her most hated rival.
“No!” gasped SiNafay, but the deed was done. Eight blade-legs grasped at her heart. SiNafay tried to speak, to cast a spell of healing on herself or a curse upon Malice, but only blood came out of her mouth. Gasping her last breaths, she fell forward over Rizzen.
All the house erupted in screams of shock and joy as Malice tore the dagger out from under SiNafay Hun’ett, and her enemy’s heart along with it. “Devious!” Briza screamed above the tumult, for even she had not known Malice’s plans. Once again, Briza was the eldest daughter of House Do’Urden, back in the position of honor that she so dearly craved.
Devious! the yochlol echoed in Malice’s mind. Know that we are pleased!
Behind the gruesome scene, the animated corpse fell limply to the floor. Malice looked at the handmaiden and understood. “Put Zaknafein on the table! Quickly!” she instructed her younger daughters. They scrambled about, roughly displacing Rizzen and SiNafay and getting Zaknafein’s body in place.
Briza, too, went into motion, carefully lining up the many jars of unguents that had been painstakingly prepared for this moment. Matron Malice’s reputation as the finest salve maker in the city would be put to the test in this effort.
Malice looked at the yochlol. “Zin-carla?” she asked aloud.
You have not regained the favor of Lloth! came the telepathic reply, so powerfully that Malice was driven to her knees. Malice clutched at her head, thinking it would explode from the building pressure. Gradually the pain eased away. But you have pleased the Spider Queen this day; Malice Do’Urden, the yochlol explained.. And it is agreed that your plans for your sacrilegious son are appropriate. Zin-carla is granted, but know it as your final chance, Matron Malice Do’Urden! Your greatest fears cannot begin to approach the truth of the consequences of failure!
The yochlol disappeared in an explosive fireball that rocked the chapel of House Do’Urden. Those gathered only rose to a higher frenzy at the bared power of the evil deity, and Dinin led them again in a song of praise to Lloth.
“Ten weeks!” came the final cry of the handmaiden, a voice so mighty that the lesser drow covered their ears and cowered on the floor.
And so for ten weeks, for seventy cycles of Narbondel, the daily time clock of Menzoberranzan, all of House Do’Urden gathered in the great chapel, Dinin and Rizzen leading the commoners in songs to the Spider Queen, while Malice and her daughters worked over Zaknafein’s corpse with magical salves and combinations of powerful spells.
The animation of a corpse was a simple spell for a priestess, but Zin-carla went far beyond that feat. Spirit-wraith, the undead result would be called, a zombie imbued with the skills of its former life and controlled by the matron mother appointed by Lloth. It was the most precious of Lloth’s gifts, rarely asked for and even more rarely granted, for Zin-carla-returning the spirit to the body-was a risky practice indeed. Only through the sheer willpower of the enchanting priestess were the undead being’s desired skills kept separate from the unwanted memories and emotions. The edge of consciousness and control was a fine line to walk, even considering the mental discipline required of a high priestess. Furthermore, Lloth only granted Zin-carla for the completion of specific tasks, and stumbling from that fine line of discipline inevitably would result in failure.
Lloth was not merciful in the face of failure.