“Where are the duergar now?” she asked.
“About three miles south of us,” replied Andzrel. “House Mizzrym currently serves as rear guard, though I’ve sent almost a hundred of our own soldiers to stiffen the defense.” Triel understood what Andzrel really meant—he’d put Baenre soldiers beside the Mizzrym to make sure that another betrayal of the sort Agrach Dyrr had engineered didn’t take place. “The Scoured Legion advances through another passage to our east, circling around us. We don’t dare try to make a stand in this tunnel, or the tanarukks will get by us.”
“It would only take a hundred soldiers to hold this tunnel against almost any force, wouldn’t it?” Triel asked.
“Yes, but the duergar have enough war wizards in their ranks, and siege engines in their train, that they wouldn’t be halted for long by a rearguard action.”
“Try it anyway,” Triel grated. “Use slave troops, and leave enough officers behind to make sure they don’t break and run. We need time, Weapons Master, and that’s what rear guards are for.”
Andzrel didn’t argue the point, and Triel paced away to gather her thoughts. Drow rebels, slave revolts, duergar armies, dark treachery, a missing archmage, and tanarukk hordes—it was hard to see how matters could get much worse. Where could she even start to address any of these problems? Assault Agrach Dyrr, without the magical might of the city’s assembled priestesses? Pick another spot to meet the duergar, and allow the tanarukks to sweep past?
“How did this happen?” she muttered aloud.
“Agrach Dyrr was in league with our city’s enemies,” Zal’therra replied. “They contrived to make up the vanguard of our army, and instead of holding the Pillars of Woe against the gray dwarves, they led us into a trap. They must be obliterated for their treachery.”
“I was not speaking to you,” Triel growled, and this time she could not restrain herself.
Though she knew Zal’therra was not to blame for the disastrous battle, she had to strike out at something. She slapped the girl, hard, rocking her to her heels despite the fact that Zal’therra towered almost a foot taller than her, and outweighed her by thirty pounds.
“You must come to expect treachery, you simpleminded fool!” Triel snarled. “Why were there no Baenre officers among our scouts? Why did you take no steps to verify the reports the Agrach Dyrr fed to you? If you had exercised even the most minimal amount of caution, our army would not be in tatters.”
Zal’therra shrank back, saying, “Matron Mother, we all approved of Andzrel’s plans—”
“Andzrel is a weapon, Zal’therra. Our House army is a weapon. Yours is the hand that must wield those weapons against our enemies. I sent you out to exercise your judgment and make decisions, to use your head and think!”
Triel whirled away to keep herself from striking Zal’therra again. If she did, she didn’t think she’d be able to stop, and like it or not Zal’therra was probably the most promising of her cousins. Triel wouldn’t be around forever, and she needed to give thought to leaving House Baenre with at least a few competent priestesses in the event that the day came when she would have to have her sisters murdered.
“Matron Mother,” the girl managed, her eyes wide with fear, “I apologize for my failure.”
“I never asked for an apology, girl, and a Baenre should never offer one,” the matron mother rumbled, “but I will give you the opportunity to demonstrate that you have some redeeming portion of merit and resourcefulness. You will take command of the rearguard.”
Triel gestured toward the south. There was an excellent chance that she was sending her cousin to her death, but she needed to know if Zal’therra had the wits and the resolve to become a leader of House Baenre, and if she found a way to survive the assignment and obtain any degree of success at all, Triel might consider permitting her to live.
“Make the duergar fight for every step they take toward Menzoberranzan,” Triel added. “Your survival depends on your success. If you abandon this tunnel before three days pass, I will have you crucified.”
Zal’therra bowed, and hurried off. Triel turned back to the weapons master.
“Understand that I do not hold you blameless, either,” she said in a low voice.
“You were the author of our grand strategy, and I committed the full weight of House Baenre’s power and prestige to your battle plan, which has led us to a disaster the likes of which we have not seen since Mithral Hall. In any other circumstances, I would have you dumped into a pit of hungry centipedes with your tendons slashed for your failure, but. . . these are unusual times, and there exists the small possibility that your skill and grasp of strategy may prove useful in the days to come. Do not fail me again.”
“Yes, Matron Mother,” Andzrel said, bowing low.
“So,” she continued, “where do we stop the duergar and their allies?”
Without hesitation, the weapons master replied, “We do not, Matron Mother. Given the losses we have already suffered, I advise withdrawing back to Menzoberranzan and preparing for a siege.”
“I do not like that option,” Triel snapped. “It reeks of defeat, and the longer an army sits on our doorstep, the more likely it is that they’ll be reinforced by the arrival of some other enemy, such as the beholders or the mind flayers.”
“That is possible, of course,” Andzrel said, his voice carefully neutral, “but the gray dwarves will not find it easy to maintain a siege around Menzoberranzan, a hundred miles from their own city. I don’t think the duergar can wait us out for more than a few months, and I doubt they have the numbers to take the city by storm. Our best course of action is to make the duergar set their siege, and see what kind of a threat we’re really facing. It would provide us the opportunity to crush House Agrach Dyrr in the meantime.”
“You’re afraid to face the duergar in battle again?” Triel rasped.
“No, Matron Mother, but I will not advise a course of action that hazards the city on a battle for which we are not prepared, not unless we have no other choice. We are not yet at that point.” He paused, then added, “We can always gather our strength within the city and sally in force in only a few days, if we see the need or the opportunity.”
Triel weighed the weapons master’s advice.
“I will return to Menzoberranzan and set the matter before the Council,” she said at last, “but, until you’re ordered otherwise, continue your withdrawal. I will have our captains in the city make ready to withstand a siege.”
Halisstra opened her eyes and found herself drifting in an endless silver sea. Soft gray clouds moved slowly in the distance, while strange dark streaks twisted violently through the sky, anchored in ends so distant she couldn’t perceive them, their middle parts revolving angrily like pieces of string rolled between a child’s fingertips. She glanced down, wondering what supported her, and saw nothing but more of the strange pearly sky beneath her feet and all around her.
She drew in a sudden breath, surprised by the sight, and felt her lungs fill with something sweeter and perhaps a little more solid than air, but instead of gagging or drowning on the stuff she seemed perfectly acclimated to it. An electric thrill raced through her limbs as she found herself mesmerized by the simple act of respiration.
Halisstra raised her hand to her face in an unconscious desire to shield her eyes, and she noticed that her eyesight was preternaturally keen. Each link of her mailed gauntlet leaped out in perfect symmetry, its edges boldly defined, the leather of her gloves gleaming with discrete layers of oils and stains. Words failed her.