«That's all right,» the noble said. «Master Argith and I can reminisce 'bout old times. We'll all wait in the room where Syrzan interviewed the other recruits.» «Perhaps you'd care to tag along,» the craftsman said, «to make absolutely sure the masters don't cause any trouble.» Pharaun beamed up at the bloodthirsty aberration and asked, «Please? There are half a dozen questions concerning drider existence that have perplexed me for years.» Tsabrak ignored him, instead glowering at Houndaer and the artisan as if he suspected them of playing a trick on him. Finally, he said, «Yes. I'll go. Somebody with sense needs to be there.» «Fine.» Houndaer nodded to Ryld and Pharaun and said, «Come this way.» The masters and their hosts, or captors, set off through a maze of passageways. As promised, Pharaun treated Tsabrak to a barrage of questions, and, when the drider failed to respond, cheerfully answered himself with a gush of scholarly speculation. Ryld paid little attention. He was too busy studying the rogues' citadel, a forlorn and dusty place where Pharaun's monologue echoed away into the quiet. No servants were in evidence, merely runaway males and driders, who often recognized their former instructors and curiously peered after them. The marks of magical attacks, bursts of lightning and sprays of acid, scarred the walls. By all appearances, the conspirators were hiding in the seat of a House extinguished by its enemies. No one was supposed to take possession of such a fortress without the Baenre's permission, and few would dare. The vacant castles were supposedly cursed and haunted places, breeding grounds for sickness, insanity, and bad luck. As if to compound the potential for ill fortune, the squatters had broken the copious shrouds of spiderweb wherever they impeded traffic and even in corners where they didn't. At one point, the masters and their warders passed a row of small octagonal windows. The glass was gone but the molded calcite frames remained. Ryld glanced out and saw mansions shining green and violet far below. The rogues had taken a stalactite castle, hanging from the cavern ceiling, for their hiding place. No doubt the isolation had attracted them. A minute later, the little procession reached its destination, a chapel with rows of benches, a crooked aisle snaking up the middle to an asymmetrical basalt altar, and murals, agleam with silvery phosphorescence, carved in bas-relief on the walls and ceiling. To Ryld's surprise, these last depicted not the Demonweb but other hells entirely devoid of spiders, yochlols, or the goddess Lolth herself. Apparently the House that once abode here had sacrificed to forbidden deities. Perhaps that transgression had contributed to its downfall. The dark elves settled themselves in the pews. While Houndaer and the commoner seemed convinced of the masters' claim of estrangement from Tier Breche, they nonetheless retained possession of the newcomers' gear. Tsabrak crouched just inside the door, his legs splayed out on either side of the entrance. «I admire the decor,» Pharaun said. «Without even trying, I noticed images of Cyric, Orcus, Bane, Ghaunadaur, and Vhaeraun. Quite a nice selection of patron powers for the discriminating worshiper.» «We're not looking for a new god,» Houndaer spat.
«I'm sure,» the wizard said. «Perhaps you'd be kind enough to tell Master Argith and me what your grand and glorious scheme is all about. And why now?» «Why now?» the noble asked. «Our fellowship has existed for decades,» the craftsman cut in, «though it's only recently that we all eloped and took up residence here full time. Formerly we merely gathered for an hour or two every fortnight or so.» «If you're a male,» Houndaer said, «and utterly dissatisfied with your place in Menzoberranzan, you need some sort of a refuge, don't you?» «I quite agree,» the wizard said. «Of course, others have opted for a merchant House, the Academy, or Bregan D'aerthe.»
Houndaer made a spitting sound. «Those are just places to hide from the matrons.
This is a fortress for males who want to turn Menzoberranzan upside down and put ourselves on top. Why not? Aren't our mages and even our warriors as powerful as the clergy?» Pharaun grinned and said, «They certainly are now that the priestesses have mislaid their magic.» Houndaer blinked. «You know about that?»
«I've inferred it. You obviously know as well. Otherwise, you wouldn't run about breaking spiderwebs simply for the fun of it, to say nothing of putting your master plan into motion. I'd be curious to hear how you found out and if you know why.» «We don't know why,» Houndaer said, shaking his head. «We started to figure it out after a couple of us saw priestesses die fighting gricks out in the Bauthwaf. The bitches should've used spells to save themselves, but they didn't, and we guessed it was because they couldn't. After that, we kept our eyes open and waylaid a few clerics to see what they'd do to defend themselves. Everything we learned supported our theory.»
Pharaun sighed and said, «Then you aren't in touch with some chatty informant in the realms of the divine. Like me, you merely observed and deduced. What a pity. Aren't you, in your ignorance, apprehensive that Lolth will rekindle the priestesses' magic just when it's least convenient?» «Maybe the goddess turned against the clergy because it's our turn to rule,» said the commoner. «Who's to say? In any case, this is our chance, and we're taking it.» «Your chance to do what?» asked Ryld. «You talk as if you intend to revolt, but instead you're inciting the slaves into an uprising.» Houndaer cursed. «You know that, too?»
«We stumbled on it while looking for you,» Pharaun explained. He brushed a stray strand of his coiffure back into place. His white hair shone like ghost flesh in the soft light shining from the carvings. «As Master Argith noted, on first inspection, whipping the undercreatures into a lather would seem irrelevant to your objective.» «Look deeper,» the noble said. «We're canny enough to know we can't topple the matriarchy all at once. Even without their spells, our mothers and sisters are too powerful. They have too many talismans, fortresses, and, most importantly, troops and vassals serving out of fear.» «I begin to comprehend, and I apologize for not giving you sufficient credit,»
Pharaun said. «This is merely the opening gambit in a sava game that will last a number of years.» «When fighting engulfs Menzoberranzan,» Houndaer said, «and the clerics cast no spells to put down the revolt, their weakness will become apparent to everyone.
Meanwhile, our brotherhood will take advantage of the chaos to assassinate those females who pose the greatest obstacles to our ambitions. With luck, the orcs will account for a few more. At the end of the day, our gender's position in the scheme of things will be considerably stronger, and every male in the city will start aspiring to supremacy.
«In the years to come, our cabal will do whatever we can to diminish the females and put ourselves in their place. One day soon, we'll see a noble House commanded by a male and eventually, a master in every House.» He smiled and added, «Needless to say, a master who belongs to this fraternity. I'll enjoy ruling over House Tuin'Tarl, and I imagine that you, Brother of Sorcere, wouldn't say no to primacy over your own family.» Pharaun nodded and said, «You're far too canny to have forgotten we've all gone rogue. .» «Our kin will welcome us back once we've weakened them to the point where they're desperate for reinforcements. We'll concoct tales of travels to the far ends of the Underdark, or something. It won't matter to them when they're desperate enough.»
«Indeed, you've plotted everything out so shrewdly that I only see one potential pitfall, Pharaun said. «What if the goblins and gnolls should actually succeed in slaughtering us all, or at least inflicting such damage on our city that the devastation breaks our hearts?» Houndaer stared at the mage for a moment, then laughed. «For a moment, I almost thought you serious.» Pharaun grinned. «Forgive me. I have a perverse fondness for japes at inappropriate moments, as Master Argith will attest.» Houndaer smiled at Ryld and said, «I'd just as soon hear him attest that I mastered all those lessons on strategy he pounded into my skull.» «You did,» said Ryld, and perhaps it was true. His instincts told him that this scheme, outlandish as it seemed, might work, and he abruptly realized he didn't know how he felt about the possibility. He and Pharaun had infiltrated the rogues to betray them, to placate the archmage, and because the Mizzrym wizard had some vague notion that they'd achieve greater status and power and thus a permanent cure for Ryld's formless dissatisfaction, thereby. Yet now the conspirators were offering high rank and a role in a grand adventure. Perhaps, then, the teachers should become in truth the rebels they were pretending to be. The warrior glanced over at Pharaun. With a flick of his fingers so subtle that no one else would notice, the wizard signed one word in the silent language: Persevere.