Was it possible that at long last the matron mother had changed her mind? Or was this some new cruelty, was Miz'ri perhaps going to somehow force Greyanna into an odious proximity with a brother who was still untouchable?
«It might be nice to see Pharaun again,» the younger female said in the blandest tone she could muster.
Miz'ri laughed. «Oh, I daresay it would, to see him and kill him, isn't that the way of it?» «If you say so. You know our history. We played out the whole sava game under your nose.» I imagine you relished every minute of it, she thought.
«Yes, you did, and so I know this will interest you. Sadly, a problem has arisen that even supercedes my desire to get along with the mages of the Academy. While you were away, males continued to desert—» «Pharaun ran off from Sorcere?» Greyanna interrupted, her eyes narrowed. «Were they finally going to punish him for getting those novices killed?» «No, and no! Shut your mouth, let me tell the tale, and we'll come to your little obsession in a moment.» «Yes, Mother.» «Males continue to elope, and despite our warning him off, Gromph still intends to investigate the matter. Hoping to escape our notice and displeasure, he decided to do so by proxy, and summoned a suitable agent to his office to discuss the matter. Happily, we members of the Council possess a scrying crystal with which we recently managed to pierce the obscuring enchantments shrouding the room. Some of them, anyway. We still can't see in, but we can hear what goes on, and that sufficed to reveal the archmage's plan as well as the identity of his minion. Now, if you must, you may excitedly babble your brother's name.» «I imagine Gromph told him this is his one big chance to redeem himself.» «Exactly. The question is, how shall we priestesses respond?» «I gather there's a reason you don't just tell Gromph you're on to his plan.»
«Of course, several. For one, our first confrontation with him was courteous and rnild, but who knows, a second might be less so. As things stand, we hesitate to push him very hard. For another, we don't want him to know we can eavesdrop on him. He'd either block us out or hatch his plots elsewhere. It's better all around simply to take his pawn out of play. Given that Pharaun is a secret operative, whatever may befall him, the archmage can hardly take exception to it. The catch being that dealing with your brother is a formidable undertaking, arguably on any occasion but certainly at the moment.» Greyanna nodded. «Because he's a wizard, and we are. . what we are.» «So where, the Council wondered, can we find a priestess so bold, so motivated, that even now she'll be eager to hunt the male when he descends to the city. I told the others I thought I knew of a candidate.» «You were right.» «The beauty of it is that you do have a personal score to settle. If people see you do something unpleasant to Pharaun, they won't have to wonder what the reason is.» «Yes, I see that. May I draw on all the resources of our House to aid me in my efforts?» «I can only give you a few helpers. If people saw you descend on the city with House Mizzrym's entire army at your back, they wouldn't assume it's a personal matter. You can have your pick of magic weapons from the armory. Don't waste them, though. Expend only what you need.» Greyanna inclined her head. «I'll start preparing right away.» Miz'ri finally smiled, and somehow, in defiance of any reasonable expectation, it made her face more threatening, not less.
FOUR
The Silken Rack was not, as visitors to Menzoberranzan sometimes assumed, a fine cloth emporium. It was, technically, a massage parlor, but only a vulgarian would call it that. Rather, it was a palace of delight, where the most skilled body servants in the Underdark provided what many dark elves considered to be most exquisite of all pleasures. Waerva Baenre was herself of that opinion. She had already soaked her pampered, voluptuous form in warm, scented oil, and she would have liked nothing better to lose herself utterly in the touch of her masseur. But that, alas, was not possible. She'd come to this shrine of the senses on business, business that could be conducted far more safely and discreetly there than in the Baenre citadel or the ambassador's residence in West Wall. That was why she, by nature gregarious, had hired a cozy private room containing only two contoured couches and a pair of hulking deaf-mute human masseurs in preference to her supremely girted Tluth. Happily, the tongueless slave she'd chosen for herself was also highly competent. He kneaded her neck muscles in a way that was pain and bliss at the same time, wringing a groan of sweet release out of her. Naturally, it was at this somewhat undignified moment that Umrae came though the door. Not that Waerva's momentary discomposure made Umrae smile. 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 depended on the advice of two people, Gromph and Quenthel. She can't really talk to Gromph anymore because she's keeping him in the dark with the rest of the males. I doubt she'll see much of Quenthel for a while, either. The tiny she-demon will stay busy contending with her own problems. She's endured some sort of mishap up on Tier Breche.» Umrae twisted her head around to look at her sister conspirator and said, «I've heard rumors about that. What actually happened?» «I don't know—» Though I wish to the goddess I did, she thought— «but whatever it was, it works to our advantage. We want Triel to suffer a dearth of counselors.» «What about her magical new son? They say he accompanies her everywhere.»
Waerva smiled. «Jeggred's not a factor. He's a magnificent specimen but scarcely a font of sage advice. I assure you poor, uncertain Triel will be absolutely frantic for plausible insights from other Baenre priestesses, even the lowlier ones like me. I will buy our friends the time they need to work free of outside interference.» «You will if Triel trusts you.» «In this, she will. We Baenre are proud. It will be inconceivable to Triel that one of our females would wish to abandon the First House in favor of a new life elsewhere. Of course, she wasn't born at the absolute bottom of the internal hierarchy, was she, with dozens of older sisters and cousins taking precedence over her and holding all the important offices. Even if I started recklessly trying to pick them off whenever one lowers her guard even slightly, it could still take me centuries to ascend to a position of genuine power within the family.» «All right, that makes sense. What will you tell her?» «The obvious.» Waerva sighed shakily as her human went to work on her sacroiliac. «For all we know, it may even be the truth.» «I suppose.» Umrae lapsed into a sullen silence. Her body servant's hands made slapping and sucking sounds as they played about her slick, moist, bony back. «By the six hundred and sixty-six layers of the Abyss,» said Waerva, «what ails you? If you're having seconds thoughts, the time for that is well past.» «I'm not. I want to be something better than milady's secretary. I want a surname. I want to be a high priestess and a noble.» «And you will. When your cabal crushes the established order, they'll reward me for my help by making me matron mother of a new but exalted House, whereupon I will adopt you as my daughter. Why, then, do you appear so morose?» «I just wonder. This silence … is it really a boon for us, or a calamity? Are we seizing a great opportunity or madly rushing to our doom?» How much better I'd rest if only I knew, thought Waerva. «Let me ask a question,» the Baenre priestess said. «Deep down in your heart of hearts, did you serve out of reverence or fear?» «I served for power.» «Come to think of it,» said Waerva, «I did, too. So let us seize the power that still sparkles within our reach.» «I—» Umrae moaned and curled her toes as her human finally managed to send a thrill of pleasure singing along her nerves. Waerva thought it was a good sign.