Watching them, Danifae felt a cold, still anger. Not jealousy—she cared nothing for either Ryld or Halisstra—but frustration born of the fact that she had not seduced Ryld first.
Danifae was more beautiful than her former mistress by far. Where Halisstra was lean, with small breasts and slim hips, Danifae was sensuously curvaceous. Halisstra’s hair was merely white, whereas Danifae’s had lustrous silver tones.
As for Halisstra’s face, well, it was pretty enough, with its slightly snubbed nose and common, coal-red eyes, but Danifae had the advantage of skin softer than the blackest velvet, lips that curled in a perpetual pout, and eyebrows that formed a perfect white arch over each of her strikingly colored, pale gray eyes. An advantage she should have used earlier, judging by the display of mawkish sentimentality Danifae had stumbled upon.
Quenthel was already in play, though the older, more experienced priestess was not wholly unaware of Danifae’s immediate desires. It didn’t take a genius to see why Danifae had seduced the Mistress of Arach-Tinilith. It was almost to be expected.
Danifae anticipated a more complicated time of it when she’d have to take on Pharaun and Valas. The Master of Sorcere was wily. He would surely be difficult to fool once things began to turn, but his open dislike of Quenthel gave her something to use. Valas was bought and paid for by House Baenre, and that kind of gold was something Danifae wouldn’t likely happen upon anytime soon. That would be delicate. And Jeggred, well...
But Ryld, with this strange infatuation with her soon-to-be-former mistress, would be a tougher nut to crack.
What good was playing sava, she thought, if you don’t control all of the game pieces?
Valas strode into the ruins, followed by Pharaun and Quenthel, and, a moment later, by the loping Jeggred. The false smile Halisstra gave Quenthel and the way Ryld deliberately met Pharaun’s eyes, confirmed Danifae’s suspicions. Halisstra was preparing to betray her fellow priestess and Ryld his former friend.
Danifae smiled. She didn’t know what they were up to—yet—but whatever it was, she was certain it could be turned to her advantage. She walked out into the clearing, joining them.
With a quick snap of her whip, Quenthel motioned for the others to gather around her.
“Valas has found an entrance to the Underdark,” she announced. “Once we’re safely below, Pharaun will cast a spell. We’re going back to the Demonweb Pits. But not all of us. One of you will carry a message back to Menzoberranzan, to the matron mother.”
As Quenthel’s eyes ranged over the group, Danifae noted the indecision they held. Quenthel was obviously uncertain whom she could spare—or trust. Seizing her chance, Danifae prostrated herself before the high priestess.
“Let me do your bidding, Mistress,” she said. “I will serve you as faithfully as I have served Lolth.”
As she spoke, she cast a baleful eye on Halisstra, hoping Quenthel would take her point. Halisstra had acted blasphemously during their recent journey to the Demonweb Pits and was not to be trusted.
Or course, neither was Danifae. She had no intention or going to Menzoberranzan if she was chosen. Not when there was a wizard in Sschindylryn who might be able to help her to free herself, once and for all, from the odious Binding that tied her to Halisstra.
Danifae felt Quenthel touch her hair, and she looked up expectantly.
“No, Danifae,” Quenthel said, the touch turning into a gentle stroke. “You will stay with me.”
Danifae ground her teeth. Apparently, she’d done too good a job of seducing Quenthel.
Halisstra stepped forward—and, to Danifae’s astonishment, also fell to her knees in front of Quenthel.
“Mistress,” Halisstra said. “Let me carry the message for you. I know that I failed you earlier, in the shadow of the goddess’s own temple. I beg of you now. Please let me... redeem myself.”
“No!” Danifae spat. “She’s up to something. She has no intention of going to Menzoberranzan. She—”
Halisstra laughed.
“And just where would I go, Danifae?” she asked. “Ched Nasad lies in ruins. I no longer have a House to return to. I need to make a new home for myself—in Menzoberranzan. And what better way to start than by braving the dangers of the World Above to carry a vital message to the First House?”
Danifae’s eyes narrowed. She could sense that Halisstra was up to something.
“You’d travel to Menzoberranzan on the surface?” she asked, spitting out the word. “Alone? Through woods crawling with House Jaelre? You’d be captured again before night fell.”
Danifae was pleased to see Quenthel nodding—she was obviously about to reject Halisstra’s foolish notion and send Danifae, instead. Then Halisstra’s lips quirked into a smile—and Danifae realized that, somehow, unwittingly, she’d just played right into Halisstra’s hands.
“This will see me through,” said Halisstra, patting the leather case that held her lyre. “I know a bae’qeshel song that will allow me to walk on wind. Using it, I could reach Menzoberranzan in a tenday, at most.”
Danifae’s eyes narrowed and she said, “I’ve never seen you use a spell like that.”
“What use would it have been in the Underdark?” Halisstra said with a shrug. “There’s no wind—and if there were, I’d only walk straight into a cavern wall. Regardless, I have not been, nor am I now, in the habit of justifying myself to a battle-captive. Our situation has changed some, Danifae, but not entirely.”
Not yet, Danifae thought, then she grasped Quenthel’s knee and pleaded, “Don’t send her. Send me. If Halisstra dies, I—”
“You’d be very, very sorry, wouldn’t you?” Quenthel said with a smirk. She was well aware of the particulars of the Binding. “Halisstra will go. With you here, we will be able to trace her, and at least know that she still lives. And the two of you Houseless wretches are the most expendable.”
Danifae lowered her eyes in acquiescence, even though inwardly she burned with impotent anger. Halisstra, on her own in the World Above, would almost certainly be killed. It would only be a matter of time.
And when she died, the magic of the Binding would see to it that Danifae died, too.
Chapter Three
Valas felt the knot of tension between his shoulders relax—just a little—as familiar darkness enveloped him. The harsh sunlight had been left behind after the third bend in the tunnel. He could still smell the earthy tang of wet leaves that told him the Surface Realms were just above their heads, but the air around him already felt cleaner. As they descended the twisting fissure that led ever downward through the stone, he felt his eyes adjusting to the darkness. Gone was the itching glare of sunlight, allowing him to fully open his eyes and use his darkvision for the first time in too many days.
Behind Valas, Quenthel and the others followed in a line. They’d fallen quiet instinctively as soon as they’d left the sunlight behind. Even the upper Underdark could be a dangerous place for the unwary, and that particular tunnel was unknown territory. Yet compared to Valas, they hardly moved in silence. He could hear the scrape of armor against stone as someone behind him squeezed through a spot where the tunnel had narrowed, forcing them to turn sideways to slip through. A moment later he heard the scuff of a boot and a faint intake of breath as one of the females missed her footing. He turned and angrily started to sign Move more quietly to her, but dropped his hands when he realized it was Quenthel and not Danifae who had slipped. Danifae had once again positioned herself near the back of the group, just ahead of Ryld—not because of the potential dangers ahead, Valas was sure, but, with Halisstra gone, to keep a wary eye on her companions.