Danifae lined up another blow with the mace.
«Then Ssipriina is lying! I can free the high priestess and get her to prove my innocence.»
Halisstra felt elation for the first time since the catastrophic day had begun.
«Possibly,» the battle captive answered dryly, taking another whack at the restraints, «but I doubt many of the matron mothers will choose to believe her. She may still be guilty of her crimes, even if you are innocent of yours. Enough of the matron mothers have an agenda that precludes you walking free from this. More likely—ah ha!»
The link Danifae had been pounding on finally crimped enough to separate the manacles.
Helping Halisstra to her feet, the battle captive continued, «More likely, they'll simply accuse you of trying to help her escape and offering that as a cover story.»
Halisstra eyed the steel restraints still on her wrists, already finding them annoying, but they would have to wait. Free, at least for the moment, Halisstra's fear melted away. She was furious, and she couldn't decide who bore the majority of her anger.
«Well, I'm not just going to sit here while everyone else brings down House Melarn around my ears. Help me get ready, and let's go find that Baenre.»
«As you wish,» Danifae said, moving rapidly with the decision having been made.
With her servant's help, Halisstra quickly began to dress, first attiring herself in a set of plain but functional clothes, then donning her armor, a fine suit of chain mail bearing the coat of arms of House Melarn and several enchantments. Once that was on, Danifae handed Halisstra her mace and shield and scurried about the room to gather up other things Halisstra normally had with her when out in the city or beyond.
When Halisstra was dressed, Danifae grabbed her morning star, each of them wrapped themselves in a piwafwi marked with the insignia of House Zauvirr, and they were ready.
Outside Halisstra's rooms, the halls were quiet. No one had yet been sent to hunt for her, it appeared, for which the priestess was silently thankful. Once away from her private quarters, Halisstra began to breathe a little easier. No one would question two House guards moving through the halls.
That's when the two of them came around a bend in the hallway and spied three strange drow, two of them bruised and bleeding, creeping through the gloom. They were definitely not members of the household, but it took Halisstra another moment or two before she realized they were the three Menzoberranyr.
«Damn,» one of them said, reaching inside his piwafwi as the other two brandished weapons and advanced warily.
TWELVE
Matron Mother Zauvirr wasn't merely angry. Angry was for subordinates who knew to hold their tongues in the presence of their superiors despite their feelings. Angry was for those times when you had to slap a child because it didn't know any better. No, angry wasn't nearly strong enough a word to describe what Ssipriina was feeling. Someone was going to pay for this foolishness. Someone was going to die.
She stormed through the hallways of her own House Zauvirr, having slipped out of Drisinils manor during the confusion and magically transported herself back home. There was something she wanted to get, something she needed, though she hadn't expected to, when the day started. She almost hoped that someone would cross her path as she marched along, that someone would make the mistake of accosting her, of interrupting her train of thought for some idiotic and perfectly pointless reason. She really hoped they would … it would be fun, in a distracting sort of way, to watch some hapless male bleed out as she ripped him up. She was furious enough to do it with her bare hands.
A guard would do nicely, she thought. Any foolish boy who even looks at me.
All of her planning, wasted. All of the careful manipulation, the bribes, the theft, the smuggling of valuables and troops, even the fortuitous arrival of the damnable Menzoberranyr and her clever scheme to fit them into the plan was for naught. Someone had blundered, and she would have his head.
I had them in the palm of my hand, Ssipriina thought. They were ready to anoint me. Even after that ridiculous story the wizard made up.
That obvious attempt to derail her plans wouldn't have stopped her. No one would have believed him, even after her foolish daughter reacted. Ssipriina thought Faeryl had sounded like the petulant child that she still was.
I should never have brought her in on this.
Ssipriina realized her mind was wandering. It was the fury, keeping her from thinking straight.
Faeryl I can deal with later. There's nothing to be done except to fight and win, but it would have been so much easier if the gray dwarves had remained out of sight. Who told them to move out?
As the matron mother arrived at her rooms, she decided that ferreting out the guilty party would also have to wait until later. Her full attention was needed elsewhere. She was about to spring something on the entire city. Something very special. Ssipriina grinned when she imagined it.
Faeryl stumbled and fell against the corridor wall when House Melarn first began to shake.
The servants were screaming, and from somewhere she heard, «Mistresses! It's duergar! Hundreds of them, surrounding us. . they're attacking!»
A second shock wave rumbled through the House.
«They burn the stones themselves, Mothers. The city is burning!»
With a sinking feeling, Faeryl knew it for the truth. She had lived through this experience before, though it had been in the bowels of House Baenre, chained to a column. Even so, she remembered the rumbles from above, felt the vibrations in the ground. When she had been freed by Triel Baenre and invited to join the mission to Ched Nasad, she had gotten all the details of the insurrection in the streets of Menzoberranzan from others. Their descriptions of the jugs of fire, the fire that burned stone itself, were vivid. She could only imagine what it would feel like on a web street of Ched Nasad.
Faeryl groaned. Her mother's plan was falling apart. The duergar weren't supposed to appear unless the negotiations with the other matron mothers went badly. Despite that idiot Pharaun's asinine claim of her involvement in the conspiracy, the situation was far from out of hand.
Mother pulled the trigger too soon, the ambassador decided. She must have gotten cold feet and didn't bother to tell me. How typical.
Shaking her head, Faeryl scrambled up to her feet again as the room was enveloped in a thick, murky fog. She knew who was most likely behind it. As much as she wanted to slice Pharaun into a thousand tiny pieces, there was too much confusion.
Besides, the ambassador grudgingly admitted, he and his boys are not to be trifled with. I'll let mothers wizards take care of them. I've got to get rid of Quenthel and that loathsome beast.
Faeryl felt her way along the wall, stumbling as yet another blast rocked House Melarn. The mist cleared, and she could hear the sounds of combat on the far side of the room. She resisted the temptation to look, as much as she hoped to catch a glimpse of the wizard's demise. Instead, she managed to make her way to a door just as several dozen House soldiers came in, jostling her aside in their efforts to defend the audience chamber.
«Fools!» Faeryl hissed at them.
Almost shaking with rage, she departed the audience chamber and hurried toward the lower levels. She passed few other drow in the corridors, all of them looking confused. None of them seemed to know the origin of the disturbances, and at one point the ambassador overheard at least three priestesses discussing an earthquake as they passed her, going the opposite direction.