"Do you really think she's alive in there?" the scout asked.
Pharaun shrugged and said, "At this point, my dear Valas, I'm willing to accept nearly anything. Time seems to have no meaning here—a different meaning anyway. Everything Quenthel says may be true, but then here we are at the very heart of Lolth's domain, and where is she?"
"Where are the souls of the dead?" asked the scout.
"We should be swarmed by departed ancestors, shouldn't we?" Pharaun agreed. "There should be all manner of creatures here: demons, driders, draegloths. ." Pharaun paused to chuckle. "All manner of things that start with 'd'. . but all there is is wreckage and ruins, calcified bone and rotting stone. It's the stuff of an epic lament."
Valas stared into the darkness inside the spider fortress and sighed.
"I don't know my way around in there," the scout said, his voice barely above a whisper, "Why am I still here?"
"You were hired," Pharaun said. "House Baenre pays Bregan D'aerthe. . everyone knows why you're here."
"No, I said, why am I still here?" the scout asked. "I was hired as a guide to get this expedition through the Dark Domain, and I have done that."
"You have indeed," Pharaun replied.
"I never said I knew. ." Valas started, but ended with a sigh.
"You're out of your element," Pharaun said, "as are we all, but we could still certainly benefit from your skills."
"I could have helped you with the demon," said the scout.
"Quenthel wouldn't allow it," Pharaun replied.
"You got us here," Valas said, "and as far as I know, even with the ship destroyed, you're the only one who can get them home, yet she risks you to prove a point that no one needs proven? Does that make sense to you at all?"
Pharaun smiled and shook his head, sliding an errant strand of hair out of his face, then said, "I have been a thorn in the high priestess's side since we stepped out of Menzoberranzan. I've lost track of the various different reasons why she might want to kill me, as I've stopped counting the reasons I'd like to see her dead, too. Still, perhaps she was confident that I could handle the demon on my own. I did, after all."
"There might have been a time when I'd have thought that was good enough," Valas went on, "but after all this, I can't help thinking it's just stupid, and potentially wasteful. Her behavior is erratic."
"I think were all a bit erratic," Pharaun admitted, "but I agree in principle with what you're saying. I think the snakes are whispering to her more and more. She's lost control of both the draegloth and Danifae, has never had control of me, and knows that you're only here because of House Baenre's gold. We finally get to the Demonweb Pits and this is what we find? An ancient ruin? She should be insane. We all should be."
Valas thought about that for a while, and Pharaun waited for him to respond.
"My contract is at an end," the scout finally said.
Pharaun nodded, shrugged, and said, "I will leave that for you to decide, but I have to admit I'd rather have you stay with us than leave. I can use spells, as the priestess asked, to find anything that might still live here, to find any latent sources of magic. If I'm the guide here, fine, but we could well need you again soon. Besides, can you even get back on your own?"
The scout tipped his head up, raised an eyebrow, and gave the hint of a smile that faded before it was completely recognizable.
"Well," Pharaun said, "perhaps you can then. I'm going inside anyway, and if you'd like to join us, so be it. We can discuss why, if you're capable of returning to Menzoberranzan on your own, you're concerned that I might be the only one who can get you back and Quenthel's tried again to kill me."
The scout bowed ever so slightly and held back a smile.
''Why do you care, anyway?" Valas asked.
"About what?"
"All of this," said the scout. "Lolth. ."
The scout nodded and Pharaun replied, "I'm curious. It's a unique challenge for a spellcaster, and my hard-fought position in Menzoberranzan depends on the harder-fought position of my superior, who depends on the matriarchy for his power—his political power, anyway."
Villas nodded and Pharaun gestured toward the rip in the wall of the spider fortress.
"After you?" Pharaun said.
Valas walked past him, but his reluctance was plain in each forced step.
Halisstra couldn't move. She let herself hang in the aether, crying, holding her head in her hands, fending off both Uluyara and Feliane who were trying to comfort her. She could hear them repeating one reassurance after another and could feel them touching her, hugging her, wiping away her tears, but she didn't care. She didn't know what to do, and something was wrong with her.
We brought you along too fast, a voice hummed in her head. It was a female voice, quiet but strong. I'm sorry.
Halisstra blinked open her eyes and looked around for the source of the voice. Uluyara and Feliane had moved away from her—what would have been a few paces if they'd been standing on ground—and both of them stared with open mouths at an apparition floating only just within reach of Halisstra. It was the ghost of a drow female, resplendent in robes of flowing silk, all color drained from her, a wind that Halisstra couldn't feel carrying her long white hair in a halo around her head and brushing her robes out behind her.
"Seyll," Halisstra whispered, the name almost sticking on her tongue.
The shade, who was looking Halisstra directly in the eyes, nodded, and again the voice sounded in her head. Eilistraee has many gifts to offer our sisters from the World Below. Pain, unfortunately, is one of those gifts.
"You can keep it," Halisstra shot back, anger rising to replace the crushing remorse that the disembodied soul of Ryld Argith had left in its wake.
Feliane and Uluyara reacted to her reply with puzzled expressions, and Halisstra realized they couldn't hear Seyll.
I know, the dead priestess replied. Believe me, I know what it's like to experience these emotions all at once and for the first time. Your mind has been trained not to recognize them, but they've been there all along, waiting for you to find them and set them free. Freedom isn't always easy. You've gone on a long journey within yourself to a place where the emotional consequences may be more painful, but the rewards will be greater than you've ever imagined.
I don't care, Halisstra thought back. I don't want it. Right now, I'd go back to the Underdark if I could.
Would you?
In a second, Halisstra vowed. There when I was being manipulated I knew it and knew the ends to which I was being pushed. There I was a priestess and a noblewoman.
And here? Seyll asked. What are you now?
An assassin, Halisstra answered. I'm an assassin in the service of Eilistraee.
What do you suppose is the difference between an assassin and a liberator?
A liberator? Halisstra asked.
When you kill Lolth, Seyll said, and you will kill her, you will set thousands free. . millions.
Dooming them to a life of despair and remorse?
And love, contentment, trust, and happiness, Seyll replied.
Halisstra paused to think about that, but her mind was blank. Her eyes burned, her jaw ached, and she felt heavy—so heavy she actually began to sink in the weightless aether of the Astral Plane.
Feliane and Uluyara appeared on either side of her, holding her gently by the arms. Halisstra didn't look at them or at the ghost of Seyll. Instead, she let her eyes wander up and down the long column of silent souls. The dead were returning to Lolth. Everything she had feared had not come to pass.