“Zaknafein almost had him.” Malice explained, her voice an uncharacteristic whine. “Drizzt was in his grasp, and yet somehow, my son managed to escape!”
“But the spirit-wraith is close on his trail again,” Malice quickly added, seeing Matron Baenre’s disapproving frown. In addition to being the most powerful figure in all of Menzoberranzan, the withered matron mother of House Baenre was considered Lloth’s personal representative in the city. Matron Baenre’s approval was Lloth’s approval, and, by the same logic, Matron Baenre’s disapproval most often spelled disaster for a house.
“Zin-carla requires patience, Matron Malice.” Matron Baenre said calmly. “It has not been so long.”
Malice relaxed a bit, until she looked again at her surroundings. She hated the chapel of House Baenre, so huge and demeaning. The entire Do’Urden complex could fit within this single chamber, and if Malice’s family and soldiers were multiplied ten times over, they still would not fill the rows of benches. Directly above the central altar, directly above Matron Malice, loomed the illusionary image of the gigantic spider, shifting into the form of a beautiful drow female, then back again into an arachnid. Sitting here alone with Matron Baenre under that overpowering image made Malice feel even more insignificant.
Matron Baenre sensed her guest’s uneasiness and moved to comfort her. “You have been given a great gift,” she said sincerely. “The Spider Queen would not bestow Zin-carla, and would not have accepted the sacrifice of SiNafay Hun’ett, a matron mother, if she did not approve of your methods and your intent.”
“It is a trial,” Malice replied offhandedly.
“A trial you will not fail!” Matron Baenre retorted. “And then the glories you will know, Malice Do’Urden! When the spirit-wraith of he who was Zaknafein has completed his task and your renegade son is dead, you will sit in honor on the ruling council. Many years, I promise you, will pass before any house will dare to threaten House Do’Urden. The Spider Queen will shine her favor upon you for the proper completion of Zin-carla. She will hold your house in the highest regard and will defend you against rivals.”
“What if Zin-carla fails?” Malice dared to ask. “Let us suppose…” Her voice trailed away as Matron Baenre’s eyes widened in shock.
“Speak not the words!” Baenre scolded. “And think not of such impossibilities! You grow distracted by fear, and that alone will spell your doom. Zin-carla is an exercise of willpower and a test of your devotion to the Spider Queen. The spirit-wraith is an extension of your faith and your strength. If you falter in your trust, then the spirit-wraith of Zaknafein will falter in his quest!”
“I will not falter!” Malice roared, her hands clenched around the armrests of her chair. “I accept the responsibility of my son’s sacrilege, and with Lloth’s help and blessings, I will enact the appropriate punishment upon Drizzt.”
Matron Baenre relaxed back in her seat and nodded her approval. She had to support Malice in this endeavor, by the command of Lloth, and she knew enough of Zin-carla to understand that confidence and determination were two of the primary ingredients for success. A matron mother involved in Zin-carla had to proclaim her trust in Lloth and her desire to please Lloth often and sincerely.
Now, though, Malice had another problem, a distraction she could ill afford. She had come to House Baenre of her own volition, seeking aid.
“Then of this other matter,” Matron Baenre prompted, fast growing tired of the meeting.
“I am vulnerable,” Malice explained. “Zin-carla steals my energy and attention. I fear that another house may seize the opportunity.”
“No house has ever attacked a matron mother in the thralls of Zin-carla,” Matron Baenre pointed out, and Malice realized that the withered old drow spoke from experience.
“Zin-carla is a rare gift,” Malice replied, “given to powerful matrons with powerful houses, almost assuredly in the highest favor of the Spider Queen. Who would attack under such circumstances? But House Do’Urden is far different. We have just suffered the consequences of war. Even with the addition of some of House Hun’ett’s soldiers, we are crippled. It is well known that I have not yet regained Lloth’s favor but that my house is eighth in the city, putting me on the ruling council, an enviable position.”
“Your fears are misplaced,” Matron Baenre assured her, but Malice slumped back in frustration in spite of the words. Matron Baenre shook her head helplessly. “I see that my words alone cannot soothe. Your attention must be on Zin-carla. Understand that, Malice Do’Urden. You have no time for such petty worries.”
“They remain,” said Malice.
“Then I will end them,” offered Matron Baenre. “Return to your house now, in the company of two hundred Baenre soldiers. The numbers will secure your battlements, and my soldiers shall wear the house emblem of Baenre. None in the city will dare to strike with such allies.”
A wide smile rolled across Malice’s face, a grin that diminished a few of those worry lines. She accepted Matron Baenre’s generous gift as a signal that perhaps Lloth still did favor House Do’Urden.
“Go back to your home and concentrate on the task at hand,” Matron Baenre continued. “Zaknafein must find Drizzt again and kill him. That is the deal you offered to the Spider Queen. But fear not for the spirit-wraith’s last failure or the time lost. A few days, or weeks, is not very long in Lloth’s eyes. The proper conclusion of Zin-carla is all that matters.”
“You will arrange for my escort?” Malice asked, rising from her chair.
“It is already waiting,” Matron Baenre assured her.
Malice walked down from the raised central dais and out through the many rows of the giant chapel. The huge room was dimly lit, and Malice could barely see, as she exited, another figure moving toward the central dais from the opposite direction. She assumed it to be Matron Baenre’s companion illithid, a common figure in the great chapel. If Malice had known that Matron Baenre’s mind flayer had left the city on some private business in the west, she might have paid more heed to the distant figure.
Her worry lines would have increased tenfold.
“Pitiful,” Jarlaxle remarked as he ascended to sit beside Matron Baenre. “This is not the same Matron Malice Do’Urden that I knew only a few short months ago.”
“Zin-carla is not cheaply given,” Matron Baenre replied.
“The toll is great,” Jarlaxle agreed. He looked straight at Matron Baenre, reading her eyes as well as her forthcoming reply. “Will she fail?”
Matron Baenre chuckled aloud, a laugh that sounded more like a wheeze. “Even the Spider Queen could only guess at the answer. My―our―soldiers should lend Matron Malice enough comfort to complete the task. That is my hope at least. Malice Do’Urden once was in Lloth’s highest regard, you know. Her seat on the ruling council was demanded by the Spider Queen.”
“Events do seem to lead to the completion of Lloth’s will,” Jarlaxle snickered, remembering the battle between House Do’Urden and House Hun’ett, in which Bregan D’aerthe had played the pivotal role. The consequences of that victory, the elimination of House Hun’ett, had put House Do’Urden in the city’s eighth position and, thus, had placed Matron Malice on the ruling council.
“Fortunes smile on the favored,” Matron Baenre remarked.
Jarlaxle’s grin was replaced by a suddenly serious look. “And is Malice―Matron Malice,” he quickly corrected, seeing Baenre’s immediate glower, “now in the Spider Queen’s favor? Will fortunes smile on House Do’Urden?”
“The gift of Zin-carla removed both favor and disfavor, I would assume,” Matron Baenre explained. “Matron Malice’s fortunes are for her and her spirit-wraith to determine.”