“There are powerful crystal balls that offer telepathy through their scrying,” Yvonnel explained. “They are very rare-many think them rumor and false legend. But we have done that, here, together. We can channel our power through the magic of the scrying waters.”
She was careful to say “our” instead of “your,” and took great pains to concentrate and make sure that K’yorl was no longer in her thoughts. The last thing Yvonnel wanted was for this prisoner to come to the realization that she had some measure of control-what a monster K’yorl Odran might become within this Room of Divination. Could she sit there and attack her enemies from afar, secure in the midst of House Baenre?
That was Yvonnel’s fear, and her hope-as long as she could keep K’yorl under her guidance and her control.
Yvonnel realized then that she could no longer ever allow K’yorl to remain active with the scrying waters without her hands on top of the prisoner’s hands and her thoughts on top of the prisoner’s thoughts.
She sank her fingers back into the stone rim, felt again the soft hands of K’yorl within the magical device.
“Come,” Yvonnel bade K’yorl. “Back out, quickly. Let us find Jarlaxle and his companions and see again through the eyes of the human, Entreri.”
Kiriy giggled as she exited the room, even before the cries of surprise and alarm erupted behind her.
Matron Mother Zhindia and her cabal of priestesses were watching her, she knew, and so she was not surprised when the Melarni gathering reached out magically to slam the Do’Urden audience chamber doors behind her.
“What?” cried out one of the guards in surprise.
“Priestess Kiriy?” asked the other. But the woman was already several steps beyond them.
Kiriy swung about, eyes flashing. “You are Bregan D’aerthe,” she said to one of the men. “And you are Baenre!” she called to the other, in clearly accusatory tones.
The two young warriors looked at each other, then back at her, confused. “Do’Urden,” one replied, but too late. Balls of fire appeared in the air above each of the two, and lines of searing flames shot down over them, immolating them where they stood.
Kiriy laughed again. Matron Mother Zhindia was with her! It had been so many years since she had been involved in an inter-House war. So many boring years! These wars showcased the epitome of drow battle prowess and glory, where priestesses hurled their magic across the city, through scrying portals enacted by infiltrating agents like Kiriy.
These were the fights, priestess against priestess, where Lady Lolth could fully determine the outcome. And now, with the guards writhing and dying on the floor, Kiriy knew with all her heart that Lady Lolth was with her cause.
Priestess Kiriy would depose Dahlia and Matron Mother Zeerith at long last. Lolth was with her, and would see a new House Xorlarrin arise from the ashes of House Do’Urden and from the corpses of those Xorlarrins who chose to side with Zeerith.
She looked again to the audience chamber guards, writhing on the floor pathetically, melting under the wrath of Lolth. She heard the fighting in the audience chamber now-even if her siblings and their allies won out in there, they would be too late to stop the coup.
She pictured the spider-shaped table in House Melarn, brilliantly ornate and as fabulous as the one in the Ruling Council, by all accounts-though Kiriy had never actually seen the one in the chambers of the Ruling Council. Why didn’t the other great Houses of Menzoberranzan have tables, gathering places for priestesses, as beautiful as the one in House Melarn? Why wasn’t a tribute like that commonplace? Surely House Xorlarrin never had such a beautiful tribute to Lady Lolth in all their vast compound.
But House Do’Urden, soon enough to be the new House Xorlarrin, would, Kiriy vowed. She pictured the Melarni war room, the magnificent spider table set between the prized bronze doors, Matron Mother Zhindia in her black gown, her war gown, seated at its head.
And they were with her now. Lolth was with her now.
“Quickly!” Kiriy heard in the air around her, and she smiled. It was Matron Mother Zhindia reminding her, magically whispering to her: “Darthiir is the key! You must be rid of her.”
Kiriy was already moving in that direction, though she didn’t agree with that estimation, and certainly not with the urgency in Zhindia’s voice.
“She is a babbling idiot,” Kiriy whispered, knowing the Melarni priestesses could hear her. “She is no threat.”
“She is Baenre’s puppet,” Matron Mother Zhindia’s voice sounded in the empty air beside her. “Kill her quickly. Sever the tie.”
Kiriy moved more deliberately. She dismissed her curiosity about her siblings and the others in the audience chamber. She would sort out the remains of that battle later.
She heard other fighting then, echoing along the corridors. A young priestess rushed toward her from the side.
“High Priestess!” the younger woman cried. “They have made the balcony!”
“They?”
“Hunzrin!” the young woman explained. “Those guards who arrived have turned on us and have helped reinforcements to our balconies! Our enemies are in the House!”
The frantic young woman turned to sprint away, but Kiriy called to her, “Who are you, young priestess?”
The woman turned and looked at her curiously, clearly perplexed by such a question at that critical time.
“It is all right,” Kiriy assured her. “We will defeat the stone heads. Who are you?”
“Ba’sula,” she replied.
Kiriy studied her more closely, trying to remember this one. “Who is your mentor?” she asked. “Who sent you to House Do’Urden?”
“I serve High Priestess Sos’Umptu in the Fane of the Goddess,” Ba’sula replied.
“Ah, you are Baenre,” Kiriy said, nodding in recognition, and smiling-and if Ba’sula had been more perceptive, she would have known it to be the grin of a hunter.
“What are we to do? Where would you have me go?”
“Go?” Kiriy asked incredulously.
“We are under assau-”
Her voice stopped as she froze in place, caught by a spell of holding cast by the Melarni priestesses. Kiriy felt that magic flowing through her, and felt privileged indeed to be used as a conduit for the glory of the Spider Queen.
She walked by the magically frozen Ba’sula, lifting a hand to gently stroke the young priestess’s smooth neck. She could see the terror in Ba’sula’s eyes, could feel the woman trembling slightly, but only slightly. The spell would allow nothing more. Kiriy thought for a moment that she should keep this one, a plaything for after victory was won.
But no, she was Baenre, Kiriy reminded herself. Keeping her alive, if she was discovered, would give the matron mother all the excuse she needed to throw all her considerable weight at House Do’Urden.
The same hand that so gently stroked Ba’sula’s throat now waved in the air, fingers casting a spell as Kiriy passed.
It was a simple poisoning dweomer, one that would normally kill a victim with little outward sign. But Kiriy had cleverly altered this one, as much for the viewing pleasure of the Melarni priestesses as because she wanted this priestess, this Baenre, to know the full horror of approaching death.
Images of large spiders, a large as Kiriy’s open palm, appeared in the air all around the trapped priestess, floating on strands of glistening webs. They scrambled hungrily, the strands swaying. They leaped to the priestess’s face and shoulders. She saw them-and they bit her. It didn’t matter that they were magical illusions designed to simply add terror to the pain of the poisoning spell. They bit her and she saw them biting, and she felt them biting. They bit her eyes. They crawled into her mouth and they bit her tongue. One skittered down her throat and bit her all the way to her belly.
Kiriy walked away, confident that her display would please Matron Mother Zhindia. She got confirmation of exactly that a dozen steps later, when the Melarni priestesses dispelled their holding spell, freeing Ba’sula Baenre.