Satisfied the matter was resolved, Malice decided it was time to tell the others why she had gathered them together. "I have concocted a plan," she announced in a bold voice. "A plan that, if it succeeds, will bring the favor of Lloth upon House Do'Urden.

Vierna and Maya, Briza's younger sisters, exchanged puzzled looks.

"But do we not already enjoy the favor of the Spider Queen?" Vierna asked in a tentative voice.

Maya's tone was more confident. "After all, we are Ninth House of Menzoberranzan now."

Malice's eyes narrowed as she regarded her two youngest daughters. Though both were nearly high priestesses, they were not such yet, and should not have spoken without her leave. Yet their words served her, and she chose to let the affront pass without comment.

"Yes, we are the Ninth House," Malice replied. "But is it not better to be eighth than ninth?"

A hot light ignited in the eyes of her daughters, and Malice knew she had chosen well. Being Eighth House meant gaining a seat on the ruling council-a seat that one of her daughters would one day inherit. A smile coiled about the corners of Malice's dark red lips. Desire was a stronger motivator than punishment. Now Vierna and Maya gazed at her with eager expressions.

Malice raised a hand to her throat. "I am thirsty. I require wine."

Throughout the discussion, her two sons had stood in silence to one side. It was not a male's position to speak concerning house affairs unless directly asked. At eleven years, and by far the younger of the two, Drizzt had only recently become page prince, and was not yet a true noble. Thus, serving the matron mother was his duty. However, the boy seemed not to have heard her words, he continued to gaze at his feet, as a page prince was taught to do in the presence of nobles. After an uncomfortable moment, Dinin, who was elderboy of House Do'Urden, boxed Drizzt on the ear, jerking the boy out of his stupor.

"You heard the matron mother," Dinin hissed. "She requires wine."

The boy Drizzt blinked and gave a jerky nod. He hurried to a gilded table upon which rested crystal glasses and a decanter of dark mushroom wine.

Malice did not wait, but went on. "The Festival of the Founding approaches, the day on which we recall the founding of Menzoberranzan over five thousand years ago. Do any of you know what is to happen on that day?"

"I know."

All stared in shock at the boy Drizzt. He stood before Malice, holding out the cup of wine. For Dinin, a full-grown elf, to speak without leave would have been a grave offense. For a page prince, it was unthinkable. However, before Malice could react, the boy continued.

"On the Festival of the Founding, the Spider Queen is supposed to appear somewhere in the city." Drizzt frowned as he thought out the details. "Only she appears in disguise. I suppose that's so she can see what the drow really think about her."

Briza was the first to recover. She lunged forward, gripping her snake-headed whip. "You idiot!" she snarled. "That's only an old story." She raised the whip. Drizzt stared at her in fear but did not flinch.

A hand shot out, halting the whip's descent.

"It happens to be a true story, you fool," Malice hissed, her rage now directed at her daughter.

Briza stared in dull astonishment.

Malice made a sound of disgust. "Perhaps you were given the mantle of high priestess too soon, Briza, if a child – and a boy child at that – knows more than you."

Briza started to stammer an apology, but Malice turned away. She bent over the boy, gripping his chin tightly in her hand, lifting his head with cruel force. The cup fell from his fingers, and wine spilled across the floor like dark blood. She gazed into the boy's eyes, holding them by force of will, so they could not look elsewhere. His eyes were an unusual color. Lavender. As always, Malice wondered at this. What did they see that other eyes did not?

"Tell me what else you know about the Festival," she commanded.

The boy stared at her in mute terror. She tightened her grip, her fingers digging into his flesh.

"Tell me!"

Despite his fear, Drizzt managed to speak. "I don't really know anything else," he breathed. "Except that on the festival day, you have to be nice to everybody, even goblins and bugbears, because there's no telling what shape Lloth might put on. That's all."

She searched his strange purple eyes a moment more, then nodded, satisfied he spoke truth. He was peculiar, this youngest son of hers, and difficult to train in the most basic matters of behavior and respect. However, there was a power in him. She sensed it. Right now it was unshaped. But if she could forge it with her will and temper it with the proper experiences, he would be a powerful weapon in her hands one day.

Malice released the boy. Drizzt stared in confusion until Dinin, face angry, motioned for him to return to his side. No doubt Dinin would punish the boy later for embarrassing him with disobedience, as it was his role to instruct the boy in the proper manners of a page prince. Malice would not intervene. That was Dinin's right. And it would only strengthen the boy.

Malice addressed her family then. "Child though he is, Drizzt is correct. The tale is not simply a legend, though many believe it to be. On the Festival of the Founding, the Spider Queen will indeed appear somewhere in the city. And if she were to appear within a noble house that house would know great honor and would surely prosper in the coming year." Her voice dropped to a self-pleased purr. "And my plan will make certain it is House Do'Urden where Lloth chooses to appear." Zaknafein laughed at this. "With all due respect, you are very sure of yourself, Matron Mother." "As well I should be," Malice snapped. What had she done to be cursed with such precocious males? At least Dinin knew his place. "How do you intend to bring Lloth here?" Briza asked in meek tones, clearly attempting to regain her mother's favor.

Malice let Briza believe she had succeeded. "With this," she answered. From her gown, she drew out a small, dark stone carved in the shape of a spider. A single red ruby glistened on its abdomen. "This spiderjewel will lead whoever bears it to the resting place of an ancient and holy relic-a dagger once wielded by Menzoberra, she who founded our city in the name of Lloth so long ago. I have been assured by the one who gave me this spiderjewel that, were we to regain the Dagger of Menzoberra, Lloth would certainly grace us with her presence as a reward."

The others absorbed this information and nodded- except for Zaknafein, who again asked a skeptical question. "And how did you come by this information and this jewel?"

Malice gave him a flat glare. "I summoned a yochlol."

The others stared at her in horror and amazement- including, to her satisfaction, Zaknafein.

"Yes, I did it myself," she went on. "A great risk, but then Lloth favors those who take risks."

Despite her pleasure, Malice shuddered at the memory of the dark, secret ceremony. One did not summon one of the Handmaidens of Lloth on a whim. Though Malice was five centuries old and matron of the Ninth House, even she had trembled at the sight of the bubbling, amorphous being that had appeared in the midst of the magical flames she had conjured. Had it been displeased with her call, the yochlol might have turned her into a spider and squashed her with a shapeless hand. But the time had seemed propitious to risk the summons, and Malice had been right. The yochlol had been pleased with her obeisance, and had given her the spiderjewel and the answer to her question-how to increase her stature in the eyes of Lloth.

She approached the weapons master. "Zaknafein, I charge you with the spiderjewel, and with finding the Dagger of Menzoberra, in the name of House Do'Urden." She held out the dark gem.