Baenre from finding it at all. To do the latter, she needed to know what Gromph Baenre was doing at all times.

In the past, her daughters' and the House's wizards' scrying spells had been unable to pierce the wards around Gromph Baenre's sanctum within Sorcere, despite frequent attempts. But they had to find a way to do it, and so they would. Yasraena needed to know when the Archmage was coming.

She looked across the basin to Geremis, the aging, bald apprentice to the lichdrow. At that moment, his hairless head irritated her beyond measure.

"Scour your memories for any clue, Geremis," she commanded. "Or I will extract your brain and sift it with my own fingers. Where would the lichdrow have hidden his phylactery?"

Visibly shaking, Geremis shook his head and did not meet her eyes. "Matron Mother, the lichdrow shared such information with no one. Please. Our divinations have-"

"Enough!" shouted Yasraena, and stomped her foot on the stone floor. "The time for excuses is past. Larikal, you and Geremis organize a team to search the House. By hand, on all fours if necessary! Perhaps an ordinary search can find what spells cannot. Keep me informed on the hour."

She knew that Geremis sometimes shared Larikal's bed. Both were ugly, and the thought of their coupling made her ill.

"Yes, Matron Mother," answer Larikal, not daring to argue. To Geremis, Larikal commanded,

"Follow me, male."

Both hurried from the scrying chamber, eager to get out of the way of Yasraena's wrath.

After they had gone, Yasraena looked to Esvena. "You, find a way to penetrate the wards around Gromph Baenre's sanctum within Sorcere." She eyed the two remaining males, both homely, middle aged wizards; she did not even know their names. "You two, assist her. And bolster our own defenses. If you cannot get through the Archmage's wards, or if he or any

Xorlarrin piece of dung breaches ours, I will be displeased."

She let the threat linger in the air.

One of the males cleared his throat and began, "Matron Mother-"

Yasraena lashed out with her tentacle rod. Two of the black, rubbery arms at its end extended themselves and wrapped around the throat of the wizard. He gagged and clutched at the tentacles.

His red eyes went wide; his mouth moved but no sound emerged. With a mental command,

Yasraena ordered the rod to squeeze the male's throat harder.

"You will speak only when I command it," she said and looked into the face of the other male.

He did not meet her gaze. "As I said, the time for excuses is past. Do what needs to be done."

Esvena looked on with a cold smile.

With her free hand, Yasraena backhanded her daughter across the mouth. The younger priestess stumbled back, bleeding from her lip and glaring hate at her mother.

"Do not dare smile in my presence," Yasraena spat. "The fate of our House is at stake. Indulge your petty pleasures after we have defeated our enemies."

Esvena wiped the blood from her lip and lowered her eyes. "Forgive me, Matron Mother," she said.

Yasraena knew the apology to be insincere but would have expected nothing else. She released the male from her rod. He fell to his knees, before the scrying basin, gasping and choking.

"We all live or die with this House," Yasraena announced. "Should I so much as suspect treachery or half-efforts, you will be flayed to death, resurrected, and flayed anew. That process will continue indefinitely until my anger is sated. Do not doubt my resolve."

She eyed her daughter, and Esvena's eyes showed real fear. The males did their best to grovel.

"Proceed with the attempt to scry the Archmage's offices," Yasraena said, "and do not stop until you succeed. Gromph Baenre will be coming and I must know when. I will check back on the hour."

As she turned to leave the scrying chamber, a tremor shook the House, a byproduct of the

Xorlarrin onslaught.

Telepathically connected to her First and Second daughters through the magical amulets they wore, she projected, Anival, what is happening?

Her First Daughter's calm mental voice returned, Xorlarrin ogre shock-troops bearing a magically augmented battering ram attempted the gates. All of them are dead and the ram ruined. The wards hold, and the Xorlarrin cannot gain even the moat. They appear to be regrouping. Another House may join them soon, Matron Mother.

Yasraena knew, but to her First Daughter she replied with only, Very well. Continue on and keep me apprised.

Yasraena did not know how long her House could withstand the continued siege of the Xorlarrin wizards. Wards and protective spells sheathed the House's moat, bridge, and adamantine wall-some of them Yasraena had cast, some her forbears, many the lichdrow-but wards could be broken. So far, the Xorlarrin had not been able to breach them, but sooner or later, given enough time, they probably would.

Yasraena silently prayed to Lolth that the wards would hold for just a short time longer, long enough for the lichdrow to reincorporate and again stand at her side. That was all she would need to save the House. Unless. .

Perhaps there was another way. It galled her, but it might save her House.

She would contact Triel Baenre. At the very least, she might be able to give her House more time.

Without another word, she left her underlings behind and headed for her private chambers. As she exited the scrying chamber, she heard Esvena berating the male wizards.

Traveling the rocky, uneven terrain proved difficult. Pits, gorges, and smoking lakes of acid forced Pharaun and his three traveling companions to weave a circuitous route. They picked their way around gorges and holes, between the tall, black spires of petrified legs. Pharaun particularly disliked walking in the shadow of the petrified spider legs. He felt at any moment that they would return to life and catch them up in their embrace. Spiders and webs thronged the petrified limbs, darting into cracks and crevices.

The wind fought against them as they moved, and it whistled through the songspider webs.

Pharaun was sweating. He felt exposed.

"Mistress," he said to Quenthel. "The passage of hours may bring a dawn. We are under open sky."

Pharaun had no desire to experience the blinding light of another sunrise like he had seen in the World Above.

Quenthel did not look at him. One of her whip vipers-Yngoth, Pharaun was certain-hovered near her ear for a moment. Quenthel nodded.

"A sun will rise over Lolth's Pits," she said. "But it is dim, red, and distant. You have nothing to fear, Master Mizzrym. We will find traveling under its light as easy as traveling by night."

Jeggred snorted and asked, "Do the snakes of your whip fill the holes in your understanding of the Spider Queen's realm, aunt?"

Danifae snickered, or perhaps it was a cough.

Over her shoulder, Quenthel answered, "Sometimes, nephew. They are demons-bound by me-

and have some knowledge of the Lower Planes that I require them to impart. Perhaps Mistress

Danifae can fill in the rest of our understanding?"

She stopped, turned, and looked at Danifae.

The battle-captive did not lower her hood. "When I have something to add," she said, "I will offer it."

Quenthel smiled at her nephew and started again to walk.

"Perhaps we should use spells to transport us, Mistress?" Pharaun suggested to Quenthel,

though he did not know exactly where they were going.

Quenthel shook her head and replied, "No, mage. This is the Spider Queen's realm, and she wants us to experience it. We will walk until I say otherwise."

Pharaun frowned but made no other answer. He could have flown, of course, using the ring he had taken from Belshazu, but decided not to provoke Quenthel. For him, the new Demonweb Pits was an obstacle to be overcome. For Quenthel, it was a religious ordeal to be experienced. Circumventing it would have been heresy.