The male bowed and stepped beside the throne.

Yasraena drummed her fingers along the haft of her tentacle rod and waited. And waited.

Nearly an hour passed, and she grew increasingly impatient.

A small magical sensor materialized in the throne room, a fist-sized, red globe that would have been invisible but for Yasraena's augmented eyes.

"I see it, Matron Mother Baenre," Yasraena said to the sensor.

At the mention of Triel's title, Ooraen gave a visible start. Yasraena turned to him and said,

"Cast your clairaudience spell in the reception hall of House Baenre."

Yasraena knew that Ooraen had never seen the inside of House Baenre but that did not matter.

An adequate verbal description of the desired location would serve.

After only a moment's hesitation, Ooraen removed a tiny metal horn from his cloak, held it to his ear, and recited the words to his spell. When he completed the divination, Yasraena heard

Triel's voice through the sensor: "Greetings, Yasraena."

That Triel had called her by her given name rather than her title was an intentional slight, but

Yasraena gulped down her anger. She waved Ooraen from the chamber, and the wizard fled down the aisle.

"Greetings, Matron Mother Baenre," Yasraena replied.

"How fares House Agrach Dyrr?" Triel asked, and Yasraena heard the sarcastic smile in the voice.

"Well," Yasraena answered, defiant. "House Agrach Dyrr fares well."

Triel's laughter carried through the sensor.

Yasraena ignored it and said, "Matron Mother, I sought this communication so we might discuss a settlement."

"Indeed?" Triel answered.

"Indeed," Yasraena replied and wasted no further time with conversational niceties. "House

Agrach Dyrr's alliance with the forces besieging Menzoberranzan was undertaken in secret by the lichdrow. By the time I learned of it, the plot already was in motion. Since then, I have endeavored to quietly undermine the lichdrow's plots at every turn. Now that his body is destroyed-"

"Now that your ambition has proven far too large for your capabilities," Triel interrupted,

"you wish to sue for peace. Is that not so, Yasraena?"

Yasraena could not keep anger from her own voice. "You mistake me, Matron Mother

Baenre. I-"

"No," Triel interjected. "You mistake me. You seek to save your House by blaming your own failings on the lichdrow. Even if what you said was true, it simply demonstrates your own incompetence to rule."

Yasraena gripped the tentacle rod so tightly in her hand that her fingers ached. Anger burned in her, and she almost exploded at Triel. Almost.

Instead, she calmed herself and answered. "Perhaps you speak some truth," she said, slightly emphasizing the word 'some. "Which is why I wish to make you an offer."

Silence. Then, "Speak it."

"House Agrach Dyrr is made a vassal House to House Baenre for five hundred years, the arrangement to be ratified by the Ruling Council. My House will be removed from the Council-"

temporarily, Yasraena added to herself-"and in the meanwhile will be under Baenre rule and protection during that half-millennium period. I and it will be at your disposal, Matron Mother."

Yasraena knew the offer to be a bold one. It had been long since any of the city's Houses had been made a formal vassal to another. But it was not unheard of, and she had few other options.

A long silence followed, during which Yasraena held her breath. No doubt Triel was mulling the possibilities.

At last, Triel said, "Your offer has some small potential, Yasraena."

Yasraena exhaled.

Triel continued, "To show me your sincerity, you will destroy the lichdrow's phylactery."

Yasraena had expected nothing less. "Of course, Matron Mother. I am in the process of locating it but the siege makes it difficult. As does what I presume to be the inevitable assay of the Archmage. Temporarily halt the siege and restrain your brother. When I have the phylactery,

I will contact you again and provide evidence of its destruction."

Triel laughed. "Do not be foolish, Yasraena," she said. "You will demonstrate your worthiness to be a vassal House to House Baenre by finding and destroying the phylactery even while House Agrach Dyrr is under siege by the Xorlarrin. And if the Archmage decides to try your defenses, then you will abide that too. Or you will not. And if not, then destruction is what your House warrants."

Yasraena bit back the angry words that flew to her lips. She had little choice but to accept.

"Your terms are reasonable," she said through gritted teeth.

"I'm pleased you find them so," Triel answered. "Do not contact me again, Yasraena, unless it is to provide evidence of the lichdrow's destruction."

With that, the connection went quiet. A heartbeat later, the sensor in Yasraena's reception hall dematerialized.

Yasraena sat in her throne and thought, her mind racing. She had made her play but was not sure how it would unfold. If she did in fact locate the phylactery, she was undecided whether she would honor the terms of the deal or instead safeguard it until the lichdrow could reincorporate.

A part of her very much desired the permanent destruction of the meddling undead wizard, but the pragmatist in her knew that she weakened her House, if not her own personal position within it, by destroying the lichdrow. But to throw herself on the mercy of House Baenre. .

Yasraena shook her head. She had no decision to make if her House fell to the Xorlarrin or

Gromph Baenre found the phylactery before her. She rose and went searching the halls for

Larikal.

Silence reigned for the next several leagues of travel as Pharaun and his cohorts picked their way through the towers of stone and the blasted ground. The entire plane, the very air, felt restive and stretched, as though about to explode.

Over the hours, the wind grew steadily more forceful, with intermittent gusts so strong that

Pharaun had to lean forward to avoid being blown off his feet. The gusts howled between the towers of stone, set the songspider webs to screeching, and stirred up a blizzard of spiders, dirt,

webs, and loose scree. Jeggred protected Danifae from the living hail with his hulking body.

Pharaun shielded himself with his magical piwafwi. Quenthel merely smiled into the storm and held her arms outstretched to provide a haven for any spiders that blew onto her. After a time,

spiders teemed in her hair and on her piwafwi.

She was home, Pharaun realized, and pulled the hood of his magical cloak lower to protect his face. The Yor'thae was returning home.

The gusts grew more frequent and still more intense with each passing hour. An increasingly powerful hail of pebbles, webs, and spiders pelted them, like a blizzard of sling bullets. The keening webs sounded more and more like the agonized wail of a creature in pain. Pharaun had little experience with surface weather patterns, but even he could smell a storm on the wind.

"Perhaps we should find shelter," he said above the shrieking winds.

"Faith is our shelter, mage," Quenthel answered back, the wind whipping her hair around her face. A small black spider crawled over her eyelid, down her nose, and over her lips. She only smiled.

Danifae put back her cloak hood and cocked her head as though she heard something. Red spiders thronged her hair too, and her face.

"Can you not hear it in the keening, mage?" Danifae shouted. "The Spider Queen calls us onward. We continue."

Pharaun squinted into the wind, looked from one priestess to the other, and said nothing. He heard nothing in the wind but the abominable screech of the webs. And as for faith providing a shelter? He knew better than that. He had seen Lolth's faithful trapped in a web atop a tor,

waiting to be fed upon. That was the shelter provided by faith in the Spider Queen.