The flat stares turned mildly baleful, but after some careful consideration, the one who spoke finally nodded curtly and slipped inside, shutting the door behind her and leaving her partner to stare icily at the archmage while he folded his arms and tapped his foot.

Just when Gromph was seriously considering whether or not to make good on his threat, the door opened and the guard appeared again, motioning him through. Arching his eyebrow as though to say, «what else did you expect?» he pushed past her impatiently and shoved the door shut behind him.

Triel was not in the front room, though that didn't really surprise the wizard. Usually, if she was going to bother to be presentable for guests, she would see them in the audience chamber. He figured his odds were about even as to whether he'd discover her in the bedroom or in the baths, most likely with a lover. He tried the bedroom first, with no luck.

Moving through into the bathroom, Gromph found his sister, alone except for a pair of attendants, eyes closed and soaking in an oddly scented oil bath. The odor permeated the room and made him cough.

Triel opened one eye and looked at the wizard, then closed it again, making no move to greet him.

«You really shouldn't threaten my guards like that,» she said, a bit testily. «They're standing there to keep the likes of you out, you know.»

«A thousand apologies, Matron Mother,» Gromph answered. «I will be certain to avoid helping you in the future. Please do drop by sometime and I'll be sure to keep you waiting outside my offices.»

This time, both of Triel's eyes opened, but instead of growing angry, she appeared worried.

«What is it?» she asked. «Your news must be particularly unpleasant for you to behave so boorishly.»

Gromph had to chuckle, but it was a bitter laugh.

«You know me better than most, sister. I suppose I should give you more credit. You're correct, though, the news is bad, and it comes from several fronts. Our patrols are telling me that traffic is picking up on the outskirts of the city. Nothing definitive, but they're growing fearful that we're due for some sort of aggressive act from somewhere, and soon.»

«What sort of traffic?» Triel asked, shifting in the bath so that an attendant could begin to scrub her back with a rough cloth.

«Hard to say. Enough species come and go as it is, but they have reported an inordinate number of troglodyte sightings the last few days.»

Triel made a noise in her throat, and at first Gromph wondered if it was in response to the ministrations of the attendant, but he realized it was derisive when his sister said, «Troglodytes? They've never been able to muster any sizable threat against us. You came all the way over here and harassed my guards to tell me that? Please.»

Gromph clicked his tongue in vexation and strode across the tiled floor to take a seat on a long bench along one wall.

«No, of course not, but don't be so quick to dismiss any potential threat. More than enough generals saw their last battle from underestimating the enemy. We're vulnerable to any attack right now, and you know it.»

«Fine, I'll take it under advisement,» Triel said. «So, what else do you have to tell me? I'd like to enjoy the rest of my bath, but if you insist on giving me more bad news, I don't think I shall be able to.»

Gromph shook his head.

«Yes, there is more bad news,» he said.

«Oh, wonderful.»

«I'm hearing bad things from our expedition to Ched Nasad.»

The matron mother rolled over and sat up, shooing away the attendant. She seemed unconcerned that her upper body was exposed to him, though Gromph ignored that fact.

«What kind of bad things?» she asked, her tone grave.

«The last communication I received reported that riots were beginning. I haven't heard anything since, and the next reports are overdue.»

«How long?» «Two days. I already relayed that information to you.»

«Do you have a means of contacting him?» Triel asked.

«Yes, but not for a while, and not really for the kind of conversation I suspect you'd like for me to have with him. Even with what I can do, I'll have to make preparations to use the appropriate magic.»

«Fine, do that. In the meantime, what are your thoughts?»

Gromph considered the question then said, «Do I believe they are alive? Let's give them some credit. They are an enterprising lot, and I have no doubt that they can take care of themselves. That's half the reason you sent them away, isn't it?»

Triel's eyes narrowed slightly as she stood and let the oil cascade from her body.

«I do want them to succeed,» she said. «It aids us nothing for them to perish, regardless of whatever benefits we both receive for having a few specific ones out of the way.»

She motioned for the attendant to bring her a towel and had it wrapped around herself.

Gromph's stare was carefully neutral.

«I want them to succeed, too,» he said. «My issues aside, this crisis affects every aspect of my studies and pursuits. My point was, if they were ingenious enough to be considered a threat here, I think they can take care of themselves in Ched Nasad.»

«Find them,» the matron mother commanded, «and let me know when you do.»

«Even if I have to threaten your guards again?»

«Even if you have to leave them as piles of ash on my doorstep.»

Gromph nodded and turned away as Triel began to dress with help from the two attendants. The archmage stopped and turned back to face his sister.

«Oh, and one more thing.»

Triel looked over at her brother and asked, «Yes?»

«Will you please remind the other matron mothers of the importance of timely response to threats inside the city? I asked for reinforcements for several specific sections three hours ago, and they were still not in place when I came to visit.»

«Again?» Triel sighed. «Yes, of course I will speak to them again.»

«You know,» Gromph added, almost as an afterthought. «It would probably help if House Baenre spared some extra soldiers for the cause. A show of good faith and all that.»

«Really? Do you think we can afford to spare them?»

«I know of two right outside this door who could be put to far better use,» the archmage replied, giving his sister a last, meaningful stare.

«Explain to me again what you think I have to gain by trusting you,» Quenthel said, gnawing at a strip of dried roth meat.

The seven of them were hiding in a mess hall in an unused wing of House Melarn. Only Jeggred was no longer hungry, having sated himself back in the dungeon.

It certainly took Faeryl a long time to die, Pharaun thought, shuddering, as he sat watching the draegloth lick himself clean. The wizard was having a hard time blocking out the image of the drow, still moving, still watching, even as the fiend had begun to feast.

Ryld and Valas stood guard near the door, both of them obviously anxious to be on their way. The rumbles from beyond the walls had ceased for the moment, and Pharaun wasn't sure whether that boded well or ill for them. If the fighting had been quashed that quickly, it was only a matter of time before Ssipriina began searching for them again. He was eager to be away, too.

As Quenthel continued to inhale the food, Halisstra pursed her lips and tried again to defend her usefulness to the Menzoberranyr.

«I can get you out of the House without notice,» she said. «I know the best routes to take. If we encounter any of Ssipriina's guards along the way, I might be able to dismiss them without incident. Until you're safely out of the city, having the two of us accompany you is to your benefit.»

Quenthel nodded as she ate.

«Perhaps,» she said, pausing to sip from a waterskin. «Or perhaps you would simply like to lead us into ruin in your own way, maybe by lulling us into trusting you so that you can betray us to Ssipriina. For all I know, you still hold me responsible for the death of your mother, or are at the very least angry about my intentions.»

Halisstra rolled her eyes where Quenthel could not see, and Pharaun had to quell a bemused smirk.

At least I'm not the only one who finds her unbelievably irrational at times, he thought.

«Yes, all of that could be true, certainly,» Halisstra said, «but then I wouldn't have had much to gain by helping to rescue you when Ssipriina already had you in her clutches, don't you think?»

«Hmm,» Quenthel said doubtfully, another bite of food in her mouth. She finished chewing and looked over at Pharaun. «What's your opinion?»

The Master of Sorcere sat up straighter, surprised that she was seeking his counsel.

I suppose that when you're surrounded by the bigger enemy, he mused, the smaller enemy seems a friend.

«Well, thus far they've given us no reason to doubt them,» he answered. «Except, of course, their heritage itself. Regardless of whether you're inclined to trust a dark elf you've never met—a dark elf of a House that you so recently intended to betray, at that—our options seem severely limited without their company. I don't suppose we'd be all that worse off, anyway, should they decide to turn on us at an inopportune time.»

Quenthel made a face at the wizard.

«Are you thinking with the right part of your body?» she asked sarcastically, nodding in the direction of Danifae, who sat on a couch off to one side, listening to the discussion.

When she became a part of it, she lowered her eyes demurely and folded her hands into her lap.

Pharaun smirked.

«Oh, absolutely, Mistress Baenre,» he said dryly. «Nothing would please me more than to have additional females along on this trip, all with a ready suggestion on how something should be handled or a friendly comment on ways I might improve my demeanor for the benefit of everyone around me.»

Halisstra's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and the wizard remembered again that she was unaccustomed to his manner with Quenthel.

For that matter, he thought, noting the high priestess's scowl, Quenthel herself is unaccustomed to my manner.

Taking a slightly more conciliatory tone, Pharaun added, «With all due respect, regardless of which part of my body I'm currently using to contemplate this matter, it seems undeniable that we stand much to gain and little to lose by trusting them, at least for the moment. Ask me again in half an hour, and my answer might be markedly different.»

Quenthel chewed her roth thoughtfully, though whether she was mulling his point or whethet she was considering whether or not to allow Jeggred to dismember him, Pharaun wasn't sure.

«In any event,» he finished, «we can ensure ourselves some degree of protection by keeping them close, under our scrutiny. If they lead us into a trap, we might yet negotiate with Ssipriina Zauvirr. . turn them over in exchange for our own freedom. Only if we don't tell the matron mother what happened to Faeryl, of course,» he added with a grin.