Extinction

"Not at all," Nimor assured him, a twinkle in his eye. "You also have a chance at victory?an excellent chance. I've taken steps to take House Baenre out of the fight with a little surprise that I've got planned for its matron mother. Once Triel is eliminated, the other females of House Baenre will begin vying for her throne. The companies each commands will begin fighting each other?which will keep them too busy to bother about something so insignificant as defending their city.

"When the other noble Houses see Baenre in disarray, they'll sense its weakness and strike. One or more of them will try to usurp Baenre's position as First House. While they're busy fighting each other, Lord Vhok's troops can swoop in and seize Qu'ellarz'orl."

Vhok scowled and said, "An interesting theory."

"It's not just theory," Nimor countered. He paused to brushed rock dust off the sleeve of his immaculately tailored gray shirt. "It's drow nature. We're like spiders reacting to the twitching of a web. When we think we have our prey at our mercy, we strike.

"Only this time," Nimor said, "the prey will be the drow themselves. Menzoberranzan will fall. I guarantee it."

Triel coldly regarded the prisoner who had been brought before her: a young male drow. He lay on his back on the floor of her audience chamber, wrists bound tightly behind him and ankles likewise tied above his bare feet. His black pants and shirt hung in tatters, the slashes revealing a myriad of lacerations that dribbled blood onto the floor. The hair on one side of his head had been burned down to stubble, and his face was covered in blisters. One eye was fused shut, its eyelid blistered and weeping, but the other glared up at Triel with undiminished defiance.

Triel crinkled her nose at the stench of burned hair and flesh and toyed with a perfectly balanced throwing dagger?the only one still in the fellow's bandoleer when he was captured. She could tell by the tingle it sent through her fingers that it was magic?as had been the blades that had killed four of her elite guard.

"This is an assassin's weapon," she observed, handing it to one of the females who stood on either side of her: two of the House guard who attended her at all times, magical shields and maces at the ready.

A third member of the guard?an officer?stepped forward to conclude her report.

"The intruder was captured on the fifth level, Matron Baenre," she said. "We believe he was trying to reach your private quarters."

Triel stared at the officer, who, despite all that was happening, looked as if she was freshly turned out for inspection. Her adamantine chain mail was a glossy black, her long white hair neatly braided. She stood at rigid attention, a polished mace hanging from her belt and a hand crossbow strapped to the back of each wrist. Five black spiders, embroidered into the shoulder of her silver tunic, proclaimed her rank.

"How did he get inside, Captain. .?" Triel let the sentence trail off, an obvious invitation for a name.

"Captain Maignith," the woman answered, meeting Triel's eyes for precisely the amount of time that was appropriate. "He didn't get in through any of the lower doors. I questioned the guards?thoroughly. All were at their posts, and the wards are still in place. He didn't slip past us. He must have gotten in from above."

That said, Captain Maignith glanced at a second officer?a lieutenant of the lizard riders?who stood several paces farther back, as befitted a male. He wore tight-fitting, padded leather breeches and a piwafwi trimmed in silver. He held his plumed silver helmet in the crook of one arm and seemed to be having trouble looking Triel in the eye.

"Matron Mother, I … My riders saw nothing on the outer wall," he stammered.

Triel noted the shift of words with amusement. A magic earring told her the lieutenant was speaking the truth?as he believed it to be. She could hear none of the echoing quaver that accompanied a lie.

She toyed with the handle of the whip of fangs that hung from her belt, twin to the one carried by her sister Quenthel. The vipers hissed softly in anticipation, sensing her desire. The lieutenant deserved punishment?and would receive it, in due time.

Her hand fell away from the whip.

"Go and fetch your lizard," she said.

The lieutenant hesitated a moment too long, a mix of relief and puzzlement on his face. Then, suddenly remembering his place, he bowed deeply and backed from the room.

The captive smirked, obviously pleased with the concern his intrusion had caused.