Resurrection

To Pharaun's surprise, Quenthel said, "She is correct. The next time you divert our mission without my command, you will be punished. Lolth awaits her Yor'thae. We will not waste time with your trivial investigations."

As if to emphasize her point, the serpents extended to twice their ordinary length and flicked their tongues against Pharaun's flesh.

The Master of Sorcere swallowed his anger, stifled his pride, and set out to control the damage.

He offered Quenthel a bow and said, "Of course, Mistress. Forgive my presumption." To

Danifae, he said, "And I was not aware that you now spoke for the Mistress."

Quenthel's jaw clenched at that. She glared first at Pharaun, then at Danifae.

"No one speaks for me," Quenthel said, and Pharaun lowered his gaze.

Danifae said, "I seek only the Spider Queen's will, Mistress of Arach-Tinilith."

"As do I," Quenthel said, and turned away to study the route ahead.

When she did, Pharaun met Danifae's eyes. She offered him a small smile-no doubt she thought she had driven some wedge between Quenthel and Pharaun by pointing out that the mage had acted without the high priestess's permission. Her gaze promised Pharaun an ugly death should the wedge result in a wide enough gap.

Pharaun smiled back at her. He felt reasonably comfortable that he had mitigated the damage by suggesting that Danifae had acted presumptuously by speaking for Quenthel. And if blades came to blood, it would be Danifae who would suffer the ugly death.

The thought gave him a momentary start. Kill a priestess of Lolth? True, Danifae was

Houseless but she was still a priestess. Such a thing would not even have occurred to Pharaun before Lolth's Silence. He realized that while Lolth might have returned, her Silence had changed something fundamental about the relationship between male and female drow-for at least some males, priestesses would no longer seem so untouchable. Their weakness during the Silence,

albeit temporary, had removed some of the social controls that underlaid their rule. He wondered how that would play out in future years.

The creature held in his magical fist stirred and groaned. Pharaun's spell had left it only temporarily stunned.

"As is her wont," Pharaun said to Quenthel. "Mistress Danifae has misconstrued the situation.

I have not killed one of Lolth's creatures. I have merely brought it to you, Mistress, to do with as you wish. Perhaps to question it?"

Quenthel belted her whip and turned. Pharaun saw approval in her eyes. The serpents of the whip went slack. She eyed the creature closely for the first time then stepped forward, took its fanged jaw in her hand, and squeezed.

"Speak," she said to it. "What are you?"

"Be wary, Mistress," Pharaun warned. "It has the ability to implant a suggestion. That is how it lures souls to its web, offering them comfort."

Quenthel squeezed, and the creature wailed. Danifae smirked at its pain. Jeggred eyed it as if trying to determine how it might taste.

"If you attempt it," she said. "I will squeeze your head until it bursts."

"Not do," the creature whimpered in a high pitched voice. It spoke in an archaic form of Low

Drow. "Not do. Mistook him for a soul. But not a soul. Living."

Quenthel shook its head and asked again, "What are you?"

The creature attempted to shake its head but Quenthel's strength held it immobile. Spittle and hisses rained from between its lips.

"The cursed of the Spider," the creature said at last, its voice difficult to understand.

"The cursed of Lolth?" Quenthel asked, eyebrows raised. "You do not serve the Spider

Queen?"

Phlegm and drool leaked down the creature's face. Its forehead furrowed.

"The Spider hates me, but I feed on her souls. Eat many."

Quenthel relaxed her grip on the creature and looked to Danifae, then to Pharaun.

"This useless creature has nothing to tell us," she said. "Kill it, Master Mizzrym."

Pharaun did not hesitate. He caused his magical hand to squeeze, and squeeze. The creature screamed, bones cracked, and drool and blood exploded from its mouth.

"The Teeming will take you," it wailed, then it burst into a shower of gore.

"The Teeming?" Pharaun asked while he dispelled his magical hand and let the bloody pile fall to the ground.

Neither priestess responded to his question or seemed interested in the creature's threat, so he said, "It appears that the Spider Queen is not without a sense of irony. She rewards her followers for a lifetime of service by allowing them to be captured on the way to her and made food for whatever spun those webs."

Quenthel scoffed, eyeing him with contempt. The serpents of her whip lazily flicked their tongues at him.

"Master Mizzrym," Quenthel said. "You understand as little as most males. Faithful worship in life is not a guarantee of safety in death. This whole plane is a test for Lolth's dead. Surely even you can see that?"

Danifae looked at Quenthel and said, "Then does that not make this creature a servant of

Lolth after all, Mistress Quenthel?"

Silence fell. Quenthel seemed dumbfounded by the question.