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Jezz merely snorted. Without further comment he turned on his heel and strode out into the night. Two of the males from House Jaelre immediately followed. The remaining male from that House who had not yet declared himself glanced sidelong at the Auzkovyn, as if waiting to see what they would do.

One of the Auzkovyn glanced at his fellows, shook his head, then also left.

Malvag waited, holding his breath, as the four males who had not yet declared themselves—one from House Jaelre and three from House Auzkovyn—shifted slightly on their feet, hesitating. One of the Auzkovyn males muttered something under his breath at his companions then departed. The hatchet-nosed Auzkovyn also turned to leave, then hesitated, glancing back over his shoulder. Even from where he stood, Malvag could smell the reek of nervous sweat clinging to the male. A moment more of hesitation then that Auzkovyn abruptly left.

That left only two in addition to Malvag and the male from House Auzkovyn who had been so quick to declare himself. If both of them stayed, that would give Malvag only the slightest of margins. The spell Malvag hoped to use required at least two other clerics, besides himself, to cast.

“May the Masked Lord forgive them for their lack of faith,” he whispered under his breath—but loud enough for the remaining two to hear. He stared out through the crack in the tree trunk, sadly shaking his head. “They’ve given up a chance to stand at Vhaeraun’s side. They’ll never know what true power is.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the remaining two square their shoulders and turn slightly toward him. They had made their decision. They would stay.

He turned to the three clerics who remained and spread his arms. He could see, by the wary glint in their eyes, that they didn’t quite trust him. Yet. But they would.

They would have to trust him by the night of the winter solstice, if his plan was to succeed.

He smiled behind his mask. “Now then,” he said, readying his teleportation spell. “Let me show you that scroll.”

Halisstra waited, high in the treetop. The wind plucked at her hair, tangling its sticky white strands. A fallen leaf fluttered by and became stuck in the tangle. She ignored it, her attention wholly focused on the hollow tree below. Inside it was her prey.

Three male drow emerged from it. The one in the lead was limping. His aura betrayed the fact that he had powerful arcane magic, but he did not wear a mask. He was not one of those Lolth wanted dead.

She watched them go.

Two more males emerged from the hollow tree, one after another. Each was a cleric, but neither was very powerful, so their deaths would be of little consequence. Halisstra let them go, too, listening as their footsteps faded into the darkened forest.

A few moments passed, then another male emerged, alone, and with a strong aura of divine magic about him. He paused to lean against a tree, as if feeling ill, but after a moment straightened again, a determined look on his sweat-sheeted face.

Halisstra hissed. Curved fangs emerged from the bulges in her cheeks, one under each eye. The fangs scissored together in anticipation, their hollow tips dripping venom. That one.

Halisstra followed him, moving through the treetops above, ignoring the pain that creaked through her body with each pulse of her blood. Her bare hands and feet clung to the branches like the sticky feet of a spider, so there was no need to grip. Just scuttle and spring. Once the male halted and glanced up, his wrist-crossbow raised. Halisstra froze in place, not because she feared his feeble weapon, but to draw out his growing unease.

After a moment, the male lowered his weapon. He made a pass with his hand, evoking magic, then formed forefinger and thumb into a circle. Lifting his mask, he spoke into the circle he’d formed. Halisstra’s keen ears picked up every word.

“Lady, I report as commanded,” he said in a tense voice. “Your priestesses are in danger. A Nightshadow named Malvag plans to open a—”

As he spoke, Halisstra flicked her fingers, releasing