Tangled webs - Elaine Cunningham [15]
Her talents, too, were different from those of most drow. Shakti was a canny manager, and at no time in the city's history were such skills needed as badly as now. In the aftermath of war, the chaos that was Menzoberranzan teetered on the edge of catastrophe. Food supplies had dwindled; trade had fallen off. Most noble families kept mushroom groves within the walls of their compoundssafe from the threat of poisoning by a rival clan-but the common folk went hungry more often than not. Shakti had addressed that problem, working hard to restore the rothe herd and revive the neglected fields. She also made sure it was known whose doing this was. The common folk ofMenzoberranzan didn't care which eight backsides warmed the thrones of the Ruling Council. They did care that their young ones were fed, that there was a market for their crafts. Slowly, steadily, Shakti was building a power base of a different kind, one that dealt in the everyday needs of most of the city's drow.
Yet she was not blind to the fact that power currently resided in the hands of the matriarchy, and that nearly every priestess in Menzoberranzan was consumed with the ambition to rise to the head of her clan and to improve the rank and station of her house. It was no accident that Shakti's older sister, the heir to House Hunzrin, had fallen ill with a rare wasting disease.
Shakti intended to play the game, but she would not lose sight of her larger goals, her broader vistas.
The young priestess entered her private room, taking care to lock the door and ward it against prying eyes. When her haven was secure she sighed with relief, then raised her hands to massage her aching temples. Shakti often had headaches-the result of straining her eyes to make sense of the blur that was her world. Nearsighted from birth, she had gone to great lengths to keep her affliction secret. The constant struggle to keep from squinting gave her a pop-eyed, frantic appearance. Clerical spells might have improved her vision, but no drow dared admit to physical defect.
Yet when her blurred gaze fell upon her most prized possessions-the snake-headed whip that proclaimed her rank as high priestess ofLloth and a scrying bowl that had been the gift ofVhaeraun, the drow god ofthievery-a bold thought occurred to her. If the gods were willing to grant such gifts as she already possessed, why couldn't she petition them directly for healing? What better symbol could there be for her farsighted ambition?
For it was Shakti's goal to restore the drow to their original vision of glory. According to the Directives of Lloth, the drow must first dominate the Underdark and from there expand to eradicate the lesser races of elves. The drow god Vhaeraun encouraged the dark elves to establish a presence on the surface immediately. As a dual priestess of Lloth and Vhaeraun, Shakti saw life through a broader perspective than most of the city's drow imagined possible. Why shouldn't her eyesight keep pace with her vision? Action followed quickly upon thought. Shakti fell prostrate to the floor, earnestly petitioning the drow goddess and god.
in quick response came a white-hot blaze of pain as healing magic flowed into the priestess-far too much ofit. Even in this, the rival deities competed.
Shakti's body contorted, her head reared up as the waves of power coursed through her. Shrieking in agony, the priestess clutched at the nearest object-the gilt base of her mirror. Her reflected eyes stared back at her, wide and frantic and fiery red.
in some corner of Shakti's mind that the pain could not reach, a bubble of childlike wonder began to form. Reflected in the mirror was a room outlined in detail such as the young drow had never seen, had never imagined possible. The titles on the books lining her shelves, the intricate detail on the carved gargoyles that decorated the mantel, the sheen of dust on