Tangled webs - Elaine Cunningham [154]
As the drow walked through the cramped and crowded quarters, she noted that all the slaves-sea elves, humans, even some of the merrow that apparently guarded themwere held in tight control. Some sat like animated corpses, with slack faces and vacant eyes, moving only upon the command of one of their sea-ogre guardians. Others, whose spirits had apparently been broken, were shackled only by the deep hopelessness that emptied their eyes and bowed their shoulders. There were, however, a few who still resisted the powers that ruled Ascarle.
Liriel watched as a pair of merrow dragged a struggling sea-elf female down a hall. She followed them into a long corridor lined with cages. Into one of these the merrow tossed the elf, informing her that she would be fetched again when her skills were needed. The drow crept down the hall, taking stock of these hearty prisoners. These were the strongest, those who might be persuaded to turn against their captors when the time came. Suddenly Liriel stopped before one cell, stunned and enlightened.
The young woman pacing the tiny cell was the mirror image of Dagmar: the same strong, beautiful face, the distinctive pale gold hair. Liriel understood at last why the Ruathen woman had turned traitor.
Twin births were not common among the drow, but they did occur from time to time. The link between elven twins was incredibly strong, often enabling one sibling to sense the other's thoughts and to feel the other's pain. And the rivalry between drow twins was ruthless enough to inspire the most ambitious priestess in Menzoberranzan. Rarely did both siblings live to adulthood. Those who did usually pitted themselves against each other in an endless, equally matched struggle. These miniature wars could become so destructive that many drow decided to avoid the bother by destroying such children at birth. As she gazed at Dagmar's twin, however, Liriel wondered how strong that bond might be in cultures such as Ruathym, where all children were cherished, where clan and kindred were valued above all other things.
Abruptly the drow turned and strode back to the palace. She had not yet encountered the leader of this place. This she must do, before she could know the true strength of Ascarle.
Liriel made her way back to the council chamber. Beyond it was a suite of rooms. Judging by their opulence, she guessed they belonged to the shadowy "mistress" of whom the malenti had spoken.
One of these chambers was filled with dozens ofscrying devices: small pools, scrying bowls, crystal globes, enspelled gems. The very air crackled with magic, and the drow hurried through to the room beyond. Here she stopped, more stunned by the sight before her than she had been by the discovery of Dagmar's captured twin. Stretched out on a large loom was a nearly finished tapestry depicting a coastal village-as one of the creatures of the Abyss might leave it after a few days' dalliance. Dead human warriors lay in moldering piles; sea elves were staked out beneath a blazing sun. Familiar sea ~ elves. Liriel knew those faces, even if she had seen them only in death.
The drow grasped her holy symbol and whispered the words to the spell that had once sought the spirits of the sea elves. There was no misty gray anteroom this time, for Liriel had not far to go. She touched her fingers to the woven image of the elf, felt the mingled despair and hope as the captured spirit responded to her presence.
Liriel snatched her hand away and stared with dismay at the tapestry. Such a thing took powerful magic; this was the work of a mighty and malevolent being.
Her own words rang in her ears-her impetuous promise to free the captured spirits. If she tried to do so, if she tampered with the tapestry in any way, she would surely alert the