Tangled webs - Elaine Cunningham [156]
Dagmar hesitated, her blue eyes frantic. Liriel thought she knew why.
"Your sister is dead," she said bluntly.
it was a lie, and a cruel one at that, but Liriel was desperate to free Dagmar from her loyalty to her captured twin. The stunned expression on the Northwoman's face assured Liriel she had hit the mark. It did not, however, prepare the drow for what happened next.
Dagmar threw back her head and let out a peal of wild laughter. The veil of pretense dropped from her beautiful face, and Liriel stared up into blue eyes burning with fierce Joy.
"So at last i am to come into my own!" the young woman exulted. "Now that Ygraine is dead, i will be the one to bring the hamfarrigen magic back to Ruathym!"
As the initial shock of this announcement faded, the drow nodded slowly. There was a certain macabre logic in Dagmar's words, for she was obviously astute enough to realize that Y graine would never have returned to Ruathym alive. The traitorous Northwoman had been held hostage by her sister's captors-not by the threat of her sister's death, but by Ygraine's continued survival! To a drow of Menzoberranzan, this made perfect sense. There were some things, however, that Liriel did not yet understand.
"Ygraine would have died sooner or later," the drow stated coldly. "You could not have waited for your inheritance?"
Dagmar shrugged. "if i knew for certain that the dutiful fool would soon serve mead in the halls of Tempus, i would have been content to wait upon the pleasure ofher captors. But i was shown a tapestry, a magical thing that can hold the spirits of the slain for all time. If i did not do as they bade me, Ygraine's spirit would have been trapped among the threads. Perhaps that would have been sufficient to pass her legacy on to me, perhaps not. It was not a chance i was willing to take."
"Many Ruathen have died," Liriel spat out. "is your sister's death worth that much to you? What do you stand to gain from this, besides a passel of shapechanging brats?" Dagmar turned a strange smile upon the drow. "That is how my people think; i would have expected differently from you. To the people of Ruathym, a woman's worth is measured by the rank of her husband and the sons she bears him. I would be known for myself!"
Liriel stared at the Northwoman, rendered momentarilY speechless by the naked ambition written on Dagmar's face-an ambition that fully matched her own. The drow had the uncanny sensation that she was gazing into a pale mirror.
"What power were you promised?" she asked softly. "After the conquest of Ruathym, someone must rule," the young woman said bluntly. "Most of the warriors will be slain, the women humiliated, the pride of all the people brought low. The Ruathen will accept someone who provides a measure of hope, who can restore to them their sense of honor. Who better than she who revived the ancient hamfariggen magic? And i will do it, not a son that some warrior begot upon my body!"
"if that is so, what did you want with Fyodor?" Liriel demanded, for Dagmar's attempted seduction of her friend still rankled deeply with her.
Again, the strange, cold smile. "Had he lain with me, he would have been dead that very night, and the conquest of Ruathym would have been so much the easier."
Liriel nodded. It all made perfect sense. Indeed, the mixture of twisted intrigue and icy calculation was all too familiar to her. Familiar, too, was the desire for power, a desire so strong that any method of achieving the longedfor goal was deemed acceptable. There was an odd lrinship between Dagmar and herself that Liriel could not ignore. "Why do you tell me this?" she demanded. Even to her own ears, her words rang with desperate denial.
Dagmar lau~ghed softly, knowingly. "is there anyone alive who does not wish to be understood? i tell you because on all this island you alone can understand the things i desire, and the things i have done to get them." Th~e drow received this explanation in silence. As much as she wished to refute the damning words, she found