Windwalker - Elaine Cunningham [79]
Shakti inclined her head respectfully. "I suspected you might say that, and have brought something that will enable you to begin this task at once. I took it from one of Liriel's books."
She passed Triel the folded parchment, a page torn from a human lore book. On it was a finely detailed drawing of small dagger in a rune-carved sheath. The matron gave a curt nod of approval.
"There is more," Shakti cautioned. "Gromph believes that Liriel is dead. I told him this to ensure that he seeks the artifact but not the Zedriniset."
Zedriniset: Chosen of Lolth.
Her choice of words was deliberate, and effective. A murderous gleam flashed in Triel's eyes, betraying the ultimate reward awaiting her too-favored niece. Shakti tucked this realization away as' if it was her greatest treasure.
"Devious, but shortsighted," observed Triel. "What will you do if the Lady of Chaos decides that Liriel must return to us?"
"If this is the will of Lolth, I will bring the princess back myself," Shakti said. She nodded toward Quenthel. "Considering past honors given to House Baenre, such a return would not be beyond belief. Until then, it is better that the archmage has no reason to seek out his daughter."
"You are loyal," Triel observed. The matron's tone held both irony and curiosity.
"Why wouldn't I be? House Hunzrin has long been allied with the First House. I have nothing to gain through your ill fortune but much to gain from your favor."
"Blunt as a dwarven axe," Quenthel murmured.
"For the moment, I am glad of it," Triel said. "Speak plainly once again, and tell us why Gromph cannot have this Windwalker amulet."
Shakti had contemplated this question at length, but the answer only now came to her.
It all fit: her unfading piwafwi, the survival of the soul-bubble spell on the surface world despite the coming of day, Quenthel's words of triumph upon her transformation from yochlol to drow.
"Liriel used this Windwalker amulet to take drow magic to the surface," she said slowly, "but she did not realize how powerful this human trinket was or that the consequences of her casting might be far more widespread than she dreamed possible."
Triel inclined her head. "That is our belief."
For several moments the priestesses held silence, each absorbed in her own thoughts.
Shakti's head whirled with the enormity of this revelation. The shift to strategic thinking was profound, the implications were staggering. She thought back to old Matron Baenre's attack on Mithril Hall and in particular the disastrous battle in a place the humans called Keeper's Dale. The drow had not been defeated by the combined forces of dwarves, human barbarians, and wizards, but by the coming of daylight. If such a battle were to be fought today, they could win it! Once the other drow knew…
That, of course, was why the two Baenre females had summoned her. Once the other drow knew, what was to keep them underground? Why would the males of Menzoberranzan submit to matron rule if they had other, more attractive options?
"Suddenly you have become very important to us," Triel said softly. "As traitor-priestess, you can walk in places none of us can go. You can ensure that no one knows of these developments. No one. You will be the ears that listen, and the sword that silences."
Shakti inclined her head in acceptance-she had no other choice-but she couldn't resist giving voice to her reservations. "Many eyes have seen me come to House Baenre. Other priestesses will wonder why."
"Of course they will, and we will give an explanation that all will understand. The wars have devastated our supplies of slaves and workers, disrupted our trade, slowed production of needed goods. When nobles and common alike are garbed in new woolen clothes and feasting upon roth