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mistress。 Danifae had borne her bondage well； but Halisstra had no intention of removing the locket in the presence of the Menzoberranyr…if； in fact； she ever did。
She and Ryld took up positions in a small rotunda a short ways down the tunnel； a dark and open space from which they could keep the approach to their refuge under careful observation without being seen themselves。 Folded in their piwafwis； they were virtually indistinguishable from the dark stone around them。 Despite the capricious chaos and gnawing ambition that burned in every drow heart； any drow of acplishment was capable of patience and iron discipline in the performance of an important task； and so Halisstra and Ryld set themselves to watch and wait in vigilant silence。
Halisstra tried to empty her mind of all but the input of her senses； to better stand her watch； but she found that her head was filled with thoughts that did not care to be dismissed。 It occurred to Halisstra that whatever became of her from this day forward； she would rise or fall based on nothing more than her own strength； cunning； and ruthlessness。 The displeasure of House Melarn meant nothing。 If she desired respect； she would have to make the displeasure of Halisstra Melarn something to be feared in its place。 All because Lolth had decided to test those most faithful to her。 By the caprice of the goddess House Melarn of Ched Nasad； whose leading females for centuries beyond counting had poured out blood and treasure upon the Spider Queen's altars； had been cast down。
Why？ Halisstra wondered。 Why？
The answer was cold and empty； of course。 Lolth's machinations were not for her priestesses to understand； and her tests could be cruel indeed。 Halisstra ground her teeth softly and tried to thrust her weak questions out of her heart。 If Lolth chose to test Halisstra's faith by stripping her of everything she held dear to see if the First Daughter of House Melarn could win it back； the Spider Queen would find her equal to the challenge。
Care to talk about it？ Ryld's fingers flashed discretely in the sophisticated sign language of the dark elves。
Talk about what？
Whatever it is that troubles you。 Something has you tied in a knot； priestess。
It is nothing to concern a male； she replied。
Of course。 It never is。
Their eyes met across the small chamber。 Halisstra was surprised to find Ryld's face twisted in a curious expression of bitter resignation and wry amusement at the same time。 She studied him carefully； trying to ascertain what motive he might have had for striking up a conversation。
He was very tall and strongly built for a male…for any dark elf； really…just as tall as she was herself。 His close…cropped hair was an exotic affectation in drow society； a strangely ascetic austerity for a race that delighted in things of beauty and personal refinement。 Drow were ruthlessly pragmatic in their dealings with one another； but not in their grooming。 Most males in Halisstra's experience preened themselves； affecting silken grace and deadly guile。 Pharaun virtually epitomized the type。 Ryld； she realized； was something very different。
You fight well； she offered…not an apology； not to a male； but still something。 You could have let me die in Ched Nasad； yet you risked yourself to save me。 Why？
We had an agreement。 You led us to safety； and we helped you escape。
Yes； but I had discharged my end of the bargain by that time。 There was no need to honor yours。
There was no need not to。 Ryld offered a slight smile； and shifted to a soft whisper。 〃Besides； it seems that it was in my own interests to save you； as not an hour ago you saved my life in turn。 We are indebted to each other。〃
Halisstra laughed at that； so quietly that no one more than ten feet away would have noticed。
We are not a race given to honoring our debts； she signed。
That has been made clear to me more than once； the weapons master replied。 A brief flicker of pain crossed his face； and Halisstra wondered exactly whom the Master of Melee…Magthere had trusted； and why he'd done something so foolish。 Before she could ask； he continued； So tell me of the bae'qeshel。 I do not know of them。
〃By tradition；〃 she whispered； 〃our wizards； swordsmen； and clerics are trained in academies。 This is true in most drow cities。 The reason you do not know of the bae'qeshel is that the bardic training is not a public matter。 We pass our secrets； one mistress to one student at a time。〃
I thought the noble Houses had little use for mon minstrels。
〃The bae'qeshel are not mon minstrels； weapons master；〃 Halisstra said in a low voice。 〃We are a proud and ancient sect； the bae'qeshel telphraezzar； the Whisperers of the Dark Queen。 I am a priestess of Lolth； as are the other females of my House； but I was chosen to spend many long years as a girl studying the bae'qeshel lore。 I revere the goddess not only with my service as her priestess； but with the gift of raising the ancient songs of our race； which are pleasing to her ears。 House Melarn has always been proud to raise one bae'qeshel into the sisterhood of Lolth's service in each generation。〃
〃If your songs are sacred to Lolth； why do they work while other spells fail？〃 Ryld asked。
〃Because the songs possess a power in and of themselves； like a wizard's spells。 We do not channel the divine power of the Queen of Spiders to wield our songs。 Regrettably； my skill with such things is nothing pared to the divine might I could wield in Lolth's name； if she would restore her favor to me。〃
〃An interesting talent； nonetheless；〃 he murmured。 Ryld glanced back down the passageway toward the chamber where the others waited。 〃It seems quiet enough。 We may have some time to wait yet。 If I know Pharaun； he will need hours to regain his strength。 Tell me； do you play sava？〃
Nimor clung to the shadows of a gigantic stalactite； one of many such stone fangs reaching down from the ceiling of Menzoberranzan's vast cavern。 Old passages and precarious paths crisscrossed the city's roof； and many of the stalactites were in fact carved into darkly beautiful castles and aeries all the more spectacular for their bold arrogance。 Only drow would make homes out of fragile stone spears a thousand feet above the cavern floor。 Highborn dark elves frequently possessed innate magic or enchanted trinkets that freed them of concern over heights； and gave little thought to dizzying overlooks that would terrify bats。 Their slaves and servants were not so fortunate； and must have found life in a ceiling spire something peculiarly nerve…racking。
The more important ceiling spires were of course magically reinforced against the inevitable fall； and would not fail unless magic itself gave out…but more than one proud old palace stood dusty and abandoned at the top of the city； the House that claimed it too weak in the Art to maintain the spells that made the place tenable。 It was in just such an empty place that Nimor crouched； leaning out over a dark abyss to study his target below。
House Faen Tlabbar； Third House of Menzoberranzan； lay below him and a short distanc