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gent on Quenthel's doing precisely what the plotters wanted exactly when and where they wanted it done—but the effort served to cement their mitment to the conspiracy and to limn at least the bare bones of a strategy。
Finally it was done。 The priestesses started to slip out the way they'd e； one and two at a time。 The more restless stood in a clump around the exit； awaiting their turns。 T'risstree was among them。
Drisinil crossed the floor in as relaxed and casual a manner as she could affect。 She didn't want someone to realize her intent； and； surprised； react in some audible way。
No one did。 All dark elves were actors in that they were liars； and perhaps she was a better dissembler than most。 She sauntered within arm's reach of T'risstree； took hold of the dirk concealed inside her long； fringed shawl； and drove the blade into the high priestess's spine。 This time； for whatever reason； the stumps of her severed pinkies didn't hurt a bit。 T'risstree's back arched in a spasm of agony； and； to Drisinil's surprise； her teacher tried to flounder around to face her。 Her arm shaking； T'risstree lifted the falchion。
Drisinil turned along with the high priestess； keeping behind her。 She grabbed hold of T'risstree's hair； jerked her head back； and sliced open her throat。 The instructor collapsed。 The sword slipped from her fingers and clanked on the floor。
The onlookers gawked。
〃T'risstree T'h meant to betray us；〃 Drisinil said。 〃I saw it in her eyes when I took her hands。 We can leave the carcass here for the time being。 With luck； no one will discover it until after Quenthel's death。〃
Either the other conspirators believed her explanation； or； more likely； didn't care that she'd murdered the teacher。 A few congratulated her on her finesse； and； utterly indifferent to the corpse sprawled in their midst； resumed their departures。
Drisinil picked up and examined the fallen falchion。 Once Quenthel was slain； it ought to look nice on her wall。
*
Faeryl prowled the rounded； treacherous surfaces at the apex of the ambassadorial residence。 She was trying to monitor all four sides of her home； which entailed clambering about with a certain celerity。 Yet she was also trying to hide from anyone who might be peering from the window of a neighboring mansion or up from one of the quiet residential boulevards of prosperous West Wall； and the faster she moved； the more problematic stealth became。 She'd sneaked up there two hours ago； when everyone else thought she was bundling or burning documents； and she still wasn't sure she'd struck the proper balance between the two necessities。
She wished she could have ordered a retainer or two up there to help her keep her vigil； but it would have been illadvised； considering that any of her minions might be the object of her hunt。
She also wished she had more cover。 Except for a few token walkways and crenellations so small as to be essentially ornamental； the apex of the stalagmite keep was bare of fortifications or even level places to stand。 If Faeryl looked closely； she could see subtle signs that at one time； when the keep had served another purpose； such defenses had existed in abundance； but subsequently； a wizard had melted the ramparts back into the rest of the calcite。 It made sense。 The Menzoberranyr would see no reason to gift an outsider with any notable capacity to resist a siege。
Faeryl perched on the northeast side of the roof。 Outlined in blue； green； or violent phosphorescence； the homes of her wealthier neighbors glowed all around her。 Had she looked from a distance； she would have observed her own residence shining in the same way。 Fortunately； the luminescence only defined the silhouette of the tower and picked out several spiders sculpted in basrelief。 As long as she stayed away from the images； kept silent； and enjoyed a measure of luck； it shouldn't reveal her presence。
A soft； indefinable sound rose from the northwest。 Grateful that she at least still had the brooch that would make her weightless； she scuttled quickly along the sloping pitch of the roof； fearless in the knowledge that even if she lost her footing； she needn't fall。
In a few seconds； she reached the northwest aspect。 She peered over the drop and discovered the source of the sound in the plaza below。
Bare to the waist； rapiers in one hand and parrying daggers in the other； two males circled one another。 They stood straight and stepped lightly in the manner of welltrained fencers。 Their discarded piwafwi’s； mail； and shirts lay where they'd tossed them on the ground along with a pair of empty wineskins。 A third male looked on from beneath an overhanging balcony some distance away； where the batants quite possibly hadn't noticed him。
Faeryl sighed。 This little tableau was mildly intriguing； but it clearly had nothing to do with her own situation。
After her frustrating interview with Matron Mother Baenre； she'd realized she had an opponent。 Someone who'd traduced her； possibly to keep her from departing Menzoberranzan； though she couldn't imagine why。 From that inference； it was a small step to the suspicion that the enemy had an agent inside her household。 It was what any intelligent foe would try to arrange； and it arguably explained how Faeryl's intention to go home had been discerned and countered with a word in Triel's ear。
Seething with the need to outwit those who had made a fool of her； Faeryl devised a ruse to unmask the spy。 She surprised her retainers with the order to pack。 They were slipping out of Menzoberranzan that very night。 She thought her loyal vassals would obey； but the traitor would try to sneak away to report the household's imminent flight。 Crouched on the roof； Faeryl would spot her when she did。
That was the plan； anyway。 The ambassador could think of several reasons why it might fail。 The residence had means of egress on all four sides； but she couldn't survey all four at once； not unless she floated well above the roof； and that option presented problems of its own。 Most dark elf boots possessed a virtue of silence； and their mantles； one of obscuration。 The traitor might even have some more potent means of escaping notice； such as a talisman of invisibility。 Were she any higher above the ground； Faeryl might have no hope at all of detecting the spy's surreptitious exit。
Of course； the traitor might also have a means of municating with her confederates via clairaudience； or a charm of instantaneous transit； in which case the envoy's scheme was doomed no matter what。 She'd cling to the roof until someone in authority； a pany of Baenre guards； perhaps； showed up to take her and her entourage into custody； but she'd had to try something。
She crawled on。 Below and behind her； one of the duelists groaned as his foe's blade plunged through his torso。 Magic flickered and sizzled； and the victor dropped as well。 The wizard who'd been watching from a distance strolled forward to inspect the steaming corpses。
Faeryl wondered if the three had been siblings； and the wizard was the clever one。 She'd had a brother like that once； until an even trickier male turned him to dust and absconded with his wands and grimoires。 A minor setback for her House； but interesting to watch。
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