lesser spiders dangled from the central figure’s finger-webs like newly hatched spiderlings twisting in the wind.
The imagery was like nothing T’lar had ever seen before. It felt old, archaic. Not quite right. Yet strangely compelling. And Lolth had woven a path for her to this place. Why?
Using Nafay’s dagger, she pricked each of her fingers. She pressed her fingertips against the abdomen of the large spider, leaving small dots of blood. “Hear me, Dark Mother. Show me your will.”
She heard a muffled voice behind her: the wild elf, trying to say something against his gag. She turned and saw a fist-sized spider descending from the ceiling on a thread of silk. The spider was night black, with a red hourglass on its abdomen. As it descended, purple faerie fire blossomed in a flickering halo around its body. The wild elf threw himself to the side, rolling away from it.
Lolth had made herself known.
T’lar strode to the wild elf and caught him by the hair, dragging him to the bowl-shaped depression. The spider halted in its descent, twisting around on its thread, just over T’lar’s head. Watching. T’lar held up Nafay’s dagger and kissed the blade. Then she yanked the wild elf’s head back, bending his body in an arc that exposed his throat. He screameda wild wail that forced itself past the gag. He fought T’lar with all his strength, trying to hurl himself backward, to tear free and escape, but her grip was relentless.
She touched her dagger to his throat. She pricked it, making a puncture that barely broke the skin.
“Accept this sacrifice, Dark Mother,” she intoned.
She jabbed again. A little deeper, this time. His muffled wail grew shriller. He fought with the frenzy of a trapped animal, but T’lar’s grip remained as strong as adamantine. The wild elf twisted around and kicked her legs. She neatly sidestepped the thrashing limbs.
“Taste his fear.”
Another thrust, a little deeper.
“Feast upon him.”
Blood trickled down his throat. She stabbed a fourth time.
“Feast upon his blood.”
Another thrust.
“Consume him.”
She stabbed again.
“Rend his soul.”
She thrust again. Deep enough, this time, to pierce the windpipe. His breathing grew rapid with panic. Blood bubbled in a froth from the wound.
“Take him!”
On her eighth and final thrust, the blade plunged to the hilt. She yanked it free, releasing a hot spray of blood. She jerked his head to the side, letting blood splash the mural. Then she forced the weakly squirming sacrifice down into the depression in the floor. The wild elf died then, and blood stopped pulsing from the wound. T’lar lifted him by the ankles and waited as he bled out. The bowl-shaped depression filled with blood. She cast the corpse aside and kissed the blood-slick dagger a second time, tasting his blood. Then she watched as the purple-limned spider resumed its descent.
It plunged into the bowl of blood. Faerie fire rippled upon the surface of the bright red pool, turning it the color of an old bruise. Then the blood drained away. The depression in the floor was as it had been before the sacrifice: empty and waiting.
T’lar heard the sound of stone grating on stone, coming from the direction of the mural. She whirled, dagger still in hand. Lolth’s abdomen was sinking into the wall. Abruptly it fell away, crashing to the floor of whatever chamber lay beyond this one and sending up a cloud of stale dust. For several moments, there was silence. Then T’lar heard a scrabŹbling sound. She braced herself, preparing for whatever the goddess was about to hurl at her. Lolth was fond of testing her supplicantsand failure usually meant death.
A voice, as dry as ancient leather, creaked out of the openŹing a female voice, pitched too low for T’lar to make out most of the words. One came through clearly, however: the name of the goddess. Lolth.
“Spider Queen!” T’lar cried exultantly. “I am your willing servant.”
Something moved in the space beyond the mural, something large and dark, forcing itself into the hole T’lar’s sacrifice had opened. It squeezed through headfirst, then halted, its shoulders too broad to pass. A bestial face, more demon than drow, stared out at T’lar and snarled. Blood trickled out of the opening and puddled at the base of the wall. The openŹing suddenly widened, then contracted, forcing the demonic creature through. It landed on the ground, gasping.
The demon-drow was twice as large as T’lar was tall, and female, with eight spider legs protruding from her chest. Her hair was a matted tangle that looked like