side, inhaling the man's scent. The assas-sin, still feeling the effects of Triel's wand, whimpered and cringed away from it.
Triel drummed her fingers on the cold metal of the throne.
"So," she said, making her observations aloud. "The assassin couldn't have climbed the outside of the stalagmite. If he had, the lizards would have picked up his spoor."
The lieutenant closed his eyes in relief.
"Which begs the question," Triel continued. "Howdid he get in?"
Beside the lieutenant, the lizard's tongue continued to flicker in and out, licking at the blood smeared across the floor. Its round, black eyes stared, unblinking, at the captive.
Triel smiled.
"Your mount appears hungry, Lieutenant," she observed. "Why don't you slip the muzzle and let it feed - on a non-essential part, of course."
Grinning, the lieutenant did as he was ordered.
The lizard twitched its tail in anticipation, its luminescent skin darkening momentarily to a. deeper blue, but it waited tor its master's hand signal before it sprang forward. Teeth cracked through bone with a loud crunch, severing the assassin's boundlegs at the ankles. The assassin screamed once as his feet disappeared down the lizard's throat, then he fainted.
Grabbing the lizard's reins, the lieutenant pulled it back.
Triel looked dispassionately at the blood that was pumping onto the floor.
"Staunch those wounds," she ordered.
Obediently, Maignith stepped forward and tapped each of the as-sassin's severed ankles with the head of her mace. The magic possessed by the weapon caused the head to flare brightly, cauterizing the wounds. When they stopped sizzling, Maignith grabbed what remained of the assassins hair and bent his head back. She slapped him awake.
The assassin's one functional eyelid fluttered, then opened. His burned face, once a throbbing red, had gone gray.
"Do you want to live?" Triel asked.
The assassin seemed to have recovered, at last, from the effects of the wand.
"You're going to kill me, no matter what," he croaked.
"Not necessarily," Triel answered, "You obviously have some tal-ent, to get as close to my quarters as you did. Perhaps I'll recruit you for my House."
"With no feet?"
"We have regenerative magic," Triel answered.
"Not any more," the assassin said, wincing as he tried to smile. "Lolth is dead."
Triel shot to her feet, yanking out her whip, and shrieked, "Blasphemer!"
For a heartbeat or two, the vipers in the whip lashed, hissing their fury. How dare this male speak to her like that? She, who had been first in Lolth's favor and who was Matron Mother of House Baenre. A distant corner of her mind recognized that fear was driving her fury. The lack of a report from Quenthel was fill-ing her with worry, increasing as each cycle passed. But if Lolth awoke from her silence and learned that Triel had not punished the male for his insolence. . . .
Then Triel realized she was being goaded. The assassin was try-ing to draw her closer to him. She couldn't see what attack he could possibly mount, wounded and bound with magical rope as he was, but she hadn't survived so many centuries by underestimating her foes. She stroked each or the vipers in turn to soothe them - and herself - then she tucked the whip away.
Lolth's grace might be out of Triel's reach - for the moment - but Triel had other magical abilities at her disposal. She used one of them, the power of her voice. Dropping into a husky, seductive tone that vibrated with magical energy, she began planting a suggestion in the captives mind.
"You might as well tell me who sent you," she told him. "If it was a matron mother of another House, she's safe enough. I'm not about to waste my troops in striking back at her with this siege on. If it was one of my sisters, you have as much to gain by serving me as you do by serving her. So tell me ... who hired you?"
"I am no mere hireling," the man gritted.
Ah, pride. Triel could work with that.
"Of course not. You're proud of who - and what - you are.Why don't you share this information with me? Surely telling me about yourself won't betray anything about the matron who sent you."
"I serve nofemale. "the assassin spat. "Nor will any male, soon enough. The Masked Lord will see to that."
A ripple of tension passed through the room as the officers and guards reacted to the name. With an effort, Triel kept her temper. Instead she focused on the information he'd just let slip.
Vhaeraun's worship was strictly forbidden in Menzoberranzan. Admitting to it was tantamount