to suicide - slow suicide, since its worshipers were typically tortured to death in an effort to root out the names of other blasphemers. The assassin had just signed his own death warrant, which meant that any promises Triel made to spare his life would be ineffective.
No, hewanted to die. And slowly.
Triel stared down at him.
"If you hope to be rewarded by Vhaeraun, think again," she told him. "You failed in your mission. You'll be lucky if your god lifts his mask to spit upon you. And your fellow conspirators are feeble and weak, just look what they sent to do the job, a mereboy? They're not even worth my contempt."
The assassin's good eye blazed.
"Laugh while you can," he spat back at her. "You'll be weeping soon enough, when the Jaezred Chaulssin come to call."
Triel smiled to herself as she pondered the name. It was obvi-ously an organization of some sort - perhaps one that had arisen during the slave rebellion that had been so recently put down. Could they be some ragged refugees from the ruins of the city called Chaulssin?
"I've never heard of this Jaezred Chaulssin," she said disdainfully. "They're obviously as inconsequential as they are ineffective."
The captive gave a croaking laugh and said, "Hardly ineffective. My master brought an army to your doorstep."
Triel seized upon the information.
"Your master is a duergar then ... or a tanarukk? Kaanyr Vhok?"
"Much more than that. Much more than that mercenary Vhok. My master has powers that you could only dream of. It was he who engineered your army's defeat at the battle of the Pillars of Woe."
Triel raised an eyebrow and asked, "Oh, did he?" She could guess who the assassin was referring to but needed confirmation. "Then no doubt he'd like me to know his name - to know which male dared attack Matron Mother Baenre in her own home. Or is he afraid of me, as all good little drow males should be?"
That goad, combined with Triel's magical suggestion, tipped the balance.
"Mymaster is no mere drow, he said. "Nimor is - "
He bit off the rest, aware that he had already revealed too much.
Nimor? Triel growled. The name was unfamiliar. Then she realized who it must be. "You mean Captain Zhayemd of Agrach Dyrr, don't you? The traitor who led the army of duergar to our very doorstep?"
The prisoner nodded defiantly and said, "Your master, soon enough."
Triel thought about that for a moment. Zhayemd was clearly an assumed name - had the assassin's leader also assumed the name of the Sixth House? She wondered how deeply Agrach Dyrr's treachery truly lay. Had Nimor persuaded the soldiers to attack their allies on his own, or had he the backing of the House itself? An important question, since Agrach Dyrr's household was under siege by forces of Menzoberranzan that could better be used to battle the duergar and tanarukks.
Triel decided to bluff.
"I knew your master was not an Agrach Dyrr," she told the as-sassin. "I had never seen him before - and I know all of the senior officers of that House. Matron Mother Yasraena and I are ... allies. As much as any two matron mothers can be."
"Yasraena Dyrr is of no consequence."
Triel stiffened and asked, "What do you mean?"
"A male rules House Agrach Dyrr - the lichdrow. Vhaeraun has re-established the natural order of things, just as he will in all of Menzoberranzan, once this war is won."
Triel heard a slight intake of breath beside her, and remembered her lieutenant. Quick as a striking snake, she cracked her whip in his direction. Gleefully hissing, the five vipers sank their fangs into his dark flesh. The male officer stiffened, then gurgled faintly as his eyes rolled back. He crashed to the floor like a broken stalactite.
His lizard sniffed him once, then immediately began to feed, chewing on the head with loud crunching noises.
Triel glanced at Maignith.
"Not a word of this to anyone," she hissed.
Maignith bowed, then stared meaningfully at each of the guards on either side of Triel and said, "You can count on our silence, Matron Mother."
Triel returned her attention to the captive. She was delighted that he had at last succumbed to her magical suggestion - he was giving her even more information than she'd dared hope for. Wetting her lips like a lizard scenting blood, she probed further.
"Was it the lichdrow who sent you here? Was it his magic that got you inside?"