Sceptered One proved unfaithful, he could blame whomever had been sent to the warlord.
"We should gather our strength and be ready to strike when our allies play their part in reducing Menzoberranzan's defenses," he said.
"We do not have any great force at arms, Anointed Blade," Mauzzkyl said. "I will not commit the Jaezred Chaulssin to a pitched battle."
"I understand, Revered Grandfather." If they gathered all their strength in one place, the secret House would hardly amount to the num-bers of a single minor House of Menzoberranzan - though the Jaezred Chaulssin could have an impact out of all proportion to their numbers. "I need one of my brothers to go to Kaanyr Vhok's Scoured Legion and steer the warlord in the right direction. My responsibilities in Menzoberran-zan's army and my efforts to guide Horgar Steelshadow and the renegade Agrach Dyrr do not permit me sufficient time to look after Kaanyr Vhok as well as I would like."
Mauzzkyl nodded and said, "Very well. Zammzt, there is nothing left for you to do at Ched Nasad. I want you to go to Kaanyr Vhok and serve as our voice in his camp. Do whatever you must in order to keep his army aligned against Menzoberranzan, but you will answer to Nimor."
The plain-faced assassin replied, "Of course, Revered Grandfather."
He glanced over at Nimor, but did not allow his thoughts to show on his face.
"I approached the warlord through his consort, Aliisza," Nimor told Zammzt. "She is an alu-fiend and a sorceress of no small skill. She knows that I represent a society or order of some kind, so she should not be sur-prised to receive another of us."
Though I doubt she'll extend you the same welcome she gave to me, he told himself.
"When do you expect the Menzoberranyr to first encounter Horgar's army?" Mauzzkyl asked.
"Four days, I think."
"Do what you can to sow dissent and uncertainty, Anointed Blade," Mauzzkyl said. "The time for subterfuge and stealth is ending. The Jaezred Chaulssin leave the shadows and take the field. Destroy the matron mothers' army and bring your duergar allies to Menzoberranzan as quickly as possible. We will meet you there, and we will see if the Masked Lord favors us or not."
Nimor bowed again, then turned and strode away from the assembled patron fathers. Something would go amiss in his plan - something had to. One could not create such an elaborate collision of so many disparate forces without some of the components falling by the wayside. As best he could tell,though, the Jaezred Chaulssin were prepared. The longer he could keep secret the deadly maneuverings of his allies and his House, the better his chances for success.
Perhaps I will encourage Andzrel to appoint me chief of the expedition's scouts, Nimor thought. No need to trouble the Baenre with irrelevant reports of armies on the move, after all.
The dark elves of House Jaelre proved to be suspicious and ungracious hosts. Ryld had expected to be shown into an audience room of some kind, where they would meet a clan matriarch and bribe, threaten, or per-suade her into allowing them to consult with the priest Tzirik. However, nothing like that occurred. Since they refused to surrender their weapons, the Jaelre drow ushered the company into a small, disused guardroom that had once warded the ruined castle's main gate.
"You will wait here until Tzirik chooses to receive you," the female commanding the watch told them. "If you attempt to leave this room, we will take that as a sign of hostile intent and fall on you at once."
"We are a high embassy from a powerful city," Quenthel said in re-sponse. "You mistreat us at your peril."
"You are slaves of the Spider Queen, and most likely spies and sabo-teurs," the captain replied. "Lolth holds no sway here, spider-kissing bitch."
She closed and locked the iron door before Quenthel could summon a suitable retort, though the fierce agitation of her snake-headed whip cer-tainly hinted at the depths of her anger.
"Do we intend to remain confined here, like rabble locked up in a debtors' gaol?" Jeggred snarled. "I have half a mind to - "
"Not yet, Jeggred," Quenthel countered.
She paced back and forth angrily, her mouth working in silent fury. Pure ire fueled Quenthel with relentless energy. Confinement in a small room with her pent-up anger would be difficult for all of them.
Danifae watched her, then restrained Quenthel's agitated pacing with a gentle hand on the Baenre's arm.