Condemnation - By R. A. Salvatore Page 0,39

still lived - er, so to speak - secluded in your house. I thought from time to time that I detected an old and canny hand guiding the affairs of Agrach Dyrr, but I have not met anyone who claims to have seen you in almost two hundred years, and it's been almost twice that since last we spoke."

"I value my privacy, and encourage my descendants to value my pri-vacy as well. It's best for all involved if my hand remains hidden. We wouldn't want to make the matron mothers nervous now, would we?"

"Indeed. In my experience they react poorly to surprises."

The lich laughed, a horrible sound that chilled the blood. He moved closer, gliding forward to stand by Gromph's side and look out over the city. The archmage found himself more than a little unsettled by the un-natural presence of the undead creature - again, a sensation he did not experience often at all.

What secrets does this walking ghost hold in its empty skull? Gromph wondered. What does he know about this city that no one else remembers? What lonely and terrible heights of lore has he scaled alone in the dreary centuries of his deathless existence?

The questions troubled Gromph, but he decided to put such specula-tion behind him for the moment.

"Well, Lord Dyrr, you requested this meeting. What shall we talk about?"

"You were always admirably direct, young Baenre," the lich said. "It's a refreshing quality among our kind. To get swiftly to the point, what do you think of the recent difficulties that have beset our fair city? More specifically, what do you think should be done about the powerlessness that has descended upon our ruling caste of priestesses?"

"What should be done?" Gromph replied. "That's hard to say, when the question would seem to be what can be done? It is hardly within my power to entreat the Queen of the Demonweb Pits to restore her favor to her priestesses. Lolth will do as she will."

"As ever. I do not mean to imply that you could do otherwise." The lich paused, the green fire of its gaze locked on the archmage. "What do you see when you look out over Menzoberranzan today, Gromph?"

"Disorder. Peril. Denial."

"And, perhaps, opportunity?"

Gromph hesitated a moment, then said, "Yes, of course."

"You hesitated. You do not agree with me?"

"No, it is not that."

The archmage frowned, and chose his words with care. He did not wish to give offense to the powerful apparition. Dyrr seemed civil enough, but the mind did not always stand up well to ages of undeath. He had to assume that there was nothing the lich was not capable of.

"Lord Dyrr," he said, "surely you have observed that there is no end to the wiles of the Spider Queen. The only certainty of our existence is that Lolth is a capricious and demanding deity, a goddess who delights in teach-ing very harsh lessons indeed. What if her silence is a ruse to test her faith-ful? Isn't it likely, even probable, that Lolth withholds her favor from her priestesses to see how they respond? Or - worse yet - to see whether the en-emies of her clerics might be emboldened to creep out from the shadows and assault her minions directly? If that is the case, what then becomes of anyone foolish enough to defy the Queen of Spiders when she tires of her test and restores her full favor to her priestesses, just as abruptly as she with-drew it? I would not care to be caught out by such a ploy. Not at all."

"Your logic is sound enough, though I think you have perhaps allowed the habit of caution to hobble your thoughts," Dyrr said. "I could almost agree with you, dear boy, except for this one fact. In the more than two thousand years that I have walked this world,I have never seen this happen before. Oh, I can recall several occasions when Lolth denied her clerics spells for a few days, and many instances in which she arbitrarily decided to stop favoring this priestess or that House all together, casting them down to their enemies, but never has she abandoned our entire race for month after month." The lich glanced up in a reflective manner. "It seems a poor way to treat one's worshipers. Should I ever attain godhood, I think I will try to do a better job of it."

"What precisely do you propose, then, Lord Dyrr?"

"I propose nothing yet, but I do consider, young Baenre, whether powerless

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