Condemnation - By R. A. Salvatore Page 0,42

of a word for what is in my heart," she said. "I have thought of little else since we began this interminable voyage. Ched Nasad was more than a city, Danifae. It was a dream, a dark and glorious dream of the Spider Queen. Graceful castles, soaring webs, Houses full of wealth and pride and ambition, all burned to ashes in a few short hours. The city, its matrons and daughters, the beautiful web-spun palaces, all lost now, and for what reason?" She closed her eyes and battled the hot ache in the hollow of her breast. "The dwarves did not destroy us. We de-stroyed ourselves."

"I will not mourn the passing of Ched Nasad," Danifae said. Halisstra looked up sharply, cut more by the girl's dispassionate tone than her words. "It was a city full of enemies, most of whom are dead, while others flee as paupers into the wilds of the Underdark. No, I will not mourn Ched Nasad. Who, besides the few Ched Nasadans who survive, will?"

Halisstra did not choose to answer. No one would grieve for a city of drow, not even other dark elves. That was the way of the drow. The strong endured, and the weak fell by the wayside, as the Spider Queen demanded. Danifae waited for a long time before she spoke again.

"Have you given thought to what we will do next?"

Halisstra glanced at her and said, "Our lot is already cast with the Menzoberranyr, is it not?"

"For today, yes, but tomorrow will your purposes and theirs coincide? What will you do if Lolth's favor returns tomorrow? Where would you go?"

"Does it matter?" Halisstra said. "Return to Ched Nasad, I suppose, and gather together what survivors I can. It will be a hard task, more than I likely could hope to accomplish evenin a lifetime, but with the Spider Queen's blessing House Melarn may yet rise again."

"Do you think Quenthel would permit such a thing?"

"Why should she care what I do with the rest of my life? Especially if I spend it raising a wretched fragment of a House over the smoking ruins of my city?" Halisstra said bitterly.

Danifae merely spread her hands. Halisstra understood. What reason would a Baenre need to do anything at all, really? The Menzoberranyr might have been their saviors from the wreck of Ched Nasad, but at a word from Quenthel they might become their captors, or their killers. The girl glanced back to where the others meditated or stood their watches, and changed to signs, carefully hidden from the rest of the company.

Perhaps it might be wise to consider exactly how we can make ourselves indispensable to the Menzoberranyr, she motioned. The hour will come when we will no longer wish to rely on Quenthel Baenre's benevolence, such as it is.

"Careful," Halisstra cautioned.

She sat up straight and deliberately controlled her own impulse to look over her shoulder. Danifae had an uncanny instinct for manipulation, but if Quenthel suspected that Halisstra and Danifae planned to under-mine her authority - or even impose limits on her freedom of action - Halisstra didn't doubt that the Baenre would take quick and drastic steps to remove a perceived challenge.

It is a dangerous thing you suggest, Danifae. Quenthel would not hesitate to kill a challenger, and if I were killed -

I would not survive, Danifae finished for her. I understand the condi-tions of my captivity quite well, Mistress Melarn. Still, inaction in the face of our danger is every bit as risky as what I am about to propose. Hear me out, and you can decide what you wish me to do.

Halisstra measured the girl, studying her perfect features, her alluring figure. She thought of the conversation between Quenthel and Danifae she had overheard in the catacombs of Hlaungadath. She could put a halt to Danifae's scheming with a word, of course. She could even compel it through the magic of the locket - but then she wouldn't know what Dan-ifae plotted, would she?

"Very well," she said. Tell me what you have in mind.
Chapter SIX
Gracklstugh, like Menzoberranzan, was a cavern city. Unlike the realm of the dark elves, the stalagmites harbored great stinking smelters and foundries, not the elegant castles of noble families. The air had an acrid reek, and the clamor of industry rang endlessly throughout the cavern - the roaring of fires, the metallic ringing of iron on iron, and the rush of polluted streams carrying away the wastes of the duergar forges. Unlike Menzoberranzan, lightless except for

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