faces. Nimor blinked. It wasn't often that the patron fathers encountered an event in which they could collectively take pleasure. Grandfather Mauzzkyl himself broke the news.
"Eryndlyn proceeds much as we expected - Patron Father Tomphael brought tidings not dissimilar to your own - but Ched Nasad. . . . From Ched Nasad, Patron Father Zammzt returns in triumph."
He restrained a hot flash of jealousy and turned to face Zammzt, a dark elf of such unremarkable appearance he might have been a lowly armorer or swordsmith, a common artisan barely a step above a slave. Zammzt merely folded his arms across his chest and inclined his head in recognition of Grandfather Mauzzkyl's remark.
"What happened?" asked Nimor. "Ched Nasad should not have fallen so easily."
"As it happened, Anointed Blade, the stonefire bombs your duergar allies provided us had a devastating effect on the calcified webs upon which Ched Nasad was built," Zammzt said, doubtless feigning his hu-mility. "Just as flame consumes a cobweb, the stonefire devoured the very structure of the city. With their castles and their palaces plummeting to the bottom of the cavern like burning sparks of paper, the Ched Nasadans could organize no real defense at all. No strong point of any significance survived the fires, and few of the House armies escaped from the confla-grations to contest the cavern."
"What is left of the city?"
"Very little, I'm afraid. A few isolated districts and outlying struc-tures relegated to side caverns survived the fire. Of the city's people, I would guess that half perished in the fall and roughly one-third fled into the outer tunnels, where they will doubtless come to a variety of bad ends. Most of the survivors belong to those minor Houses allied with us, or minor Houses who were quick to appreciate the new order of things in the city."
Nimor stroked his chin and said, "So, from a city of twenty thousand, only three thousand remain?"
"A little less, after the slaves fled the city," Zammzt replied, allowing himself a fierce grin. "Of the spider-kissing females, nothing remains."
"Likely some number of Lolth priestesses escaped with those who fled into the Underdark," Nimor mused. "They won't all die in the tunnels. Still, that is great news, Patron Father. We have freed our first city from Lolth's dominion. Others are sure to follow."
Patron Father Xorthaul, the mail-clad priest, snorted in dissent.
"What's the point of removing the Lolth-worshipers from a city if you must level the city to do it?" he asked. "We may rule Ched Nasad now,but all we rule is a smoking chasm and a few dispossessed wretches."
Mauzzkyl shifted his weight and said sharply, "That does not matter, Xorthaul. We have spoken before of the costs of our efforts. Decades, even centuries of misery are nothing if we achieve our ends. Our master is patient." The revered grandfather offered a hard, cruel grin. "We have in two short months accomplished something our fathers among the Jaezred Chaulssin have worked toward for centuries. I would gladly repeat a dozen Ched Nasads all across the Underdark if it succeeded in breaking the Spider Queen's stranglehold over our race. Ched Nasad may be in ruins, but when the city rises again it will rise in our image, its society molded by our beliefs and guided by our secret hand. We are not mere assassins or anarchists, Xorthaul, we are the cold and deliberate hand that culls the weak, the blade that sculpts history."
The collected dark elves nodded assent. Mauzzkyl turned to face Nimor.
"Nimor, my Anointed Blade, Menzoberranzan cries out for the cleans-ing fire that has purged Ched Nasad. Do not fail in this."
"Revered Grandfather, I assure you that I will not," Nimor said. "I have already prepared my next move. I have reached an understanding with one of the great Houses. They will support us, but they require a demonstration of our resolve and competence. I am reasonably confi-dent that I can oblige them. Within days, one House of Menzoberran-zan will be lacking a matron mother and another will be ensnared in our net."
Mauzzkyl smiled in cold approval and said, "I wish you good hunting, then, Anointed Blade."
Nimor bowed once, and turned to leave the circle. Behind him, he could hear the patron fathers dispersing, each to return to his own hidden House in cities scattered over thousands of miles through the Underdark. Secret cabals of the Jaezred Chaulssin existed in at least one minor House of most drow cities. Each patron father ruled absolutely over a