permit the worship of gods other than Lolth." He noticed the gathering thunder in Quenthel's face, mirrored in Halisstra's. The scout winced but pressed on. "Under the wise rule of the matron mothers, the worship of drow gods other than Lolth has hardly flourished in Menzoberranzan, and so you may not hold a high opinion of the practice, but I can attest to the fact that the priests of the lesser gods of our race can call upon spells and guidance from their deities, too."
"Where might we find Tzirik?" Ryld asked Valas.
"When last I met him, he lived among outcasts in a remote region known as the Labyrinth, south and west of the Darklake by perhaps a hundred miles. This was some time ago, of course."
"Outcasts," snorted Halisstra.
She was not the only one to express disgust. In the endless game played between the great Houses of the drow, of course there were losers. Most died, but some chose flight over death, taking up a hardscrabble and ignominious existence in the remote stretches of the Underdark. Others abandoned their home cities for different reasons - including, Halisstra supposed, the veneration of gods other than Lolth. She found it hard to believe that anyone so weak as to have been run out of her home city could offer much help at all.
"We'll solve our own problems," she said.
Pharaun glanced up at Halisstra, cold humor dancing in his eyes.
"I forgot that you now have some experience with the peculiar mis-fortune of being deprived of a home city," he remarked. "And I applaud your celerity in including yourself in 'our' discussions and 'our' problems. Your selflessness is laudable."
Halisstra shut her mouth, stung by the words. There would be many hundreds, even thousands of survivors from Ched Nasad scattered in as many tunnels and bolt-holes in the black caverns and passages around the city. Most of those would end their lives in the jaws of mindless monsters, or perhaps fall into wretched slavery as captives of drow from other cities, duergar, or even more horrible Underdark races like the mind flayers or the aboleths. And a few might hope to find some kind of life for them-selves through their own wits and resourcefulness. It was not unknown for a House to take into its ranks a defeated enemy who had demonstrated her usefulness. House Melarn was dead. Wherever Halisstra journeyed next, she would be starting from square one. The advantages of her birth, the wealth and power of her city, all that meant nothing anymore.
She considered her reply carefully, conscious of the acute interest of the other drow around her, and said, "Spare me your pity." She spoke in a murderous hiss, putting iron in her voice that she did not feel. "Unless I miss my guess, Menzoberranzan doesn't stand so very far from Ched Nasad's fate, else you never would have come to seek our aid. Our diffi-culties are your difficulties, are they not?"
Her words had the desired effect. The wizard looked away, while the other Menzoberranyr shifted nervously, studying each other's reactions. Quenthel visibly flinched, her mouth tightening into a fierce scowl.
"Enough, both of you," she said, turning to Valas. "This outcast priest of Vhaeraun - why would he aid us in any way? He is not likely to enter-tain an especially charitable attitude toward our cause."
Valas replied, "I couldn't say, Mistress. All I can do is bring you to him. What happens after that depends on you."
The ruined courtyard fell silent. The sun was a double handspan into the sky, and blinding shafts of pure light sliced through the darkness of the ruined court from crumbling embrasures in the high walls. The ruins were apparently not as desolate as Halisstra had thought. She could hear the furtive sounds of small creatures scrabbling across sand and rubble, faint and small in the distance.
"The Labyrinth lies only a hundred miles from the Darklake?" Quen-thel asked. The scout nodded once. The priestess folded her arms and thought. "Then it's not very far from our homeward course, in any event. Pharaun, do you command any magic that might speed our travel? Fight-ing our way home across the surface realms appeals to me no more than it does the weapons master."
The wizard leeredand rose to his feet, preening under Quenthel's request for help.
"Teleportation is risky," he said. "First, thefaerzress of the Underdark makes it dangerous to attempt transport spells. More to the point, I have never visited the Labyrinth, and so have no idea where I would