an insane whore or a cast-off hag afflicted with grand delusions. But she was neither. She was a spider, and she was being tested, nothing more and nothing less.
She had failed Lolth back in the Demonweb Pitsthat was why she had not been chosen to be the Yor'thaebut she would atone for that failure and someday again find favor in the Spider Queen's eight eyes.
In the meantime, Danifae murdered in Lolth's name. Every eighth client that came to her garret fell prey to her. The Spider Queen might not have been answering Danifae's prayers, but Danifae offered sacrifices nevertheless.
She disposed of the corpses by selling them to an elderly drow fungus farmer. Danifae's prey ended up fertilizer in the mushroom fields of the Donigarten.
The weak fed the strong, she thought, and smiled through her scars.
A knock on her door turned her around.
" 'Fae," said a slurred voice from behind the door. "Open up. I want to taste your flesh."
Danifae knew the voice. Heegan, the second son of a failed merchant, who always stank of pickled mushrooms and mindwine.
"Hold a moment," Danifae said, and the male did as he was told.
Heegan was number eight.
Danifae pulled the vial of blackroot distillate from her pouch, daubed her finger, and coated her lips. Donning a smile, she moved to the door and opened it.
There in the hallway stood Heegan, his white hair mussed, his filthy shirt partially unbuttoned. Danifae stood two hands taller than the male. She looked at his watery, dull red eyes and thought, You are one of the weak.
"Well met, 'F ae," he said, leering at her breasts, covered only in her threadbare shift. "Aren't we a pretty pair?"
He dangled a pouch of coins under her nose.
Danifae snatched the coins and slapped him across the face. He smiled through his bleeding lip, seized her in his arms, and pressed his lips to her. His breath was foul, his excited grunts fouler. She abided, knowing that with each kiss he became more ensnared in her web.
She allowed him to steer her toward the bed. He tried to lay her down but she used her superior strength to turn him around and force him down instead. He grinned drunkenly, muttering some ridiculous endearment.
She straddled him and he licked his lips in excitement. His hands fumbled with her shift, her sash, and she could tell from his movements that more than mindwine was clouding his mind. His hand passed over the blackroot vial and never paused, so eager was he to get at her skin.
Smiling into his face, she teased him for another thirty countuntil his eager expression grew confused, then alarmed.
"What's happening to me?" he said, his speech thick and sloppy. "What have you done to me, bitch?"
He tried to shove her off him but the drug had already taken hold. His strength was gone, and he managed only to paw at her shoulders. In moments, he was fully paralyzed and could only stare up at her in horror.
She eyed him coldly, still smiling, and began her incantation. Her voice called upon Lolth, offering the male's death for her amusement. When she finished her prayer, she put her hands on his throat and throttled him.
He died with bulging eyes and a wet gurgle.
"You are the weak," she whispered in his ear. "And I am the spider."
Chapter Seventeen
Halisstra stepped into the Pass of the Soulreaver and felt her body stretch through time and space. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to keep moving forward. Vomit raced up her throat, but she fought it down.
A narrow path stretched before her and behind her. Sheer walls rose to either side. A mist cloaked her ankles.
The mist screamed at her and hissed.
She clutched the Crescent Blade. She was not alone and she knew it.
"Come out," she said, her voice low and dangerous.
Ahead, the mist swirled and formed into a vast serpent whose body stretched behind it to infinity. Black, empty eyes stared into Halisstra's soul and pinioned her in place. The serpent opened its mouth and hissed. The sound turned Halisstra's legs to water.
Deep within the serpent writhed the tiny, partially consumed essences of millions of failed souls. Their screams, rich with despair, fat with terror, bombarded Halisstra. She struggled to stand her ground. She saw her own fate in themshe too was a failed soulbut instead of causing her despair, it raised her anger. "Face me," she said and did not know whether she was talking to the creature or to someone else.