seemed unremarkable, a plain circular chamber with a hole in the ceiling to Jarlaxle's left and a hole in the floor to his right.
He nodded to Dantrag, who waved his hand out to the left, and Jarlaxle walked under the hole. A tingling magic grabbed him and gradually lifted him into the air, levitating him to the great mound's second level. Inside the cylinder, this area appeared identical to the first, and Jarlaxle moved directly across the way, to the ceiling hole that would lead him to the third level.
Dantrag was up into the second level as Jarlaxle silently floated up to the third, and the weapon master came up quickly, catching Jarlaxle's arm as he reached for the opening mechanism to this level's door. Dantrag nodded to the next ceiling hole, which led to the fourth level and Matron Baenre's private throne room.
The fourth level? Jarlaxle pondered as he followed Dantrag into place and slowly began to levitate once more. Matron Baenre's pri vate throne room? Normally, the first matron mother held audience in the mound's third level.
Matron Baenre already has a guest, Dantrag explained in the hand code as Jarlaxle's head came above the floor.
Jarlaxle nodded and stepped away from the hole, allowing Dantrag to lead the way. Dantrag did not reach for the door, how ever, but rather reached into a pouch and produced some silvery glowing dust. With a wink to the mercenary, he flung the dust against the back wall. It sparkled and moved of its own accord, formed a silvery spider's web, which then spiraled outward, much like the Baenre gates, leaving a clear opening.
After you, Dantrag's hands politely suggested.
Jarlaxle studied the devious fighter, trying to discern if treach ery was afoot. Might he climb through the obvious extradimen sional gate only to find himself stranded on some hellish plane of existence?
Dantrag was a cool opponent, his beautiful, chiseled features, cheekbones set high and resolute, revealing nothing to Jarlaxle's usually effective, probing gaze. Jarlaxle did go through the opening, though, finally deciding that Dantrag was too proud to trick him into oblivion. If Dantrag had wanted Jarlaxle out of the way, he would have used weapons, not wizard's mischief.
The Baenre son stepped right behind Jarlaxle, into a small, extradimensional pocket sharing space with Matron Baenre's throne room. Dantrag led Jarlaxle along a thin silver thread to the far side of the small chamber, to an opening that looked out into the room.
There, on a large sapphire throne, sat the withered Matron Baenre, her face crisscrossed by thousands of spidery lines. Jarlaxle spent a long moment eyeing the Throne before considering the matron mother, and he unconsciously licked his thin lips. Dantrag chuckled at his side, for the wary Baenre could understand the mer cenary's desire. At the end of each of the throne's arms was set a huge diamond of no fewer than thirty carats.
The throne itself was carved of the purest black sapphire, a shin ing well that offered an invitation into its depths. Writhing forms moved about inside that pool of blackness; rumor said that the tor mented souls of all those who had been unfaithful to Lloth, and had, in turn, been transformed into hideous driders, resided in an inky black dimension within the confines of Matron Baenre's fabulous throne.
That sobering thought brought the mercenary from his casing; he might consider the act, but he would never be so foolish as to try to take one of those diamonds! He looked to Matron Baenre then~, her two unremarkable scribes huddled behind her, busily taking notes. The first matron mother was flanked on her left by Bladen' Kerst, the oldest daughter in the house proper, the third oldest of the siblings behind Triel and Gromph. Jarlaxle liked Bladen'Kerst even less than he liked Triel, for she was sadistic in the extreme. On sev eral occasions, the mercenary had thought he might have to kill her in self defense. That would have been a difficult situation, though Jarlaxle suspected that Matron Baenre, privately, would be glad to have the wicked Bladen'Kerst dead. Even the powerful matron mother couldn't fully control that one.
On Matron Baenre's right stood another of Jarlaxle's least favorite beings, the illithid, Methil El Viddenvelp, the octopus headed advisor to Matron Baenre. He wore, as always, his unre markable, rich crimson robe, its sleeves long so that the creature could keep its scrawny, three