meeting with Triel. The assumed plan to conquer Mithril Hall seemed very promising. Jarlaxle had been to the dwarven stronghold, had witnessed its defenses. Although formidable, they seemed meager against the strength of a drow army. When Menzoberranzan conquered Mithril Hall, with Matron Baenre at the head of the force, Lloth would be supremely pleased, and House Baenre would know its pinnacle of glory. As Triel had put it, Matron Baenre would have her legacy. The pinnacle of power? The thought hung in Jarlaxle's mind. He paused beside Narbondel, the great pillar time clock of Menzoberranzan, a smile widening across his ebon skinned face. "Pinnacle of power?" he whispered aloud.
Suddenly Jarlaxle understood Triel's trepidation's. She feared that her mother might overstep her bounds, might be gambling an already impressive empire for the sake of yet another acquisition. Even as he considered the notion, Jarlaxle understood a deeper significance to it all. Suppose that Matron Baenre was successful, that Mithril Hall was conquered and Blingdenstone after that? He mused. What enemies would then be left to threaten the drow city, to hold together the tentative hierarchy in Menzoberranzan?
For that matter, why had Blingdenstone, a place of enemies so near Menzoberranzan, been allowed to survive for all these centuries? Jarlaxle knew the answer. He knew that the gnomes unintentionally served as the glue that kept Menzoberranzan's houses in line. With a common enemy so near, the drow's constant infighting had to be kept under control. But now Matron Baenre hinted at ungluing, expanding her empire to include not only Mithril Hall, but the troublesome gnomes as well. Triel did not fear that the drow would be beaten; neither did she fear any alliance with the small colony of illithids. She was afraid that her mother would succeed, would gain her legacy. Matron Baenre was old, ancient even by drow standards, and Triel was next in line for the house seat. At present, that would be a comfortable place indeed, but it would become far more tentative and dangerous if Mithril Hall and Blingdenstone were taken. The binding common enemy that kept the houses in line would be no more, and Triel would have to worry about a tie to the surface world a long way from Menzoberranzan, where reprisals by the allies of Mithril Hall would be inevitable. Jarlaxle understood what Matron Baenre wanted, but now he wondered what Lloth, backing the withered female's plans, had in mind. "Chaos, " he decided. Menzoberranzan had been quiet for a long, long time. Some houses fought, that was inevitable. House Do'Urden and House DeVir, both ruling houses, had been obliterated, but the general structure of the city had remained solid and unthreatened.
"Ah, but you are delightful, " Jarlaxle said, speaking his thoughts of Lloth aloud. He suddenly suspected that Lloth desired a new order, a refreshing housecleaning of a city grown boring. No wonder that Triel, in line to inherit her mother's legacy, was not amused. The bald mercenary, himself a lover of intrigue and chaos, laughed heartily and looked to Narbondel. The clock's heat was greatly diminished, showing it to be late in the Underdark night. Jarlaxle clicked his heels against the stone and set out for the Qu'ellarz'orl, the high plateau on Menzoberranzan's eastern wall, the region housing the city's most powerful house. He didn't want to be late for his meeting with Matron Baenre, to whom he would report on in his "secret" meeting with her eldest daughter. Jarlaxle pondered how much he would tell the withered matron mother, and how he might twist his words to his best advantage.
How he loved the intrigue.
Chapter 2 FAREWELL RIDDLES
Bleary eyed after yet another long, restless night, Catti-brie pulled on a robe and crossed her small room, hoping to find comfort in the daylight. Her thick auburn hair had been flattened on one side of her head, forcing an angled cowlick on the other side, but she didn't care. Busy rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she nearly stumbled over the threshold and paused there, struck suddenly by something she did not understand.
She ran her fingers over the wood of the door and stood con fused, nearly overwhelmed by the same feeling she had felt the night before, that something was out of place, that something was wrong. She had intended to go straight to breakfast, but felt com pelled to get Drizzt instead.
The young woman shuffled swiftly down the corridor