The majority of Sabafae's conversation with Pellanistra had been filling her in on the mysterious Shothotugg, an entity known more commonly as the Eater of Worlds. Before going her separate way, the priestess had promised to come back and visit often. Pellanistra understood that this had a dual purpose: both so that they could compare notes on the Eater, and to keep her in contact with her family and House. She had slept uneasily in this unfamiliar place, only to awaken to a day of lessons.

She and about six other students had been shuffled together into a class, including the noble she and Sabafae encountered the day before—Inshalee Hun'ett, who was walking next to her in silence through the hallway with the rest of their group.

"Who are we going to see first?" one of the other girls asked. Pellanistra had to concentrate on her lessons from Yasmur'ss to recognize the house glyph and the face. Drisxena Tuin'Tarl, she finally remembered, listening to her oldest sister's phantom voice fill her in on the details. 'Fourth daughter of that house. Her mother's becoming a very important woman. They took control of House Aleval's mithril mines during some skirmishes and are the principle suppliers of that metal to the city.'

"Reverend Mother Zilvala," Pellanistra answered idly as she scrutinized Inshalee's expression, mentally comparing this supposed enemy to Sabafae—the two were very different in most respects, but they seemed to share temperaments.

"Shebali," Inshalee spat, causing the blue-eyed girl to frown slightly. She didn't recognize the word.

"What do you mean?" Drisxena asked.

"She's worse than a commoner—she has no house, no allegiances to speak of. People say she was a slave who butchered her way to the top," the Hun'ett noble said coldly.

"People say all kinds of things," Pellanistra said, crossing her arms. She had heard Sabafae speak highly of the Reverend Mother on many occasions. "I have never heard any priestess speak of her with anything less than the utmost respect. Besides, so what if she was a slave?"

Inshalee rounded on her, looking disdainfully at the blue-eyed drowess. "You're a Despana—any dirt can rise to become a noble in your house."

Anger like Pellanistra had never known before reared up for just a moment, the honor of her entire family screaming at her to do something. She could see the slight smile in the taller female's eyes as Inshalee wordlessly goaded her towards fighting. But Pellanistra's lessons from the Matron made her stop—even if the Hun'ett girl was a blood enemy, only a fool would fight her on her own terms. "Where Hun'ett just relies on demonspawn," the younger, smaller girl said in a challenge, mastering her temper.

There was a hiss of indrawn breath from Inshalee, and Pellanistra almost grinned triumphantly. She had just struck a nerve. "A draegloth is a sign of Lolth's favor," Inshalee hissed, hands clenching spasmodically into fists.

"They're tainted blood," Pellanistra challenged, calling on the history lessons from Yasmur'ss to defend her house. "My sister can be gifted a divine vision from the Flesh-Carver herself without soiling our family line. And Hun'ett is nothing but an usurping house spawned by a low-level matriarch of Baenre. Our blood can be traced all the way, untouched, to the Demon Queen of Spiders."

Inshalee lunged forward with a straight punch, only to have Pellanistra evade with startling grace, ducking low and catching her foot behind the Hun'ett noble's ankle. Inshalee had leaned too far forward, and the blue-eyed drowess pushed her foe's torso back as she pulled with her foot—the feat was made all the easier by Inshalee's disturbed center of gravity. The bigger girl hit the ground as though she had been sitting down, only much harder.

"Are you done taunting me?" Pellanistra demanded, crossing her arms again. "Isn't a fight what you wanted?"

"This isn't over," Inshalee growled, getting to her feet with a look so hate-filled it gave Pellanistra momentary pause. She stalked off down the hall in high temper.

Drisxena, however, seemed impressed. "It's true what they say about House Despana, then, that none of you are afraid to speak your mind," the curious drowess said as the others filtered past. "I've never seen anyone else challenge Inshalee like that."

Pellanistra shrugged, bewildered by the almost admiring tone in Drisxena's voice. "Sabafae told me a couple years ago that at Arach-Tinilith, I would be the representative for my whole house. I couldn't just sit idly by and let her say that. And it is true, about the Reverend Mother—I've never heard a cleric say anything disrespectful about her. I don't know about her having been a slave, but it takes a lot to gain that much power without a house."

"We should probably go," Drisxena said, joining Pellanistra in hurrying to their apparent classroom.

They stepped in and seemed to go blind. The room was shrouded in some form of magical darkness at present, and the others were groping their way to seats with some difficulty—there was no heat to distinguish shapes other than their fellow students by. Pellanistra found her way blindly to a chair by listening to the pained curses from her peers. It at least told her where everything at shin and toe level was at.

Once seated, she closed her eyes and relaxed, taking in her surroundings. Beneath the sounds of the other students, she could catch the faint footfalls of someone moving like a wraith through their midst without being touched. Pellanistra kept her eyes closed, turning her head to catch the sound better.

Oh, very good. You're a smart one, a female voice said smoothly in her head. The young drowess jumped, eyes opening in surprise. Don't gape so, Pellanistra Despana. It's unbecoming in a Matron's Daughter.

"How can you do that?" she asked, the others stilling slightly as though trying to figure out to whom she was speaking.

I have my talents. The voice was now audible to everyone as their instructor spoke. "I do apologize, students. You're early—I wasn't expecting you for another harventh. Allow me to shed some light on our present situation. And Inshalee Hun'ett, don't even think about kicking that chair. It's worth more than you are."

Pellanistra snapped her eyes shut as a clap rang out, the magical darkness vanishing suddenly as tiny motes of light near the ceiling flickered to life. The light was sudden and startling to the young females, and most of them who hadn't closed their eyes covered them now with their hands, muttering expletives at this change.

"Such language," the voice said with a sort of pleasant amusement. "Not the sort of thing I expect from future priestesses at all. Still, such things must be tolerated. Now, if all of you would care to find a seat once your vision returns?"

The girl let her eyes adjust at their leisure before studying their new teacher. Reverend Mother Zilvala was not exactly what she had expected. The angles of the other female's face were sharply defined, her frame relatively frail for a priestess's—Yasmur'ss said such things were a sign of malnourishment in youth. Unadorned adamantite piercings traced the outside curve of the cleric's ears from just below the point to the lobe, a fairly common fashion. It was her eyes that bewildered Pellanistra—milky clouds seemed to obscure her pupil and iris, turning them silver as they gazed through the gathered females. They never seemed to focus, instead sweeping around as though looking into her surroundings.

"You're blind," Inshalee said incredulously.

"My eyes do not function," Zilvala corrected, her voice soft and seeming to linger like the tone of a bell in the air. "That makes me far from blind. If you wish to put that statement to the test, I will have to ask you to leave this room, Inshalee Hun'ett. That goes for the rest of you as well."

"Yes, Reverend Mother," the class responded, not wanting to upset this woman.

"Now, my time with you will be brief today, so it's time to give you the talk that all of you need and no one else will give you," the older drowess said, standing up and slowly beginning to circle the table.

"She's a psion," Drisxena murmured to Pellanistra, only to be met by a nod.

"The time for trying and mistakes is past. As of this point, failure is not an option," Zilvala said. "Don't look so shocked, girls, you're here to become priestesses. Did you think Lolth would be forgiving if you fail one of Her tests? As a future cleric, you get no such happy illusion—the world we live in is harsh and twisted with lies, presided over by a cruel and very unsympathetic goddess. The Flesh-Carver will be shedding no tears for you when you meet the inevitable. Death is the fate of prey, the ultimate defeat that will earn you only the Spider Queen's wrath."

The class had stilled, disturbed. Zilvala read their thoughts and expressions very well before continuing. "Oh yes, you've all been told that the rules don't apply, that you're special...different from the others. The ugly truth is, almost all of you in here will lead short, brutal lives and be cut off in your prime. A few will live to be older, wiser, and amass wealth and power to complement their status—Matrons, Reverend Daughters of Lolth, perhaps even a Shadowmistress or two for Vel'Xundussa Magthere. One student every couple centuries will exceed beyond that expectation. You know the names—Myrae Faen Tlabbar, Alyaere Despana, Matron Zilthae. Like them or not, you won't be forgetting them."

Inshalee seemed to fight with herself before speaking. "Why should we believe this?"

"Ask yourself this—what motive do I have to lie? Students suffering from an illusion of grandeur waste my time. The truth is a useful tool sometimes. All of you would be wise to remember that," the Reverend Mother said. "Now, all of you may return to your rooms to meditate for tomorrow and consider this. Pellanistra Despana, you may remain after class to ask me that question of yours."

The other students filtered out obediently, leaving Pellanistra alone with her new teacher. Nervous, she stood near the door as though she expected a confrontation of some kind where she would need to flee. A sixth sense told her that if she provoked Zilvala, she would be dead before she reached the door a few feet away. "Your question?" the sightless female said, taking a seat nearby and gesturing for Pellanistra to join her.

"I thought you had already read my mind, Reverend Mother," the girl said, doing as indicated.

"That would be rude of me. Ask away."

Pellanistra took a deep breath. "Reverend Mother, what can you tell me about the Eater of Worlds?"