Phaere was pleased with the body, particularly the gaping hole where his heart had been. Yoshimo's final resting place ended up being the belly of her little sister Pafogen's giant spider.

The Bhaalspawn brother and sister watched the monster wrap him into a silk cocoon and haul him into its web in the darkness above. It was a surreal experience for them both. For Sarevok, because the corpse was disguised to look like him, and it was his own cold face vanishing under layers of spider silk. For Arowan because she knew that the body was really her husband.

"Where is the heart Solaufein?" Phaere asked. "Did you bring it to me?"

"I think we are past exchanging romantic trinkets, don't you?" he replied sourly.

The woman dismissed him with a scowl, but seemed to have taken a shine to Arowan, the drow who so resembled her. Before letting her leave with the others, Phaere insisted on restyling her hair into a loose bun just like her own, so that they resembled each other even more.

"When I become Matron Mother," she promised, "I will take you everywhere I go. We shall dress in matching outfits. From a distance no assassin will be able to tell us apart."

"Thank you, mistress," Arowan replied blankly.

Phaere leaned down and breathed to her in a venomous whisper.

"I know what you're up to."

"I see," she answered dully.

She couldn't bring herself to care anymore whether Phaere killed her. Death would not release her from her misery, she would simply descend to the Abyss and wait, perhaps for centuries, for the last of her siblings to die. Before becoming Bhaal.

Something in her hardened like a chrysalis. No. No matter what happened she was not going to become Bhaal!

"What exactly do you think I am up to?" she asked coldly.

"Solaufein cares nothing for you, you know," Phaere hissed. "He only wants you because you look like me."

She yanked the ranger's hair hard as she styled it, scratching her fingers spitefully over her scalp. Arowan did not mind this. It was a useful distraction from thinking about Yoshimo, which she must not do, or the Slayer might escape her.

"I am not sleeping with him," Arowan replied tersely. "I think you have the wrong idea."

"I don't believe you, but if you're not I need you to start," Phaere replied. "You heard what he said to me in the marketplace. I cannot endure such insults much longer without losing my place in Lolth's hierarchy, but neither can I strike at him without sparking a war between houses. A war which would be most inconvenient at a time when we have… other plans."

"So you want me to do it?" she guessed. Phaere pulled her hair back so far that Arowan's neck was exposed over her knee. She held the point of a poisonous dagger to the ranger's throat. Part of Arowan wished that she would lose her grip, prick her with it, and send her down to the Abyss where she could cry over Yoshimo in peace.

"Tie him up in a lust chamber, whip or throttle him and 'accidentally' go too far," Phaere suggested. "His sponsors will understand. Incidents like that happen all the time. Here in Urst Natha we like to test our partner's strength and endurance, and there is little sympathy for those who fail to make the grade. I will see to it that you have the funds to compensate his patrons for their loss."

Her hand slipped down Arowan's torso, examining her like a prize sow on market day. Phaere was being tactile in a way which would have made her uncomfortable yesterday. But today she was past caring.

"Whatever," she sighed.

"Excellent!" Phaere released Arowan and rubbed her hands together gleefully. "You will find him in his quarters in the Male Fighters' Society, sulking as is his wont. Instruct him to show you his bedroom. I doubt he will guess your true intentions. Once inside, make sure that you are both as loud as possible. The other males must believe that he is enjoying himself until the game goes wrong, then kill him."

"Right."

Phaere dismissed her with an idle wave of her hand.

The city passed either side of her as though in a foggy blur. She barely paid the passing drow any attention, trapped as she was in her own private hell. Her grief had to be constantly suppressed, kept at bay for fear of releasing the slayer. Yet it was lurking constantly beneath the surface.

At one building she came to, two young drow were riding a spider up to the roof, just as she and Yoshimo had done. The female was not bullying the male, nor did either seem to be trying to engineer the other falling to their death. She wondered if either of the happy couple would be spared the purge, and whether they'd have a hope of survival even if they did.

She found Solaufein not in the Male Fighters' Society but in the tavern with everybody else. Three drow bards were tuning their instruments atop a raised platform, and he seemed to have chosen to sit as far from them as possible. The party had been talking, but all fell silent when she came in. Without comment she sat down on Solaufein's knee and said in a dead voice to the astonished commander:

"Phaere just ordered me to lure you into a bedchamber, murder you and claim it was a sex game gone wrong. I'm supposed to be seducing you now. Try to look pleased."

"Why…?"

"She thinks you'll find me irresistible because I look a bit like her," Arowan replied in the same emotionless tone.

"Arrogant wench!" Solaufein began angrily. "I would sooner lie with a drider than her!"

"…is not the mood we're aiming for here. Try again."

They were spared the need to talk further, however, by the drow musicians starting to play. These were the first non-fighting entertainers that Arowan had seen amongst drow, Baeloth not included. Most of the music was provided by slaves. Two males played elongated string instruments, while the female sang.

It was a sad, melancholy song, like a funeral melody. Hearing it made continuing to supress her feelings very difficult. Arowan turned to the others.

"Did you arrange this?" she asked, almost accusingly.

"As a tribute to your fallen husband," Solaufein nodded. "Though the bards don't know this, of course."

"I'm surprised drow would permit this sort of mourning," Arowan replied, trying to talk over the music so that she did not have to listen to it.

"For a male they would not," replied Viconia who was listening to the bard intently. Rasaad was astonished to see that the song had moved her to tears.

"The song is about her female lover?" Rasaad enquired. Viconia was astonished by the question.

"Not her lover! Can't you surfacers hear her pain? She has lost far more than a mere lover! Listen to the words," the drow replied. "She's singing for her enemy!"

Straining their ears to pick up the actual words, they realised that she was right. For all that this composition was performed like a romantic ballad on the surface, the bard was actually singing about all the ways that she and her nemesis had tried to slay each other over the years before she'd finally had the misfortune to succeed. It was a beautiful, heartfelt hate poem about a strife so powerful that the victor was devastated to have finally ended it and was grieving for her tragic loss.

"Only the drow…" Arowan muttered. She looked at Viconia with a half-smile. "Are you going to sing one of these for me when I die?"

"No. Even if I had the musical talent, one does not compose a tribute like this for just anybody," Viconia replied earnestly. "You have to understand that drow have many lovers but only a lucky few of us will experience true hatred in our lifetimes. Drow feuds are usually short. To have a foe so evenly matched that the relationship has time to mature into something deeper… it is a special and sacred thing. Every drow child grows up dreaming of someday finding the one."

"Let me be sure that I understand this correctly," Rasaad's brow furrowed, "When drow say 'the one' they are referring to their one true enemy and not their one true love?"

"One true love?" Viconia wrinkled her nose.

"So tell me, how do drow fairy tales work Viconia?" sneered Jaheira. "Is the beautiful princess locked in a tower, awaiting her destined rival to come and sweep her off her feet?"

"Yes, I recall a story like that," the drow replied, twirling a lock of silver hair dreamily about her finger. "Only she cut off her feet. The heroine sought revenge for over a century. In the end she summoned the aid of a demon who dragged them both to Avernus and agony ever after."

"Ah. Sounds familiar. Something like that happened to me once," Sarevok nodded. "Although I have yet to feel the urge to compose an ode to Freya."

"You have not been listening. Epic enmities are supposed to be an even match," said Rasaad, who did not trust the new addition to their party. "Freya mauled you like a chew toy every time."

Arowan tried not to look at Sarevok, who was now wearing a face that had been Yoshimo's hours before. They had fooled about with their new appearances, never really believing that it would be the last time. Over and over she played in her mind what they might have done differently to avoid it coming to this. Yet perhaps the only way would be to turn back time right to their first meeting on the road to Baldur's Gate, and warn him then. That's how far back they would have had to go to escape the geas… it made her wonder if she had ever had control over any of her fate.

Solaufein was thinking. His eyes reflected the light of a candle on their table, making them dance like tongues of flame.

"I shall be forced to leave the city after all," he mused. "But it need not be for nothing. Many of the houses, including mine and Phaere's, span multiple cities. If the children survive the coming purge the matron mothers will be impressed with their strength. They might be persuaded that such young ones are worth salvaging. So be it. I will flee and organize the relief effort from a distance."


They staged his death in the Male Fighters' Society, exactly as Phaere had ordered it. Arowan slumped on the edge of his bed making noises, albeit in a rather half-hearted way. She was copying from what she had heard passing the lust chambers. Fortunately Solaufein (whose survival had long depended on satisfying the matron mother of her house's rival) was rather more convincing. He even had the presence of mind to thump the mattress a few times to make the bed squeak.

"Will you be alright?" she asked glumly.

"I was about to ask you the same question," Solaufein sighed. "It… it does become easier. With time."

"That's what Jaheira said too," Arowan replied quietly. She didn't believe it. The future stretched out before her like a joyless ashen road.

There was a rapping noise on the window. Solaufein opened it and a horrendous stench blew in, that made her gag. Ferape the teacher's head poked through, looking all about him to make sure the coast was clear. Then he scrambled in.

He and Solaufein pulled a third drow through the window by the shoulders, while two human slaves pushed up his feet. It took her a moment to register that this third drow was the source of the smell, and that he was very, very dead. As soon as the corpse was safely inside, the frightened slaves fled.

Arowan pressed her sleeve over her nose, but Ferape began to hastily strip the body while Solaufein unbuckled his armour. He had been fully clothed throughout their feigned intercourse, but now he was undressing quickly to swap clothes with the stiff, dead man. The double's face was starting to shrivel, but she suspected that he was the same man she'd seen murdered by his own mother when they'd first arrived in Urst Natha.

"Where did you get that body?" she recoiled.

"Contrary to the teachings of the Spider Queen, it does sometimes pay to be k- kind to those under you," Ferape replied. "Solaufein shielded me from being fed to Pafogen's spider and now I return the favour by helping him fake his death. I have been sneaking extra food to the corpse gatherers for years, and tonight they were willing to risk their safety to bring me this!"

Be kind to others or they won't be kind to you. It was a concept that most humans were introduced to as toddlers, but Ferape was explaining it slowly and carefully as though he had uncovered a revolutionary philosophy. He noticed her stare and frowned at her.

"Is something wrong?"

"No. It's just… meeting you and your students explains an awful lot about Viconia. That's all."

Like when they had first met. How incapable she had been of grasping the fact that Arowan was trying to help her, and that she was making her own life needlessly difficult by being so hostile. How else would she behave, when she had grown up with all this?

'She must have found my behaviour as strange as I found hers,' thought Arowan. 'She probably thought that if she wasn't aggressive enough, we'd think her weak and kick her out to die.'

"Why do you work together?" Solaufein asked her. "We are not… unaware… that surfacers do things differently. We encounter them here from time to time after all. Yet even by the standards of my people it is obvious that you and Viconia loathe each other."

"It's true. We don't get on, but bad luck keeps throwing us back together," sighed Arowan. "When we first met we had little knowledge of each other's kind. Perhaps if we had known then what we know now things might have been different… but it's far too late. Too much water under the bridge."

Solaufein nodded. He and Ferape were almost finished arranging the corpse. They had added some whip marks along with a few accessories which explained the 'accident.' The sight of them made her feel even more queasy.

"Just leave it there," Ferape recommended. "Give it another day or two to moulder and only your nearest and dearest will know it isn't you."

"Somehow I don't think Phaere will be coming over here to weep over my body," Solaufein muttered. "Well Arowan, I must take my leave. May… may Eilistraee, Lady Silverhair, watch over you always. You and the Servant of all Faiths."

"She will watch over the Servant of all Faiths, certainly," Arowan replied wryly. "All the gods do. But I'd say it's obvious at this point that they hate me. If anything is watching over me, it's a demon."

"You know that isn't true," Solaufein replied sadly. "I'd be lying if I told you I had never felt that way myself… but keep faith and farewell. I have a feeling that we will meet again."


The next few days passed in a dreary blur. Arowan continued to suppress her strongest emotions and the slayer remained contained, though her face was bleeding almost constantly from scratching at her scar. This did not excite any interest in Urst Natha. Passers-by assumed that she had either been fighting or had been punished for something.

Adalon's precious eggs, it transpired, were to be used to bribe a demon and the more of Phaere's trust they gained, the more she let slip to them until in the end they knew the whole plan. Matron Mother Ardulace was keeping the eggs in the temple of Lolth. Her intention was to summon a demon, and give him the dragon eggs as payment for his aid in destroying Suldanessellar.

Viconia could not help but be impressed by the sheer audacity of this plan, but Phaere's next words to Rasaad made her insides freeze.

"I have been watching you in the fighting pits male," she smiled. "Me, and every other female in Urst Natha. You might have been wondering why none of them have demanded your presence in the bedchamber yet? Perhaps you have already guessed that I have claimed you for myself."

"I beg your pardon?" Rasaad replied, stunned.

Phaere slunk forward and ran her fingers seductively over his shoulders. Long ago, when they had first started adventuring as a group, he had been attracted to both Arowan and Viconia. If the gods had taken the worst traits of both of them and rolled them into one new person, it would be Phaere. Despite having been cursed with a strong, unwanted libido, he felt no desire to do this.

"You are a strong and powerful male, worthy of my bed. You shall remain here for a time and please me… come."

Rasaad's eyes turned automatically to Veldrin. The rest of the party looked at each other frantically. They had been vaguely aware that this sort of thing occurred in drow society, but they had not thought to discuss ahead of time what to do if it happened to one of them.

"Is this really necessary?" Arowan asked, lamely. Phaere looked at her as though she had just asked whether it was necessary to brush one's teeth.

"Of course it is necessary, fool! The fact that I command it makes it necessary." She turned back to Rasaad. "Male, remove your clothing and come to my bed chamber already."

"N… No! I do not wish this!" Rasaad protested.

"You don't have a choice, get on with it," muttered Viconia out of the corner of her mouth.

"This is acceptable to you?" the Selunite blinked.

"Who cares what is acceptable to Veldrin? Your wishes and his do not come into this!" thundered Phaere. "Refuse me again and you shall pay the ultimate price, do you understand? As for Veldrin, what do I care if you dally with him. But I'll have him executed before I allow you to choose him over me. Now come here!"

Rasaad felt like his insides were full of maggots, but he really didn't have a choice. Slowly and reluctantly he began to step toward the bedroom, taking off his shirt as he went. The tattoos adorning his muscles had been transformed by Adalon's magic into webs and spiders. Phaere admired them and licked her lips. The eyes of Selune on his chest, long-since blinded by scars, were now the many eyes of a sightless arachnid. It gave Arowan an idea.

"Apologies, mistress!" the ranger piped up suddenly. "I fear that I am responsible for this… reluctance on the part of our male."

"You?" Phaere narrowed her eyes.

"Yes… I er… I was his first female back in Ched Nasad and I was a little… over-enthusiastic about breaking him in. Look at his chest, he still bears the scars."

Phaere's eyes surveyed Rasaad's exposed torso, where the spider tattoos went all the way down. One of them had indeed been ruined by hideous slash marks across his chest. It was a nasty wound indeed, which had in fact been inflicted by an angry dragon, but Arowan was taking credit for it now.

"If you think that's bad you should see his legs," Arowan continued earnestly. "Show her."

Rasaad rolled up his trousers revealing twisted burn scars which contorted his flesh from foot to thigh. He had learnt to live with the disfigurement but never imagined that he would actually be grateful for it, until now.

"Unappealing but no matter," replied Phaere dismissively. "As long as his manhood is not similarly deformed."

"Yes but, you see, the problem is that I also indulged in a little psychological torture," Arowan went on. She was starting to get a grip on how the drow thought, or at least how Phaere's mind worked, and she was fairly certain she could talk their way out of this situation. "He was such a strong male, I was curious to see what it would take to break him. I succeeded too fully in my efforts. He has been unable to perform with females ever since and you especially…"

"What do you mean 'me especially?'" thundered the drow.

"Well… I mean, you look a lot like me," the ranger reminded her. "You have said so yourself."

"The sight of her makes his cock wilt," Veldrin added. "She has that effect on most males."

Phaere looked extremely put out. She cast an appraising eye over Rasaad and sniffed.

"That explains a great deal. We shall have to find the time to fix your impediment later," she mused. "A great pity that you did not inform me of this before Solaufein's death, female. I should have been most interested to unleash you on him and observe the effect. No matter. Veldrin! You will have to suffice!"

Rasaad made a strangled noise in his throat, but Viconia looked wholly indifferent. She was far more concerned about competition for her male than having sex as a power play. It was a skill that she had made use of since fleeing to the surface, with several people including the Hero of Baldur's Gate.

"Fine female, but I hope you know what you are letting yourself in for," Veldrin boasted, in her best purr. It did not suit her current form. "The last woman I took to bed I left bound and gagged outside her commanders' meeting room, and she couldn't sit down comfortably for days after."

Phaere gawped at Veldrin as he confidently began to remove his clothes, pushing out the bosom he didn't have and slinking his hips suggestively. When he gave his bum a sexy little wriggle, the other drow decided she'd had enough.

"How is it possible that you have survived this long without being murdered, male?" she marvelled. "Forget it! Put your clothes back on, I have changed my mind!"

"Perhaps I could be of assistance?" volunteered Sarevok. It had been a very long time since he'd been intimate with a woman. Unless you counted Freya's muzzle buried in his entrails as intimate.

"You?" Phaere fumed. She scowled disappointedly. "Well, you're better than nothing I suppose. I begin to understand why a band with such exceptional fighting prowess has never gained any status until now. Come male. The rest of you can wait here. Listen and learn something."


They did listen, since they were left with no other option, but all they learned was that Phaere had a powerful set of lungs on her. Sarevok was of the opinion that she'd have been even louder if he'd had use of his real body, but he did his best with what was available.

"Thank you Arowan," Rasaad said stiffly. "I appreciate you extricating me from that situation."

"Don't mention it."

"I suppose I should thank you too," Viconia acknowledged.

Arowan waited to see whether or not the drow really would thank her. Predictably she didn't, but the ranger was incapable of finding it annoying. All she could think of was tomorrow and the next day and the next. A lifetime of dreary, colourless days alone stretching endlessly ahead of her.

Eventually it became apparent that Phaere had fallen asleep after her exertions in the bed chamber. The party made themselves as comfortable as they could on the floor and drifted off one by one. All except Arowan who stared blankly at the darkened ceiling. At some point she must have slept for she remembered waking, but it was long before the others. When they broke out their morning rations she took no food, until she noticed Jaheira looking worried. Then she forced down a few mouthfuls of bread, but it was just to humour her.

When Phaere emerged she did, at least, seem to be in a better mood.

"All love is foolish," she said wistfully. "Yes, there are other males in the world. I shall not regret Solaufein's demise."

There were some in the party who were not wholly convinced that she meant this, but it made no difference. Solaufein was long gone from Urst Natha and there was still the matter of the stolen eggs.

"It is time to introduce you to the matron mother of my house," Phaere proclaimed, as though she were announcing a free banquet. Mother Ardulace is anxious to meet the group who have done so much for Urst Natha. You will accompany me to the temple. Immediately."

Lolth's temple. Viconia had not set foot in one of these for what felt like an age, and as soon as she did the sense of the Spider Queen's presence overpowered her. She began to tremble. The cruel eyes of her former mistress bore down on her from every direction. Each one of her statues, and there were many for her vanity knew no limits, bored the red-brown stains of recent offerings.

Welcome back, little fly…

Viconia heard the voice of Lolth in her head. It was like the scuttling of thousands of spindly legs. Her chest constricted and it became hard to breathe, as though thick cobwebs were pressing over her mouth and nose. A feeling of overwhelming anxiety gripped at her heart and the room began to spin. She knew she was here! Of course she must. She was the Servant of all Faiths, Lolth always knew where she was, probably watching her every move. Waiting for her to fulfil her purpose so that she could come for her and wreak her vengeance.

"This is the group from Urst Natha I spoke to you about Matron Mother," Phaere was saying, though Viconia was barely listening.

"Yes, yes I can see them well enough," the poison-marred old drow croaked in her ruined voice. "Praise Lolth! The ritual may finally begin! Nothing must disrupt it. I shall seal the city, lest the silver one attempt desperate action. Our house shall rule Urst Natha without challenge."

An ambitious house. Ruthless and strong! I shall have to destroy them now, solely to preserve you Viconia, you treacherous little wasp.

Viconia slipped to the back of the group, in the hopes that the real drow would not notice her shaking hands and rapid breathing. She had slain so many in temples such as this. It had been on one of those altars that she had refused to sacrifice a baby human, only to watch him die anyway and lose everything. Part of her wished she had refused the very first time they'd put the dagger in her hands. She had been only eight then, and perhaps not the Chosen One yet. Doubtless she would have died herself. Perhaps it was not such a regret after all. Lolth found her terror thoroughly entertaining and sent the sensation of spiders crawling up her neck to torment her further

Know that this latest malefaction will be added to your tab… but fear not. You will have eternity in the Demonweb Pits to pay off the debt you owe me. How you must fear that day…

At that moment Viconia began to sob violent, silent tears into Rasaad's back. The monk stiffened in alarm, but Ardulace was too preoccupied to care. She was decanting the blood of the fish-prince that Phaere had brought her into a basin along with other herbs and potions. Three handmaidens lifted it carefully and carried it into a ritual room. The matron mother followed grimly and slammed the door.

Phaere led them off into a side room. A handmaiden stood to her feet when she saw them enter. Faster than a pouncing fox, the matron mother's daughter fell upon her and slit her throat. She bundled the dead priestess into a closet ignoring the blood (there was so much of it in this place nobody would notice a little more). The matron mother's daughter turned to them, eyes dancing with excitement.

"I had a dream last night after I was done with your male," she gloated. "A vision from Lolth herself. She showed me that this is her favoured house, but I am the one chosen to lead it, not mother! In my dream, I saw you swapping the silver dragon eggs with fakes. It seemed impossible, for how does one fake a dragon egg well enough to deceive the Handmaidens of Lolth in their own temple? But behold! I woke with these beneath my pillow and I saw that my dream was true."

She smiled and presented Lolth's gift to the party. There were seven fake eggs in all. Each one was a translucent silver and curled within they could just make out the shadows of dragon embryos. They were heavy and warm to the touch. Split between the party they could conceal them without difficulty.

"Go to the temple treasury," Phaere smiled. "Steal the dragon's eggs and replace them with these replicas. They will not be able to tell the difference, not when these were the gift of the goddess herself! You will then bring the real eggs to me. Matron will offer the demon the fake eggs and be killed. Then I shall offer him the real ones. The ritual shall be completed and I will be matron mother, and lead our house to victory against the darthiir!"

"Phaere!"

Somebody was calling for her out in the temple. Phaere shuddered at the voice and stroked her long fingers over the freckle-like scars on her face. She fumbled in her pocket and pulled out a steel key with eight prongs at the end.

"I have to go," she whispered. "Mother needs me to help her with the ritual. Here, take the treasury key and make the switch! Bring the eggs to me!"

She hurried away, not daring to disobey the handmaidens, but eagerly plotting some retribution on those who had tortured her over Solaufein. Her former-lover's death had brought her no real peace of mind, but perhaps revenge on the ones who broke her might.

"It is a shame that Yoshimo is dead," noted Viconia casually. "Having a thief around would have been useful at this juncture."

She said it in a tone that suggested that he had been inconsiderate to die and deprive them of his skill and expertise. A fury erupted in Arowan as though her insides had burst into flame. The drow caught the look on her face and summoned her flaming sword almost as a reflex.

"What are you two doing?" Anomen asked them in an angry whisper. "Are you trying to get us all killed?"

"We have an opportunity to retrieve the dragon's eggs," Dorn concurred in an urgent growl. "I suggest you put aside your animosity for a more appropriate occasion."

Mutual disdain plastered over both of their faces, the two women backed down. Rasaad and Jaheira made a point of always walking between them for the rest of the mission. It turned out to be surprisingly straightforward. The treasury guards had all had visions from Lolth, accompanied by petrifying threats as to what would happen if any harm befell the party. As they saw them coming, each drow found an excuse to absent herself from guard duty, expressed the urge to answer a call of nature or pretended to fall asleep. One even popped her fingers into her ears and hummed loudly as a last resort.

There were some golems guarding the eggs. If they were destroyed then Ardulace would know that the room had been tampered with. Rasaad, as the fastest, was tasked with running in to make the switch. He placed the fakes down first, but as soon as he gathered up the real eggs, the golems activated.

These were stone constructions, not so huge as Firkraag's tin soldiers, but much more dangerous than the one belonging to the Umar Hills wizard. Luckily they were also slow. Rasaad was able to outpace all but the two nearest the exit. He ducked under one swinging rock fist, then vaulted over another, skidding to a halt outside the door. Jaheira slammed it shut, but the golems were pushing from the other side. Dorn, Anomen and Sarevok all threw their weight against it and between them managed to press it closed long enough for Viconia to turn the key in the latch.

Lolth's guard continued to turn a blind eye. In the side room, Phaere had returned and was awaiting them eagerly.

The city will remain sealed while the matron mother lives. You must give Phaere the real eggs for the time being but slaughter her before she can offer them to the demon.

Why, Viconia wondered, did Lolth not simply do it herself? Or just teleport the dragon eggs back to their mother's lair?

Insolent creature to question the gods! Silver dragons have a sort of divinity of their own and were these eggs to be touched by the power of an evilly aligned goddess they would become tainted in Adalon's eyes. As for slaying Ardulace, had she ever shown weakness or strayed from my path I might have done just that! Yet she is a real drow, a true follower whose heart belongs to the Spider Queen as it should! Slaying my own follower at the very moment she means to sacrifice an entire elfin city in my name? Even the gods have rules!

For that matter, why not just smite the Great Evil here and now? It was a defiant spark in Viconia's mind, despite the god-terror that was filling her in Lolth's presence. In fact she was starting to find the presence of gods, while still petrifying, was losing its sting.

That, Servant of all Faiths, is a very complex matter.

Was it her imagination, or did Lolth herself sound uneasy? Viconia did not have time to dwell on it. Phaere was busily concealing the eggs about her person, though it meant she had to walk quite stiffly. In the depths of the temple, a gong rang, and Ardulace emerged from the ritual room. She demanded the key from her smiling daughter and headed for the treasury, emerging minutes later with the false eggs in her arms. None of the guards warned her, not daring to disobey a direct instruction from Lolth.

They followed her into the ritual room, along with the handmaidens and the guards. Nobody dared to breathe as Ardulace poured her blood potion into a ritual pit of burning embers, chanting in a dark tongue which sounded like an archaic form of drow. The fire flared and tongues of flame licked the ceiling, impossibly hot. Her followers, who were used to the cool gloom of the Underdark, flinched away from it.

A horrible snarl emerged from the flame and standing before them was a Demon Lord. He was smaller than Belhifet had been, but with the same cloven hooves and thrashing tail. Viconia squeezed her eyes shut, and Rasaad felt her hand tighten over his. He pulled her close and held her, for it hardly mattered at this point whether or not they made convincing drow.

"I HAVE COME!" the demon groaned, nostrils snorting umber smoke. "YOU HAVE WRESTED ME FROM MY PLANE ELFLINGS. HAVE GOOD REASON, OR I SHALL CLAIM MY PRICE IN ELFLING BLOOD!"

"I have good reason, Lord of the Nether Pits!" Ardulace cried. "I beseech you to aid the drow in the war against our hated surface cousins, to carve their pale flesh!"

"AND WHAT TITHE WOULD YOU OFFER ME FOR SUCH A DEED?"

Ardulace held out the fake eggs. The demon lord sniffed at them, then struck them out of her hands. They smashed against the wall of the ritual room, bursting to leave fake baby dragons shivering in a pool of silver goo.

"FOOLISH ELFLING! DID YOU THINK THAT I WOULD BE FLUMOXED BY SUCH A CRUDE DECEPTION?"

A pillar of flame, white hot and too bright to look at, engulfed the matron mother. It was so fast that she could not even scream. Before she could be dragged into hell, Lolth caught Ardulace's soul, finding it worthy of a place in the Demonweb Pits. Another loss to add to her list of grievances against Viconia DeVir.

"HOW DARE YOU CALL ME FORTH?" the demon thundered. "HOW DARE YOU TEMPT ME WITH DRAGON EGGS AND THEN DECIEVE ME! I SHALL BURN THIS CITY TO THE GROUND!"

"There!" Dorn cried suddenly, pointing Rancor at the demon. "This is the one! The Great Evil who will destroy Urst Natha. Quickly, Servant of all Faiths, destroy it as is your destiny!"

The party hesitated, for Dorn had once tried to slay the Servant of all Faiths on his master's orders and made no secret of the fact that he looked forward to the coming cull. Encouraging Viconia to fulfil her destiny did not quite stack with all of this. Yet the room was getting hotter as the demon summoned his fury. Was this some sort of elaborate double-bluff? It didn't seem the Blackguard's style but…

Before Phaere could speak, Rancor sliced through her neck. With a yell, Sarevok raced forward and caught the body before the eggs could hit the floor. There was so much blood. It brought back a memory that wrenched at his guts. The memory of the Hero of Baldur's Gate kicking down the door to his own temple, and behind her Tamoko's headless body lying forlornly on the step. It had affected him in a way he never expected it to. The sudden, stark knowledge that nothing he could do would ever bring her back. Except, perhaps ascension, but even then they would be separated forever.

This time when Lolth came to claim her follower's soul the demon beat her to it, but Dorn hacked his hand off. This was only a lesser Demon Lord and no match for the power of his patron. The unlucky hell-fiend howled in pain and unholy fury, but the half-orc merely laughed.

"No, this one is not for either of you," Dorn said in a low voice. He felt Ur-Gothoz's pleasure through the blade. The first soldier in his new army of souls had at last been harvested.

Arowan blanched. She had not liked Phaere, but from what Solaufein described she had not always been this way. At some point in the past, the Handmaidens of Lolth had tortured her into the ruthless psychopath she eventually became. An eternity in hell seemed too high a price to pay for a fate which was ultimately not her fault. She prayed silently to Ilmater that he might forgive her, but as always she heard no response. It seemed that the drow was destined to join Ur Gothoz.

Thus passes a real drow.

Lolth's voice echoed spitefully in Viconia's head. There was a demon in front of her. Either would drag her into eternal torment if she lost this battle. The gods might protect her from many things, but demons were not in their direct power to control. Viconia resolved not to lose.