Gromph shelved the book and shook his head. The girl was stubborn and spoiled, and he would have to make sure that she understood he didn't tolerate that sort of behavior from any of his apprentices. Hopefully, Jarlaxle would understand the seriousness of the need to train the girl and allow him to do what he needed to do to break her will. Gromph smiled as he imagined his brother trying to protect the little brat.
Jarlaxle had no experience with children, but Gromph had been down this road before. He hadn't raised his children in the way that some surfacer would, but he had sponsored and cultivated their talents until many of them were quite successful. Three of his daughters were matron mothers of minor houses, while several of his sons held significant ranks within the Academy of Sorcere. Many of them didn't know their parentage, but he would see his own blood thrive, if only to stroke his own ego.
And so Gromph knew what was necessary to help this unexpected niece to reach her true potential.
Well, he would try not to be too harsh on her at first. She'd been treated differently from most of his apprentices who were males and had never experienced the special treatment and privileges that drow females did. Perhaps if she had a female tutor at first she would be more likely to listen. There were several women in the Hosttower of the Arcane who were qualified to give a child basic instruction, but none of them were drow. Besides, he himself was intrigued by the girl and wanted to understand her power. He decided he would make time within his very busy schedule to give the girl her lessons. If she was as skilled as he suspected she was, then canceling a few of his plans here and there would be worth it in the end.
He thought back to what Jarlaxle had related to him about the girl. Already able to conjure fire. That was a simple spell but at her age it made her quite a prodigy. She had broken things with her mind before in a tantrum. But those were typical of young sorcerers during their awakenings. The only thing unusual about it was how early it was.
No, he thought, what makes her special is that this child is a seer. The girl herself had related to him about "Lolth's web" in which the "strings" of the web were connected to people and places and things. Of course Kesrith would interpret what she saw in a religious way. She had never been taught any different. But Gromph had heard of seers that reported their visions in a similar form, though none of them had saw it as a spider's web. Several of them had used the metaphor of a tapestry, with the threads being the elements subject to change the overall image. Thread-seers. That is what they were called, though Gromph was not fond of the name. It was an apt moniker, but a little too on the nose for Gromph's taste.
Gromph had originally been a diviner, a wizard specialized in the reading of the signs to predict future outcomes, though he now used those skills less often than he had in previous centuries. Tales of seers and prophecies were something he was no stranger to. And his studies had took him far and wide into any related phenomena. Arcane researchers had identified a number of individuals whose self-reported visions fit the criteria. They remained a rather obscure phenomenon, a footnote in various tomes on magical anomalies.
Mages from his own school of magic had speculated on the nature of seers like Kesrith for centuries, but few had had an opportunity to study them up close as they were exceedingly rare. Only those of elven blood were ever born that way. None were drow that he had ever found, but he suspected that they never lasted long enough to be noted by Sorcere. The last that he was aware of had been a half-elf that died seventy years ago. The man had been an adviser to a powerful politician in Calimport, and his constant meddling in local politics had ended in his assassination. Apparently, thred-seers weren't omniscient, otherwise he would have seen the blades coming for him.
He was probably too busy trying to manipulate the local politics.
Which was another hallmark of the thread-seer—an endless compulsion to manipulate those around them.
One he had read about - an elven woman who had been an archmage for a long-dead kingdom-had spoken about the need to change the threads once you saw them. That seeing the threads compelled one to pluck at them endlessly.
As someone specializing in divination, Gromph understood such impulses, though he had enough wisdom to keep them in check. Too much meddling had unforeseen consequences. The future was just too vast and endlessly faceted to know them all. Besides, knowing too much tended to attract exactly the wrong sort of attention. Even mere mortals were wary of those who could know their secrets, to say nothing of demons or entities like Lolth.
This ability doomed Kesrith. No matter how much her power was coveted by matrons and priestesses, eventually she would stumble upon information that someone powerful wanted hidden, and she would be killed.
Which was why he had no intention of ever letting her return to House Barrison del' Armgo. He would use this child to maintain his own position as master of the Hosttower, while using her insight to keep the status of House Baenre. A necessity in this troubled time when the enemies of his house allied themselves with the fanatical House Melarn. When Jarlaxle understood that danger his daughter was in, he would agree to allow Gromph to do what was necessary.
Mez'Barris Armgo must be livid right now. He smiled to himself at that and made his way past his spacious quarters in the interdimensional mansion which he had spelled to become part of the Hosttower. At the back of his bedroom was a small chamber that could only be entered by him through a magical panel in the wall. His dispelled the enchantment that hid the door by waving his hand over the runes. The panel slid open revealing a smallish room lined with several shelves containing rare and precious books. In the center was a couch covered in fine upholstery and a number of pillows. A simple teakwood table sat in front of it, the only thing on it's surface a single mirror painted completely black.
Gromph made himself comfortable on the couch and face the mirror. He thought of the things he was going to say, then began the incantation that would activate the device.
Soon he was greeted with the narrow face of his younger sister, Matron Mother Quenthel Baenre.
"Something amiss, Gromph?"
"Ah... dear sister."
She did not frown but her eyes pricked with irritation..
"I have business this day, dear brother."
"And I will not keep you long. How goes our wonderful city?"
An eyebrow shot up. His sister didn't trust him of course, but she would relay the goings on of Menzoberranzan in order to gain his advice. They hated each other and had tried to kill each other an numerous occasions, but they both cared for House Baenre's position at the top.
"Tensions are high. I have reason to believe that Mez'Barris Armgo is mobilizing... something. Her agents are all over the city, looking everywhere. We've found them even far out into the Underdark."
"And you have no motive for this sudden activity?"
Quenthel shook her head. "No doubt more insanity at the behest of House Melarn."
His sister couldn't keep the venom out of her voice when speaking that name.
She hesitated a moment, seeming unsure of whether to say anything, then she spoke.
"I have heard... rumors. The same rumor from different sources."
"And?" asked Gromph.
"Apparently, Mez'Barris has been interrogating anyone and everyone under the duress of torture over the disappearance of her beloved granddaughter."
"Is that so?" he asked keeping his voice light.
"Mez'Barris' chosen heir, if I am to believe my sources. Apparently, the fanatics believe the child is a chosen of Lolth."
"What do you believe?"
After a moment's pause, she spoke. "I know the girl that is being spoken about. I know that she is... unique. It might not be too far-fetched to believe that she is a Chosen." Quenthel pushed a an errant strand of white hair out of her face, a momentary discomfort playing over her features before her mask went back up. "Then again, there is no knowing the will of the Lady of Chaos."
This last sentence surprised even him. His sister had always been devout. But now, of late, her comments on the Spider Queen had been less reverent. From her tone she was doubtful somehow. Somehow less enthusiastic about her goddess than she had been. Something had changed in her. He noted it and filed this bit away for further exploration.
"Perhaps knowing more about this child would be advantageous to House Baenre," offered Gromph.
His sister gave him a considering look. "Perhaps. The situation was... unusual. Even for a yochlol..."
By the time that Quenthel had finished her tale, Gromph already had a plan. He couldn't deny that there was something disturbing about this situation, but he knew that a certain drow psionicist would be able to help him uncover the mystery.
After a moment's consideration he began casting the spell over the mirror again.