Chapter 2: The Council of Eight

The Matron Mothers of six of Menzoberranzan's Noble Houses sat around a small table in the sealed chapel of Barrison Del'Armgo, Second House of Menzoberranzan. These Matron Mothers met regularly, known as the Council of Eight, yet this day two houses were excluded from their number, and for this reason they met in the chapel of the Second House, rather than that of the First House. Matron Fey-Branche, newly appointed to the Council was doing her utmost to conceal her nerves. This secret meeting was her first, the loss of House Faen Tlabbar, now No House Worth Mentioning, so recent, and her own ascension to the Council along with it. Matron Del'Armgo was nervous too, but her nerves were sealed far behind the strong mental walls requisite for the second most powerful drow elf in all of Menzoberranzan. Directly to her right sat Matron Oblodra of the Third House, casting a suspicious stare at all around her, and receiving equal suspicion in return, especially from Matron Xorlarrin of the Fourth House, her long-time rival. The matrons of Agrach Dyrr and Mizzrym, the Fifth and Sixth Houses respectively, sat close together and murmured quietly as they waited. These six drow females held the fate of the city in their hands, and none among them wanted to rush proceedings today. Just figuring out a way to meet secretly in a city where eyes and ears were everywhere, and betrayals were more common than loyalty, had been a miracle of planning and preparation. In Menzoberranzan only House Baenre could act openly, and it was expected that even the simplest of tasks would be hidden under at least a layer or two of misdirection. Sufficient layers of misdirection to cover a meeting of three quarters of Menzoberranzan's ruling council had taken great feats of legerdemain and deception.

Eventually, Mez'Barris Armgo, Matron Mother of Barrison Del'Armgo, Second House of Menzoberranzan, spoke. A tall, powerful female, approaching her last few centuries of life, her voice reverberated from the chapel walls. "Berg'inyon Baenre was seen in the Do'Urden compound on the night that Faen Tlabbar became No House Worth Mentioning. I have testimony from a variety of sources on this matter. The previous day, many of our most promising graduates of Melee-Magthere were found dead, killed in an ambush outside the city. Most remain dead, yet a small number were also seen in the Do'Urden compound that night. We do not speak openly of such things in Menzoberranzan, and they are usually overlooked if the feat is accomplished before anyone takes notice. But this concerns me. Matron Malice and Matron Baenre may be dangerous to the balance of this city, my sisters. It has not passed any one of us by that we have had three of our own members removed from our ranks in the past half century, and three new added, including Daermon N'a'shezbaernon. I ask your thoughts on this matter, that we might avoid any more losses at the hands of Malice's ambition and Baenre's conceit."

Matron Auro'pol Dyrr, of the Fifth House, spoke quietly into the silence following Mez'Bariss' pronouncement. As she folded her hands on the table in front of her, animated embroidery spiders danced on the sleeves of her robe. "Finally seeing the pitfalls of relying only on your own house, Mez'Barris?" Then, louder, she continued, "and yet who among us does not remember your own rapid elevation to this council, barely a century past, and it cannot be said that Matron Baenre never called Mez'Barris Armgo to visit with her in private. The fears of Barrison Del'Armgo are not the fears of this council, Mez'Barris." Auro'pol noted the small smirk on the face of the matron sitting opposite her - it was no secret that K'yorl Odran wanted Mez'Barris knocked out of that spot, as the Matron of the Third House felt it was hers by right, but House Barrison Del'Armgo had been raised to Second House instead, directly from Sixteenth. Auro'pol knew better than to overlook the small, plain psionicist, possibly the most dangerous individual drow elf in all of FaerČ—n.

Halavin Fey-Branche continued to watch on in silence as the five other Matron Mothers talked. Dry comments and veiled insults abounded, with references to events unfamiliar to Halavin. The elderly Matron of the Eighth House had witnessed more of Menzoberranzan's history than any of the others, but in the secret histories of Menzoberranzan's Ruling Council of Eight, and in the relationships between its members, she was a true neophyte. Eventually the meeting petered out, with every Matron Mother looking at the same time both satisfied and disgruntled with the outcome, whatever it was. To Halavin it seemed no decision had been made, nor any deals, trades or alliances. Yet at some unspoken moment the other five seemed to declare business concluded, pushing back their chairs in unison and standing to withdraw.

Mez'Barris Armgo was much more fluent in the unspoken language of the Council, a step of concealment of intention beyond even the ordinary misdirection that was a fact of life in Menzoberranzan. Veteran of over a century on the Council of Eight, though still one of the junior members in age if not in status, the outcome of the meeting was clear. Barrison Del'Armgo were on their own if they wished to take aim at House Daermon N'a'shezbaernon or House Baenre, and the Council would not support them, neither would the individual Houses represented. However, and this was the cause of Mez'Barris' smirk as she settled into her throne, having left the chapel behind, it was clear, though unspoken, that every Matron Mother who had been in the meeting would be investigating very carefully any weaknesses of the First House and the Seventh House. All to the benefit of House Barrison Del'Armgo.


Scimitars whirled in the Weapons Hall of House Do'Urden, rhythm interrupted in staccato clangs as a pair of longswords were interposed into their paths. Again and again patterns built up and broke down, adamantine blades speeding with vicious force as Drizzt Do'Urden battled valiantly against Zaknafein Do'Urden, Weapon Master of House Do'Urden and previously undisputed premier swordsman of Menzoberranzan. Blades met once again, then Zaknafein disengaged with a slight flourish and stepped away, sheathing his twin swords and retrieving a towel to dry the sweat from his forehead. "It won't be long until you surpass me," the elder drow commented, a hint of pride in his voice as he gazed at his opponent, a young warrior barely out of his adolescence, violet eyes flaming in the infrared spectrum of drow darkvision.

"Some time yet, perhaps, Zaknafein," spoke a light female voice from the entryway, "Maya says you're still not fully fighting fit, although I daresay you could still defeat any opponent in Menzoberranzan not named Drizzt. It might behoove you to learn not to charge directly into the path of a wizard's lightning bolt in future also, however good an idea it might seem at the time." Vierna stepped into the room and closed the heavy door behind her, receiving a good-humored grin in return from Zaknafein, and a smile from Drizzt. She stepped quickly across the room to Zaknafein and muttered a quick healing cantrip, relieving his weariness from the practice bout. "Matron Malice wants to see you both in the throne room," the high priestess continued, before pausing to sniff the air dramatically. "Although, I suggest you bathe first."

Zaknafein groaned and strode off towards his quarters, already beginning to disrobe, but Drizzt just looked at Vierna expectantly. "Aren't you going to heal my tiredness too?" he asked cheekily, pushing the very limits of correct drow behaviour. With this older sister, Drizzt could get away with a little bit of familiarity, despite the low station of a male in drow society, but had he tried it with Briza or Maya, he would have found himself in a world of pain from their many-headed snake whips.

Fortunately, Vierrna took it in good humour and stepped closer, lowering her voice as she spoke quietly into his ear. "Come to my chambers later," she said, "and I'll see what I can do about relieving you." With that, she stepped back, spun on her heel, and sashayed out of the Weapons Hall. Drizzt sighed and began to stretch out his wearied muscles before heading off to bathe.

Before too long Drizzt and Zaknafein were standing in the throne room before a rejuvenated Matron Malice. She had never shown any weariness, but the days after the battle she had only made public appearances in brief spells, and only for long enough to accomplish the business at hand. Now her red eyes gleamed as she dealt with the business of her court. Drizzt and Zaknafein were made to wait for some time as she consulted with a variety of commoners on matters of business and house finances, but once the monotonous dealings were completed, Malice motioned the two males forward, and dismissed all the other drow still in the room.

Matron Malice reclined in her seat as the great doors sealed shut. "Drizzt," she purred, "Zaknafein. My two most faithful warriors. I have tasks for you. Zaknafein, Dinin has done a barely adequate job of keeping up the standards of our soldiers while you were on your journey with Jarlaxle. Now we have lost many drow warriors in the fighting, and we must not be vulnerable. It has been too long since our Weapon Master has put his undivided attention to the soldiery, for even before your little trip, you spent much of your time on Drizzt's education." Drizzt sensed that Zaknafein was disappointed, but the elder drow said nothing, and no twitch or facial expression gave any insight into his thoughts.

"And Drizzt," Matron Malice continued, "you have exceeded all expectations," and at this Zaknafein broke his mask and gave a humorous snort, "except those of our esteemed Weapon Master," Malice added wryly, "who assured me that you would be the greatest warrior in Menzoberranzan by the age of fifty. Although by Vierna's estimate you cannot be far away, and you have some years yet to reach that mark.

"Regardless, there can only be one Weapon Master of House Do'Urden, and that role is already filled. So I will employ your talents towards some of our house's more, sensitive, tasks." The powerful matron gestured towards the door. "Zaknafein, you may leave us now, I would talk with the thirdboy in private." To his credit, Zaknafein only hesitated a moment before exiting, casting one wary glance back at his protege. Then Drizzt and Malice were alone in the room.

"What do you know of our situation?" Malice questioned.

Drizzt blinked, surprised. Never had Malice spoken to him in such a way, prompting him to speak as though his knowledge was valuable and his input desired. Quickly, he began to recite the facts he thought most relevant, and most likely to be what Malice desired. "We are the Seventh House in Menzoberranzan, with forces numbering in the low three hundreds of warriors, over three score wizards of varying ability, and around two hundred and fifty priestesses, including three high priestesses and one soon to be." The dangers inherent in becoming a priestess of Lloth led to a great many deaths in training, and a far higher male population than female in Menzoberranzan, impressive given the vast danger of being a drow warrior in the Underdark. "This places us well below the two largest houses, Baenre and Barrison Del'Armgo, both of which can call upon more than a thousand warriors alone, but no lower than tenth in terms of numbers in Menzoberranzan. Our soldiers are also better trained than most, our compound well defended, and our nobles among the most powerful and well-situated in the city. In terms of political strength, we may only be behind the first two houses. We have no declared enemies, and House Baenre are supportive of us, if not openly. Our relationship with Bregan D'Aerthe could be considered better than most."
Malice nodded approvingly. "This is all correct, and a fair assessment, given limited knowledge of our enemies' own strength. But you failed to mention two things, and these are the most crucial to our survival. Firstly, we have risen quickly. You do not remember when Do'Urden were Tenth House, for we became Ninth House on the night of your birth, but to rise from Tenth House to Seventh House in barely more than three decades is an achievement that will draw many unfriendly eyes. All six houses above us will look down in trepidation, and most would choose to strike first if they felt sufficiently threatened. And though we are strongly in Lloth's favour now, for an ambitious house below us, we may seem an easier target, weakened by decades of strife. And those who defeat a house in Lloth's favour tend to find themselves become even more in Lloth's favour.

"Secondly, you did not consider our finances. We are strong, but we will not remain that way if we cannot afford slaves for the kitchen, components for the wizards, arms and armour for the warriors, and sacrifices for Lloth. You are young yet, Drizzt, so you can be forgiven a lack of understanding of these matters," she explained, "but your adolescence is over now. You must be sword and shield for House Do'Urden. What say you now?"

Drizzt thought for a moment, considering the new information. "Our enemies will strike at our sources of income," he concluded aloud, "And our enemies are all houses between Baenre and Kenafin. No less than ten houses. Perhaps more."
Malice smiled her wicked smile. "So you see. And it shall be Drizzt who shall protect us from these foes." Drizzt's face must have given away some hint of uncertainty, for she continued, "not alone, no. You shall have support from those that we can spare. But the other nobles of the family have their own responsibilities. You may pick a small team from those commoners available, and I shall provide you what financial resources we can spare. Maya will stop by your quarters tomorrow to brief you on our assets and help you select your team. Now leave me," she commanded, and Drizzt did so, thoughts rocketing around his brain.


So preoccupied with his thoughts was Drizzt that he found himself walking into his own room adjacent to the Weapons Hall before remembering that Vierna had requested him to join her after his meeting with Matron Malice. And from a drow female, especially one of equal or higher rank, a request was never truly a request, but a command. Sighing deeply, he set his heel and turned back towards the door to make his way to Vierna's chambers, only to be stopped by a warm hand to his chest. Forcefully, Vierna pushed him back, then slipped inside the room and kicked the door shut with her heel. "You followed me?" Drizzt asked, fighting off the surprise. Vierna didn't reply, only flashed a predatory smile, then stepped in close and kissed him, one hand taking a rough grip of his flowing white hair, the other of his firm buttock.

"Shush," she replied. "We'll talk later."