They said that at the center of every web dwelt a spider. For Valyne, once of House Duskryn, once of Menzoberranzan, that web stretched throughout what the Sword Coast considered a city of splendors and outward down the country roads into the courts of nobles human and elven alike. Even, people whispered, into the orcs' clans and giants' caves. Of the woman herself, very little could be ascertained. She was an elf, a human, a half-elf, a tiefling, a different thing with every new person that was questioned-her appearance changed like the phases of an inconstant moon. The only universal thing to be expected was that she would be wearing her mask, a simple white face adorned with gray arcane markings that concealed from scrying and detection magic. Paladins in particular hated it, unable to sense anything of her nature.

But she didn't wear it here, in her own quarters. "Privacy is an expensive luxury, sweet thing," her succubus companion commented dryly as she looked over a summary of expenses, mostly bribes, lounging on the bed as if it were her own. Malcanthet was a valuable asset and one of the few she could rely on to perform even the most morally reprehensible tasks without even a flicker of conscience. She was also the only person now in Val's life who knew what she really looked like. "You have visitors downstairs."

"They can wait a little longer," Val said as she studied her face critically in the mirror. Her magical disguises had improved a hundred fold in exile and today she was wearing her favorite half-elven face, pale skin and brown hair with her native soft features and full lips. The gray eyes remained another constant. "And it's worth it to not have people asking too many questions."

Malcanthet's smile was as inscrutable as always. She swept her crimson hair back out of her face with a clawed hand and twitched her sinuous tail. The taint of the demonic was unmistakable in Valyne's aura once the mask came off. It made the succubus feel almost proud of her former pupil, since the girl-Val would always be a child to her with barely anything compared to her own millennia of life-had finally abandoned most of her moral qualms out of necessity.

"Ten years to the day," the succubus said instead, winking when a steely glare was tossed her way. "Do you miss it?"

"I have what I want."

"Liar," Malcanthet teased, springing up in one smooth motion. She moved to stand behind her summoner, running her hands up Val's arms. "You want to walk around as yourself. And let's not forget the revenge. Oh, the revenge." She sighed almost wistfully. "So much power you've accumulated, sweet thing, but for what purpose? It's not enough to just have it. It will never be enough. Not until you can demonstrate it in front of your mother by ripping out the hearts of those charming people that tore that life away from you."

Val swatted her away and picked up the mask from where it was lying on the table. "I have guests."

"They can wait a little longer," the demon countered. She enjoyed twisting the words of others back onto themselves for her own purposes. Abyssal habits were arguably the hardest to break, not that she would ever want to.

The spellcaster's eyes narrowed slightly. It was a familiar dance, one that she had memorized the steps to over the last year. Malcanthet would push and she would shove back. The succubus would tempt her with detailed renditions of murder that appealed to her inner darkness and she would curtly bring up the fact that she didn't have the resources to attempt anything on that scale. "Are you trying to infuriate me?" she said lowly, skipping straight to the end of the pattern. Despite herself, there was a hint of an unnatural, guttural growl in Val's tone.

"Mmm. I love it when you use that voice," the succubus purred. "Reminds me of your father."

"You never did tell me much about him, but I'll take it as a compliment anyway. Now, can you handle the paladin of Torm who was asking questions?"

"I adore holy men, you know that," Malcanthet said with a smile that even touched the corners of her blank white eyes. "Corrupting them, anyway."

"You're a credit to your kind," Val said dryly, putting on the mask. She felt the familiar warmth of her enchantments spread across her skin. It added yet another layer of protection to her disguise. The surface world would not be kind to her if they knew that she was drow, even less so if they knew about the shrine to Lloth she still kept beneath the estate that was her current home. "I'd rather have him dead than following you around drooling, Malcanthet. It would draw too much attention. And that's not even counting the puddles."

"So cruel," the succubus complained, covering her heart with one clawed, elegant hand. "But it suits you, Lady Val. Enjoy your guests. I'm sure I can find some way to amuse myself until you return."

Val narrowed her burnished steel eyes, knowing that it was the only sign of disapproval that would be easily visible. "Leave the guards alone. They have a job to do. And whatever you do, keep it off my bed," she warned before stepping out.

Malcanthet grinned. Her little drowess knew her too well. But she'd omitted the staff from her forbidding and there was plenty of space besides the bed. She loved the Material Plane: never a shortage of willing victims.

Downstairs, Galen shifted in his armor and rubbed the holy symbol of Torm worked into his breastplate for comfort. It was a nervous habit that he'd tried to crush all throughout his training as a paladin, with moderate success. His half sister rocked on her heels next to him, looking restless as well as fascinated with her surroundings. As a rogue, Cessair never seemed to tire of pretty things, particularly those she could potentially take. Their little group had been left to wait for almost a half hour now. It was as if their host somehow knew how uncomfortable it would make them all.

"Ye sure we shoulda gone here?" the dwarf beside him growled, tugging on one of the braids in his beard. "Yer brother's been lookin' inta the woman for a month and a half now."

"And he didn't turn up anything that bad," Cessair said with a wave of her hand, beaming down at the disgruntled warrior. She was blond and blue-eyed, heavily favoring her elven father's side. "We need someone who knows the Underdark and can fight worth a damn."

Galen sighed. They'd fought about it for days, but his sister was obsessed with the idea of this venture. An elven relic lost in the same raid where her father had died to be somehow mysteriously reclaimed from wherever the drow had taken it. He almost shuddered at that thought-he'd heard horror stories about the dark elves from some of Corellon Larethian's followers. But Cessair hadn't let it go, as if this would somehow make up for a lifetime of being picked on for her elven nature without her father around to defend her. And so, like the protective brother he was, he'd refused to let her go alone. As much as he liked to think she was streetwise enough to never do anything so ridiculous, he knew she probably would run off by herself if he hadn't insisted otherwise. Storunn had been equally stubborn about not allowing them into the depths without him. The paladin knew he would be forever grateful to the dwarf for that.

And all this had brought them to the doorstep of Lady Val Selonna, the same half elf that he'd spent all this time investigating. For the most part he'd come up completely empty handed except for rumors. Supposedly, she was a woman who dealt in intangibles: information and power, pleasure and pain. He couldn't confirm that she'd done anything illegal, but she certainly had friends who did on a regular basis. He wasn't one to spend too much time distinguishing between an assassin or a spy and a woman who facilitated for assassins and spies. However, she also had a lot of friends in prominent places that were always too happy to make little problems like investigations vanish.

Life could never be simple. So of course this particular viper just happened to have the kind of information that they needed. At least Cessair had understood when he begged her not to trust this woman.

"Matuk's coming back with someone," his sister reported, her ears much keener than his own. She'd turned her charm on the half orc steward full force in an effort to get them an introduction. Galen wasn't certain that Cessair was the servant's friend, but they were at least on good terms. It was a half-human bonding thing, from what he could determine.

"...think a simple 'no' would suffice. I appreciate you bringing it to my attention, Matuk. If he harasses your betrothed again, his head will be forcibly parted from his shoulders. You are, of course, free to pass that on to him," an unmistakably female voice said, approaching down one of the hallways. Galen felt himself shiver slightly at the smoky quality it had, combined with a definitely foreign accent that he couldn't place. He had a feeling that if the speaker read off a list of groceries he would find it fascinating.

Cessair and Storunn both straightened up beside him as their host stepped through the door just ahead of the tall half-orc who had greeted them at the doors. Val was not as tall as he had expected, but she moved with an effortless ease that Galen hadn't expected from an arcanist. He couldn't read anything from her either magically or mundanely with that mask on, but he almost flinched when the gray eyes focused on him with an unwavering intensity.

"Ah, I see Torm's paladins have finally decided to grace me with their presence rather than skulking around and frightening the maids on errands," Val said casually. Her displeasure was felt rather than overtly stated, a chill lingering long after her words had faded. When she'd been exiled, it had also freed her from the shadows of her older sisters. Here in her own domain she was every inch a Matron's daughter, commanding a room with sheer presence.

"Actually, that's not why I'm here," Galen said awkwardly. He still felt guilty that he'd shaken up that poor girl so badly. He'd lost his temper and forgotten how intimidating he could be when he raised his voice. "Cessair?"

His half sister cleared her throat, nerves finally showing themselves now. "We need your help," she said without real preamble. "My brother isn't here to cause you any problems."

"I see." Even with the mask on, he could almost sense the eyebrow begin to rise incrementally. "I assume that you are aware my expertise is not, in fact, free."

Cessair smiled and held up a small silver token engraved with a spider and a particular arcane glyph. "Duncan said you'd be good for this," she said, producing it. "Favor token or something, right? You owed him, now you owe us. A big favor, too."

Val fought the urge to curse, knowing that her scowl was hidden behind the mask. Duncan, a human rogue affiliated with the local theives' guild, had saved her life in Luskan during a back alley battle going particularly badly. She'd expected him to call in the favor someday, but never that he'd give it up to someone else. Apparently the half elf girl had some...colorful friends. Strange that she'd associate with a paladin. "You have my attention," she said evenly. "What can I do for you?"

"We need help finding something in the Underdark," Cessair said with a vague wave of one hand. "Duncan vouched for you in a fight and rumor has it you know the Night Beneath better than anyone else in the Sword Coast except maybe Do'Urden. And, you know, he probably wouldn't want to go where we're going. Menzoberranzan, in case you were wondering."

Galen realized his sister had said something wrong when the masked woman went deathly still. He wasn't positive, but he thought she might have stopped breathing.

As soon as she heard the name of her home spoken, Val was blindsided by ten years worth of homesickness. It felt like a planar gate had opened up in her chest beneath her heart and allowed that organ to plummet straight into the Abyss. Her eyes burned and her vision blurred as tears threatened to fall. Malcanthet was right, damn her eyes: she wasn't happy like this. "Menzoberranzan?" she breathed, the word like a prayer, like a fragment of a dream.

"Yeah," Cessair said. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, well aware that she'd just stumbled inadvertently into something sensitive. She couldn't tell if the arcanist had very fond memories or very unpleasant memories of the place or both. "Will that be a problem?"

Val examined her fingernails for a long moment, blinking back the tears as she pushed back all those emotions. After dealing with the demonic urges which had become almost overpowering with her binding, her heart seemed a fairly easy foe to ward off for at least a time. "That depends on what you would like me to help you fetch, does it not?"

"A sword," the half-elf rogue explained, her blue eyes earnest. "A holy weapon of Corellon that was lost to the depths when drow attacked the temple."

What are the odds? Val reflected, forcing herself not to react. As far as she knew there was only one sword like that in Menzoberranzan and she'd been the one to claim it, the one to dedicate it to Lloth. "Well, the divine do have a sense of humor," she commented out loud. Perhaps this was a sign from the Goddess that it was time to come home, that she was ready even if she didn't think she was. Certainly she'd come a long, long ways since she'd been abandoned in the wilds of the Underdark with only a slim dagger. "May I inquire as to why you seek it?"

"Her father was a paladin of Corellon killed by the drow," Storunn said gruffly, moving forward like he was going to somehow try and shelter the rogue from their host. "Are ye gonna help or not?"

The disguised drowess considered her position carefully. If she refused, word would get out that she didn't pay her debts or honor her favors and that would put her in a world of hurt. But if she agreed, that meant walking into her home city with blood enemies and abandoning everything she'd built here. That said, it also meant walking into her home again.

Cessair gripped the little token tighter, offering up silent prayers to any god or goddess listening in the hopes that they could sway the masked woman to her side.

"I will have to make arrangements," Val said finally. She couldn't just drop everything in case she needed her hiding place to come back to. "I have business here that cannot simply be abandoned."

"You'll help?" Galen said, surprised. He had only half listened to his friends while he stared at the enigma in front of him and tried to puzzle out what was hidden behind that mask.

Again those gray eyes focused on him, this time almost amused. "I honor my debts, paladin. I'm certain you are somewhat familiar with the concept," Val said steadily. Malcanthet could be trusted enough to handle things, though perhaps a bit too zealously. That was a problem for Waterdeep's populace to guard themselves against. "Three days. I suggest you make certain that you have all the supplies you will need."

Val knew she would probably regret this, but she couldn't help feeling as though a weight had lifted. She was finally going home.