s he'd heard before； though in the past such things were said in tones of mockery or even cold； bitter irony by those dozen or more drow females who had had him。
Halisstra had simply smiled at him； held his gaze with hers； touched him； kissed him； looked at him with fear； longing； regret； pain； anger； desperation 。 。 。 looked at him with honesty。 Ryld had never seen any of it before； not on the black face of a dark elf； not in the cool gloom of the Underdark。 He could feel her when she was close； as if she gave off some ripple that tuned his senses to her。 She was simply Halisstra； and the Master of Melee…Magthere was dumbfounded to find that was enough。 Her mere presence was sufficient to drag him away from a life that was； and would continue to be； as rewarding as a drow male could expect。
There he was； putting up with the same things； still the male whose strong sword arm would be called into service on a second's notice but who would not dine at the same table。
The fourth reason that he was alone that day and had been alone for much of the day before roared into Ryld's mind then； and he let it e； but only for a moment。
They mean to kill her； he thought as a chill raced down his spine and the whetstone that had so slowly and so carefully and so rhythmically been drawn along his blade came to a sudden stop。 They mean to kill Lolth。
Ryld closed his eyes and drew in a long breath； calming his suddenly racing heart。
It was； after all； why Halisstra had been sent to retrieve the Crescent Blade。 It was why the Eilistraeen priestesses put up with the obviously unpleasant presence of the Master of Melee…Magthere…at Halisstra's demand。 It was why Halisstra stayed and why she carried herself with a confidence and posure he hadn't seen 。 。 。 well； never in the outcast from the ruins of Ched Nasad。 It was why Halisstra no longer trembled in fear。 It was why she woke in the morning and why she drew breath during the day。
In Eilistraee's name； Halisstra Melarn meant to murder the Queen of the Demonweb Pits in her sleep。
Ryld set the whetstone in motion again and smiled。
Maybe； he thought； she's more like a spider than she wants to admit。
Valas held the crystal to his left eye and scanned the chamber。 He stood in the deep shadows at the edge of where the tunnel…a very old lava tube…emptied into the pyramidal cavern。 The ancient monastery was obvious to even his unaided darkvision。 Set against the northern wall of the cathedral…like space off to Valas's right was a half circle of stone； perhaps seventy…five feet in radius。 The curved wall rose as tall as two hundred feet before rounding to a domed roof； with the apex about thirty or forty feet above that。 Two huge slit windows； not much wider than Valas was tall but eighty feet in length； were set high on the walls。 A thief might have to climb the brick wall for a dangerous hundred feet before being able to slip inside。 Between the two tall windows and a few feet below their bottom edges loomed a pair of small； dark holes tall enough that Valas might be able to step through them without dipping his head。 Below those round holes a drooping oblong opening led into the pitch…black interior of the ruin。
The windows； the two round holes； and the oblong opening gave the ruined monastery the look…obviously intentional…of a frowning face。
Stalactites had formed along the upper edge of the mouth and hung down to form ragged fangs； and dripping water had carried centuries of sediment onto the dome so that a wide patch of smooth white flowstone capped the far end of the great head like some gaily off…kilter hat。 What grim ceremonies might have been held before that giant face Valas didn't bother to imagine。 The centuries that had passed since his ancient ancestors had abandoned it had been unkind to the building； but Valas knew that the ravages of dripping water； mold； and earthquakes hadn't touched the gate that rested inside it。 Twice before； though many years gone by； Valas had climbed into that drooping； melancholy mouth and passed between two rune…carved pillars to step two hundred miles to the northwest shore of Lake Thalmiir； an easy walk to Sschindylryn。
Valas knew he wasn't the only one who'd used it。
A crystal normally hung on his vest…an enchanted garment that gave Valas much of his nimble footing and lightning reaction…with many other magical trinkets he'd picked up over a lifetime in the wilds of the Underdark。 Through that crystal the scout could see that which others couldn't…most things rendered invisible by magic either sorcerous or innate。
Valas slowly and carefully scanned the base of the great face； then to the left along the still pool of black water that bisected the round floor of the cavern。 There was a cave low in the sloping wall across from him and a smaller one…another lava tube of similar dimensions to the one Valas had e through…higher up and to the right。 The scout began to scan the roof of the ruined monastery when he heard Danifae all but stomping through the tunnel behind him。
Valas didn't stop his slow； methodical examination of the structure。
He knew chat Danifae would walk past him； their shoulders close to touching； and she would never see him。 He had told her to wait； and if she disregarded his warning it was her choice。
Let her stomp on in； he thought。 Let her…
Valas froze when the crystal revealed the tip of what could only be a talon resting on the top of the monastery。 Holding his breath； the Bregan D'aerthe scout drew his head back half an inch and played the crystal； still held close to his left eye； along the domed roof of the ancient face。
The creature that rested atop the ruin wasn't too big； at least not as far as dragons go。 No taller than Valas himself； with a wingspan maybe twice that； the beast was coiled fortably but alert atop the dome。 Though the crystal tended to bleed any color from the scene； Valas knew the monster was as gray in color as it appeared to him through the magic item。 Even through the crystal it seemed undefined； blurred as if it had been painted onto the giant face in watercolors。
That's how you hide； Valas thought。 You blend into the darkness。
Danifae passed him and strode uncaring to the mouth of the lava tube。 She stood for a moment； one hand resting casually on the rock wall； gazing out into the cavern。 Valas could tell she hadn't seen the dragon on the top of the face； but a last quick glimpse through the crystal showed him that the dragon had seen her。 It slowly uncoiled itself； drawing up its wings。
Valas slipped into the cavern； relying in no small part on his own training and experience but not too proud to call on the power of an enchanted ring to speed his way。 Mithral chain mail hushed any sound he might make as he moved； and it helped his toes find safe； quiet footing。 Keeping always in shadow； always without the slightest scrape of sole on stone； without the faintest reflection of stray light on metal； Valas came down the incline from the mouth of the lava tube and along the bowl…shaped edge of the huge space to the yawning black cave across。
He risked the occasional glance up at the creature； whose outline he could only barely discern in the gloom high up in the cavern…and only then because he knew it was there。 Valas also risked a glance or two back at Danifae； who was slowly； and with surprising grace； making her way down into the bowl of the cavern。 She looked all around but not up。 Her eyes never rested on either Valas or the stone…gray dragon。
Danifae walked slowly toward the edge of the pool as Valas drew the shortbow from his back。 He nocked an arrow and drew back the string。
The female was all but offering herself on a silver platter to the beast； and though Valas ached to allow her to see her folly through； he worried about Quenthel。 The high priestess seemed to have taken a liking to the Melarn battle…captive； stealing her away without a thought from the female from Ched Nasad。 Valas didn't want to find out the hard way that he'd let the battle…captive die when Quenthel had plans for Danifae beyond their occasional loveplay。
〃Valas？〃 the female called into the dark； still cavern。
Her voice echoed； Valas cringed； and the dragon took wing。
Nimor Imphraezl watched from above as the duergar engaged the spiders。 Drow warriors…all male…rode the enormous arachnids into battle。 The spiders skittered and whirled around them while the riders sat stiff and straight in their saddles。 The mounted drow carried long pikes…weapons the duergar were unaccustomed to； as rare as the long weapons were in the confines of the Underdark…and they skewered one after another before the gray dwarves drew any dark elf blood。
The spider riders were hopelessly outnumbered by the horde of duergar who continued to lay siege to the slowly crumbling city of Menzoberranzan； and Nimor was content to lose a few gray dwarves for the chance to watch the drow fight。 They were good； he would grant them that。 The spiders killed as many duergar as the pikes did； but the beasts were never out of their riders' control。 All in all it was a beautiful； bloody dance。
In the center of the spider riders a mounted drow male wearing armor of the finest mithral positively glowed with magic。 He carried a pike like the others but hadn't brought his to bear。 He held it up； and from it a long； thin banner wafted in the cool Underdark air。 It took Nimor a minute or so to recognize the sigil emblazoned on the banner。 The riders represented House Shobalar…a lesser House； but one loyal to the Baenres and known throughout the drow…settled Underdark for their effective and impeccably trained cavalry。 The dark elf with the banner must be their leader。
One of the riders took two duergar at once； pinning them together then using their weight at the end of his pike to topple three more of their panions onto the flowstone floor。 Nimor smiled。
He had e to that particular tunnel after hearing three separate times of unusual activity there。 The duergar had managed to kill a Menzoberranyr scout only a day before； and even the gruff gray dwarves had admitted that other drow had been there and gotten away。 It wasn't the most well defended approach； and Nimor had been keeping an eye on it； certain the Menzoberranyr would be testing it。
When the scout was killed； Nimor had Crown Prince Horgar send reinforcements； but only a few。 Enough； Nimor hoped； to satisfy the drow but not enough to close the approach。 Nimor wanted to draw them out； and like the arrogant aristocrats they were； they'd taken the bait。
Nimor hung upside down； hidden by a spell of invisibility； his piwafwi； another spell that prevented anyone using similar magic from finding him； and another that would draw enemies' attention away even if they thought to look up at him。 Those things and the immediate threat of the duergar soldiers were enough that he could wait and watch in peace…wait and watch for the spider rider captain to send his arachnid mount scurrying into the fray； scurrying right under Nimor。
With a touch to a brooch that bore the sign of the Jaezred Chaulssin；