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ch。 It was the last magical tool she'd crafted before everything turned to dung。
〃Oh； you would have returned；〃 she continued； 〃but only because your mothers would have sent you back or else killed you for shaming them。 They have sense enough to cleave to the sacred traditions of Menzoberranzan even if their degenerate offspring do not。
〃Your mothers wouldn't mind if I slaughtered you； either。 They'd thank me for wiping clean the honor of their Houses。 But Lolth desires new priestesses； and； despite all appearances to the contrary； it is remotely possible that one or two of you are worthy to serve。 Therefore I will give you one more chance。 You won't die today。 Instead you will sever a finger from each of your hands and burn them before the altar of the goddess to beg her fiveness。 I'll ring for a cleaver and a chopping block。〃
Quenthel surveyed their stricken faces； enjoying the sickly； shrinking fear。 She would enjoy watching the actual mutilations as well。 The most amusing part might be when a novice had already cut one hand； and had to employ it； throbbing and streaming blood； to maim the other 。 。 。。
〃No〃
Surprised by the outburst； Quenthel peered to see who had spoken。 The mass of wouldbe truants obliged her by dividing in the center； opening a lane to the willowy female standing in the back。 It was Drisinil Barrison Del'Armgo； she of the sharp nose and green eyes； whom Quenthel had from the first suspected of instigating the mass elopement。 Somehow the longlegged novice had smuggled a sizable dagger； more of a short sword really； into the disciplinary session。 She held it ready in a low guard。
Quenthel reacted as would any dark elf in the same situation。 She yearned to accept the challenge and kill the other female； felt the need like a sensual tension pressing for an explosive release。 Either responding to her surge of emotion or else themselves vexed by Drisinil's temerity； the whip vipers reared and hissed。
The problem was that； despite Quenthel's assertions to the contrary； the students were not altogether devoid of importance。 They were the raw but valuable ore sent to the Academy to be refined and hammered into useful implements。 No one would fret over a few amputated pinkies； but the matron mothers did expect that； for the most part； their children would survive their education； an assumption the idiot Mizzrym renegade had already called into question。 True； Pharaun had only lost males； but still； by any sensible reckoning； he had used up the school's quota of allowable deaths for several years to e。
At this juncture it would be a poor idea for Quenthel to kill any student； certainly a scion of the powerful Barrison Del'Armgo。 Quenthel didn't want to stir up discord between the Academy and the noble Houses when Menzoberranzan already perched on the brink of dissolution。
Besides； she was a bit concerned that the other failed runaways might take it into their heads to jump into the fight on their ringleader's side。
Quenthel quieted the vipers with a thought； fixed Drisinil with her steeliest stare； and said； 〃Think。〃
〃I have thought；〃 Drisinil retorted。 〃I've thought； why should we spend ten years of our lives cooped up on Tier Breche when there's nothing for us here？〃
〃There is everything for you here；〃 said Quenthel； maintaining the pressure of her gaze。 〃This is where you learn to be all that a lady of Menzoberranzan must be。〃
〃What？ What am I learning？〃
〃At the moment； patience and submission。〃
〃That's not what I came for。〃
〃Evidently not。 Consider this； then。 All the priestesses of Menzoberranzan are currently playing a game； and the object of the game is to convince others that nothing is amiss。 If a student leaves ArachTinilith prematurely； as none has ever done since the founding of the city； that will seem peculiar； a hint that all is not as it ought to be。〃
〃Perhaps I don't care about the game。〃
〃Your mother does。 She plays as diligently as the rest of us。 Do you think she will wele you home if you jeopardize her efforts？〃
Drisinil's emerald eyes blinked； the first sign that Quenthel's stare was unsettling her。 〃I 。。。 yes； certainly she would〃
〃You； a traitor to your House； your city； your sex； and the goddess herself？〃
〃The goddess—〃
〃Don't say it〃 Quenthel snapped。 〃Or your life ends； and your soul is bound to torment forevermore。 I speak not only as Mistress of ArachTinilith； but as a Baenre。 You remember Baenre； Barrison Del'Armgo？ We are the First House； and you； merely the Second。 Even if you should succeed in departing ArachTinilith； even if your gross and uncouth dam should be so unwise as to accept you back into that hovel you Del'Armgo call a home； you will not survive the month。 My sister Triel； Matron Mother Baenre； will personally attend to your destruction。〃
It was no less than the truth。 There was no love lost between the two Baenre sisters； but when it came to maintaining the supremacy of their House； they supported one another absolutely。
Drisinil swallowed and lowered her eyes a hair。 〃Mistress； I mean no disrespect。 I just don't want to mutilate myself。〃
〃But you will； novice； and without any further delay。 You really have no other option 。 。 。 and isn't it convenient； you already have a knife in your grasp。〃
Drisinil swallowed again； and； her dagger hand shaking a little； brought the blade into position to saw at her little finger。 Quenthel thought the procedure might go easier if the novice walked a few steps and braced her pinkie atop the nearby table； but apparently she was taking 〃without any further delay〃 quite literally； and that was fine with the high priestess。 In her imagination； she was already savoring the first slice when a blare like a sour note blasted from a hundred glaur horns split the air。
For an instant； Quenthel faltered； not frightened but disoriented。 She had been told what this ugly noise was but had expected never to actually hear it。 To the best of her knowledge； no one ever had。
The priestesses of Menzoberranzan enjoyed a plex relationship with the inhabitants of the Abyss。 Some infernal entities were the knights or handmaidens of Lolth； and during worship were venerated as such； but on other occasions the clerics did not scruple to snare spirits with their summoning spells and pel them to do their bidding。 Sometimes the creatures stalked the physical plane of their own volition； slaughtering any mortal who crossed their path； not excepting the drow； who were by some accounts their kindred。
The founders of the Academy had shielded Tier Breche in general and ArachTinilith in particular with enchantments devised to keep out any spirit save those the occupants saw fit to wele。 Countless generations of priestesses had deemed those wards impregnable； but if the earsplitting alarm told true； the barriers were falling one by one。
The blare seemed to be ing from the south。 The pleasures of chastisement fotten； Quenthel ran in that direction past countless chapels； altars； and icons of Lolth in both her dark elf and spider forms； past the classrooms where the faculty gave instruction in dogma； ritual； divine magic； torture； sacrifice； and all the other arts the novices needed to learn。 Their books； chalkboards； and whimpering； halfdissected slave victims fotten； some of the teachers and students appeared on the brink of venturing out to investigate the alarm； while others still looked startled and confused。
The blaring stopped。 Either the demon had given up attempting to force its way in； or else it had breached every single ward。 Quenthel suspected the latter was the case； and when the screaming started； she knew she was right。
〃Do you know what's breaking through？〃 she panted。
〃No；〃 hissed Yngoth； perhaps the wisest of the whip vipers。 〃The intruder has shielded itself from the Sight。〃
〃Wonderful。〃
The echoing cries led Quenthel into a spacious candlelit hall filled with towering black marble sculptures of spiders； set there to make the temple's entryway as impressive as possible。 The battered valves of the great adamantine double door in the curved south wall gaped crookedly； half off their hinges； affording a glimpse of the plateau outside。 Several priestesses lay battered and insensible on the floor。 For a moment； Quenthel couldn't mak