Charon's Claw (Neverwinter #3)(104)

Ravel was glad for that, for he understood the argument that awaited him back in the forge area when he returned to face Berellip and Brack’thal. The open hatred with which his brother now stared at him promised at least that.

I did not think you would come, Jearth’s fingers flashed to Saribel Xorlarrin sometime later in the higher tunnels.

Saribel regarded him contemptuously and did not reply.

You could have sent lesser priestesses, Jearth’s hand flashed. Surely you know the danger here.

No more than the danger below, Saribel hastily flashed back. Her fingers continued, but she clamped her fist shut, shutting down the communication. “Do you think I fear battle?” she asked aloud, her voice seeming absurdly loud in the dull silence of the dusty chambers, the volume drawing looks of alarm from Jearth and others nearby.

It is not wise to . . . the weapons master started to reply with fingers emphatically waggling.

“Enough, Jearth,” Saribel demanded. “If there are enemies to be found, then let us find them and be done with them.”

Jearth motioned for the others to move past and he motioned Saribel aside into a small and broken chamber, one that might have served as an antechamber for a chapel, for through a second, low archway, one nearly crumbled, it connected to a large room that had what appeared to be the remains of an altar at its far end. Glancing through it, Jearth watched a patrol of goblins scurrying along.

He turned to the priestess.

“If you’re so afraid . . .” she started to say, but he cut her short with an upraised hand.

“Of course I’m not,” he replied quietly. “I wish nothing more than to find some enemy blood to wet my blades. But I wish our conversation private.”

“Plotting?” she asked slyly.

“You see the coming battle as clearly as I.”

“I hope to, indeed.”

“Ravel will win out.”

Saribel scoffed at that.

“You don’t believe it, or you do not wish it?”

“The latter,” Saribel replied with a grin, “and so, doubtlessly, the former will follow.”

Jearth understood her clearly enough. Berellip preferred Brack’thal.

The weapons master shook his head, slowly and deliberately.

“You doubt the priestesses of Lolth?” Saribel asked incredulously.

I do not doubt at all that Berellip could find victory for whichever side she chose. Jearth went back to the silent hand signals, for he sensed someone just beyond the archway and wanted this critical exchange to be truly private. But why would Saribel follow?

Saribel’s superior expression turned to one of confusion, and Jearth knew that he was on very dangerous ground. His fingers moved slowly. If Berellip chooses Brack’thal, Berellip chooses wrongly.

Saribel’s eyes widened and Jearth added, Tiago Baenre stands with Ravel.

Then Tiago Baenre . . . she started to reply, but Jearth emphatically interrupted her.

If Tiago does not return to Matron Mother Quenthel, House Baenre will wage war on House Xorlarrin, he explained. There is no exception to be found. If Tiago is killed by a corbie or a cave-in, or smitten dead by Berellip, it matters not at all. Matron Mother Quenthel Baenre has assured me of this. It was her way of ensuring that Tiago’s choice would, by necessity, be our choice.

Saribel’s shoulders slumped visibly, dropping under the undeniable weight of House Baenre.

Tiago has made his choice and will not be dissuaded. He stands with Ravel.

Berellip does not, Saribel’s fingers replied. I must go to her. She started to turn, but Jearth caught her by the arm, and when she turned back, outraged that he had dared touch her, he smiled to calm her.

“Why?” he asked aloud.

Saribel looked at him without any sign of comprehension. How had this dolt ever climbed so high among the priestesses of the House? Could it be more clearly spoken? He was offering Saribel ascension. If Berellip sided with Brack’thal, but he and Saribel turned against her, the battle would be short-lived indeed. For all of Berellip’s power, and all of Brack’thal’s newfound prowess, Ravel commanded the spellspinners and had Tiago at his side.

Surely you can justify your decision to Matron Zeerith, knowing that Berellip’s course would have set House Baenre upon us, he dared signal.

So there it was, out in the open. As his hands stopped communicating, Jearth brought them near to his weapons. He could defeat this priestess, he believed, but only if he was quick and his aim true.

For a long while, Saribel’s expression remained impassive.

“If our mission here is successful, it might well create a new hierarchy in House Xorlarrin,” Jearth stated.

“Certainly Ravel would be elevated above the stature of Brack’thal,” Saribel replied, her words sounding as sweet music in Jearth’s ears. “Formally, I mean, for already it is clear that the Secondboy has the favor of Matron Zeerith above the Elderboy.”

“Lolth blesses this expedition, and will heap rewards and stature upon her priestesses who facilitated it, either by the Spider Queen’s side in a place of honor in death, or within House Xorlarrin for those who return,” Jearth said with a wry grin, one that was soon reflected on Saribel’s face.

A cry from somewhere ahead of them told them that battle had been joined.

“For the glory of House Xorlarrin,” Saribel said, and she started away.