Exile (The Dark Elf Trilogy #2)(22)

Dinin had played this role often before, but this time Matron Malice had warned him that if a single voice called out incorrectly, Dinin’s life would be forfeit. Still another fact disturbed the elderboy of House Do’Urden. He was normally accompanied in his chapel duties by the other male noble of the house, Malice’s present mate. Rizzen had not been seen since that day when the whole family had gathered in the anteroom. Dinin suspected that Rizzen’s reign as patron soon would come to a crashing end. It was no secret that Matron Malice had given previous mates to Lloth.

When all of the commoners were seated, magical red lights began to glow softly all about the room. The illumination increased gradually, allowing the gathered dark elves to comfortably shift their dual-purpose eyes from the infrared spectrum into the realm of light.

Misty vapors rolled out from under the seats, hugged the floor, and rose in curling wisps. Dinin led the crowd in a low hum, the calling of Matron Malice.

Malice appeared at the top of the room’s domed ceiling, her arms outstretched and the folds of her spider-emblazoned black robes whipping about in an enchanted breeze. She descended slowly, turning complete circuits to survey the gathering-and to let them look upon the splendor that was their matron mother.

When Malice alighted on the central dais, Briza and Shi’nayne appeared on the ceiling, floating down in similar fashion. They landed and took their places, Briza at the cloth-covered case off to the side of the spider-shaped sacrificial table and Shi’nayne behind Matron Malice.

Malice clapped her hands and the humming stopped abruptly. Eight braziers lining the central dais roared to life, their flames’ brightness less painful to the sensitive drow eyes in the red, mist-enshrouded glow.

“Enter, my daughters!,” Malice cried, and all heads turned to the chapel’s main doors. Vierna and Maya came in, with Rizzen, sluggish and apparently drugged, supported between them and a casket floating in the air behind them.

Dinin, among others, thought this an odd arrangement. He could assume, he supposed, that Rizzen was to be sacrificed, but he had never heard of a coffin being brought in to the ceremony.

The younger Do’Urden daughters moved up to the central dais and quickly strapped Rizzen down to the sacrificial table. Shi’nayne intercepted the floating casket and guided it to a position off to the side opposite Briza.

“Call to the handmaiden!” Malice cried, and Dinin immediately sent the gathering into the desired chant. The braziers roared higher; Malice and the other high priestesses prodded the crowd on with magically enhanced shouts of key words in the summoning. A sudden wind came up from nowhere, it seemed, and whipped the mist into a frenzied dance.

The flames of all eight braziers shot out in high lines over Malice and the others, joining in a furious burst above the center of the circular platform. The braziers puffed once in a unified explosion, throwing the last of their flames into the summoning, then burned low as the lines of fire rolled together in a gathered ball and became a singular pillar of flame.

The commoners gasped but continued their chanting as the pillar rolled through the colors of the spectrum, gradually cooling until the flames were no more. In their place stood a tentacled creature, taller than a drow elf and resembling a half-melted candle with elongated, drooping facial features. All the crowd recognized the being, though few commoners had ever actually seen one before, except perhaps in illustrations in the clerical books. All in attendance knew well enough the importance of this gathering at that moment, for no drow could possibly miss the significance of the presence of a yochlol, a personal handmaiden of Lloth.

“Greetings, Handmaiden,” Malice said loudly. “Blessed is Daermon N’a’shezbaernon for your presence.”

The yochlol surveyed the gathering for a long while, surprised that House Do’Urden had issued such a summons. Matron Malice was not in the favor of Lloth.

Only the high priestesses felt the telepathic question. Why dare you call to me?

“To right our wrongs!” Malice cried out aloud, drawing the whole of the gathering into the tense moment. “To regain the favor of your Mistress, the favor that is the only purpose of our existence!” Malice looked pointedly at Dinin, and he began the correct song, the highest song of praise to the Spider Queen.

I am pleased by your display; Matron Malice, came the yochlol’s thoughts, this time directed solely at Malice. But you know that this gathering does nothing to aid in your peril!

This is but the beginning, Malice answered mentally, confident that the handmaiden could read her every thought. The matron took comfort in that knowledge, for she held faith that her desires to regain the favor of Lloth were sincere. My youngest son has wronged the Spider Queen. He must pay for his deeds.

The other high priestesses, excluded from the telepathic conversation, joined in the song to Lloth.

Drizzt Do’Urden lives, the yochlol reminded Malice. And he is not in your custody.

That shall soon be corrected, Malice promised.

What do you desire of me?

“Zin-carla!” Malice cried aloud.

The yochlol swayed backward, momentarily stunned by the boldness of the request. Malice held her ground, determined that her plan would not fail. Around her, the other priestesses held their breath, fully realizing that the moment of triumph or disaster was upon them all.

It is our highest gift, came the yochlol’s thoughts, given rarely even to matrons in the favor of the Spider Queen. And you, who have not pleased Lloth, dare to ask for Zin- carla?