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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