Relentless

by R. A. Salvatore

  “You ask us to do what is wrong,” Yvonnel dared to say, for arguing against the edicts of Lolth on moral grounds was always a dare—and usually a fatal one! “When did that stop mattering to us, I wonder?”

  Sos’Umptu and many of the others stared at her with abject shock.

  “Our duty is to Lolth,” Sos’Umptu said when she found her voice. “That is all that is right.”

  “Is it?” asked Kimmuriel Oblodra.

  Sos’Umptu shot him a threatening glare. “You will speak when you are asked to speak, or not at all!”

  “I ask you to speak,” Yvonnel said, locking with Sos’Umptu’s glare and not letting go. “Your simple question is shocking to many here. Tell us—tell them—what you mean.”

  Yvonnel knew that she was taking a great risk here in even allowing this man to speak. But what did they have to lose that wasn’t already being taken from them?

  “I invite you, Yvonnel, and the Matron Mother to allow me into your minds, for there I can relate much more to you both than with mere words,” Kimmuriel said. “I will impart to you everything I know.”

  “But not the rest of us,” Matron Zeerith sharply said. When all turned to her, the old matron, sitting on her summoned magical disk, added, “You would tell Yvonnel, who is not a matron, who does not sit on the Ruling Council, who is . . . what?”

  “She is infused with the memories of Matron Mother Yvonnel the Eternal,” Kimmuriel reminded. “Priestess Yvonnel will perhaps understand the implications of that which I have learned, as will Matron Mother Quenthel. They will be better informed and equipped to relate those implications, those truths, to the rest of you than I.”

  “Presumptuous,” Zeerith said.

  “I do not pretend to understand anything at all about you and your damned family, Oblodran,” Matron Byrtyn added. “Nor do I trust you.”

  “Not at all,” Zeerith agreed. “Take care, Matron Mother. This one has not forgotten that it was House Baenre’s Matron and matriarch, your mother, Yvonnel’s grandmother, who dropped the heretical Oblodrans into the Clawrift.”

  “Because we were heretics,” Kimmuriel echoed with a sigh. He looked to the two Baenres he had been addressing. “Perhaps in that, too, you will find some insight from that which I wish to show you.”

  “Speak it,” demanded Sos’Umptu.

  Perhaps it was that particular speaker and the insistence of her demand, both Kimmuriel and Yvonnel thought, that spurred Matron Mother Quenthel to hold up her hand and bid Sos’Umptu to silence.

  “We may not trust him, but will any here deny that it was Kimmuriel more than anyone else who brought to us the power of the hive mind in our battle with Demogorgon?” Quenthel reminded. “Have we so soon forgotten?”

  “Perhaps now the hive mind can offer insight to you,” Kimmuriel said, and Quenthel nodded.

  “We garner our insight from our prayers to Lolth,” Sos’Umptu reminded. “Is this illithid hive mind your god, Oblodran?”

  Kimmuriel paused and considered that. “It is not all-knowing, but more knowing than most, for what we hide with spoken words we cannot hide within ourselves. A god? No. But it and its illithid limbs comprise a library of truth, where no lie can exist without it being known as a lie.”

  As all the others stood trying to decipher the unexpected answer, Quenthel nodded, led Kimmuriel and Yvonnel a bit to the side, and motioned for him to begin.

  The psionicist closed his eyes and linked first with Quenthel, then with Yvonnel, and there, telepathically, he told them his truths. Both, Quenthel particularly, resisted and even recoiled, nearly breaking the connection when Kimmuriel informed them that to the illithids, Lolth was not a goddess at all. She was a manifestation of malevolence, an infection. Lolth was a bitter bit of a reasoning being promoting pride and envy, greed and power, but nothing more. She was a whispered internal lie coaxing the speaker and listener, one and the same, into a deepening gloom.

  He convinced them that this was just what the illithid believed—and that he did not share that belief—and Quenthel stopped struggling against him.

  He told them everything that had transpired with Ouwoonivisc at the hive mind, and emphatically bade the two women to remember the fall of House Oblodra in order to gain perspective. They had that memory, Quenthel both as perpetrator and witness, for they had all of Yvonnel the Eternal’s memories and it was she, after all, who channeled the power of Lolth to take down the house.

  Then he began to impart the rest, the obvious conclusions to coincide with his explanation of the illithids’ beliefs, and more particularly, of what he had learned regarding Zhindia’s sudden ascension. But Quenthel stopped him once more, her thoughts screaming back at him.

  Kimmuriel blinked open his eyes to find the Matron Mother staring at him.

  “You cannot make such claims,” she said aloud.

  “I only relate what I learned at the hive mind. I thought it best to tell you.”

  “The Matron Mother might not agree,” Yvonnel remarked. “Sometimes there is innocence in ignorance.”

  “Surely you do not believe him!” Quenthel shouted at her.

  “There are times, like now, where I no longer know what to believe,” Yvonnel answered.

  “Are we to be left in our ignorance?” Zeerith demanded from across the way.

  “Yes, Matron Mother, I, too, demand that you have this man speak openly to us all,” said Sos’Umptu.

  Yvonnel looked to her, then to Kimmuriel, and nodded.

  “You will not like it,” the Matron Mother said.

  “I’m certain of that,” Sos’Umptu said, and the others nodded their agreement.

  “Very well. Start with the claim of this illithid,” Quenthel instructed, as the others joined them.

  “Ouwoonivisc,” said Kimmuriel. “He has been uncovered by the hive mind as an agent of Lolth, carrying the infection to the illithids.”

  “Infection?” Sos’Umptu demanded.

  “That is how they see it, not I,” Kimmuriel replied, and lied, for that was exactly how he had come to understand this Spider Queen creature. Lolth was within every reasoning being, that dark and selfish side of the mind. A disease, an infection, most often suppressed to a great degree. But not when Lolth got these beings under her thrall. Then the malignancy did grow, and the dark thoughts emerged. Even as he considered that, Kimmuriel better understood why Lolth had tried for the hive mind multiple times—and was probably still trying to infect the illithids now. How great might her powers become if the illithids, with their ability to tap into the thoughts of sentient beings, began to spread the infection?

  “This is not the first time Lolth has tried to ensnare the illithids, as I showed you both with the memories of your mother and your namesake,” Kimmuriel went on. “Then, too, in that long-ago era, lies the secret of House Oblodra, one that I did not even know until now.”

  He looked to Matron Zeerith. “Think back to the Time of Troubles, one hundred and thirty years ago. Your house was then ranked fifth in the city, but you knew that you were more powerful than Faen Tlabbar, immediately above you, and more deserving than House Oblodra, then ranked behind only Houses Baenre and Barrison Del’Armgo.”

  “I accepted the decisions of the Ruling Council,” Zeerith protested.

  “Of course, but truthfully, you almost certainly more readily accepted House Faen Tlabbar ahead of you than House Oblodra,” Kimmuriel dared to presume. “We were hardly devout and yet Matron K’yorl sat in a higher seat than you. You thought that because of the fear our strange mind magic brought to the others.”

  Matron Zeerith didn’t disagree.

  “It was more than that,” said Kimmuriel. “Matron K’yorl did indeed hold the favor of Lolth in those times, for she was acting as Lolth’s agent in trying to infect the hive mind. But she was doing more than that. She could not be satisfied with that which Lolth had promised her. In the weakening of the priestesses and the wizards in the Time of Troubles, as you recall, Matron K’yorl began
to place herself above the order of Menzoberranzan itself, above even the Matron Mother. And in her arrogance, K’yorl tried to enlist the hive mind in a plan of conquest.”

  “She wanted to conquer Menzoberranzan?” Zeerith asked.

  “She wanted to conquer Lolth,” Kimmuriel replied. He had their attention then, fully.

  “I believe it to be true,” Yvonnel said. “When I consider the memories I was given, I feel that this conclusion is true.”

  Quenthel agreed.

  “Lolth was not conquered, of course,” Kimmuriel went on. “Nor was she deterred. She has tried again . . . and has failed.” His use of the name of the Spider Queen and the word “fail” in the same sentence brought a wild-eyed scowl to the face of Sos’Umptu. Kimmuriel knew he was on dangerous ground here, but he had gone too far now to reverse course.

  Too, when was a male drow not on dangerous ground surrounded by the females of their race?

  “This time, she used an illithid as her agent, one she had infected,” he said.

  “You keep using that term, ‘infected,’” said Zeerith. “Perhaps you should choose better words regarding the blessings of our Lady Lolth.”

  “I am using the terminology of the illithids,” he replied. “I am telling you their beliefs, to do with as you will.”

  “And the fact that we haven’t killed you already for your blasphemy probably explains a bit why Lolth has chosen to favor Matron Zhindia,” said Zeerith.

  “Better that he become a drider,” Sos’Umptu threatened.

  “If Lolth does favor Matron Zhindia,” Yvonnel interjected, backing them both a bit.

  “How can we doubt that?” Sos’Umptu replied. “Two retrievers!”

  “Kimmuriel claims that it was not Lolth who gave the magnificent constructs to Matron Zhindia,” said Quenthel.

  “It was her handmaiden, Yiccardaria,” Kimmuriel said.

  “With the blessing of Lolth, of course,” said Sos’Umptu.

  “I do not believe that Lolth even knows,” Kimmuriel said. “Or rather, I doubt more that Lolth would even care. Yiccardaria holds an old grudge against a drow warrior who once banished her for a century, even after she had revealed her true form to him. She was with House Hunzrin back when they were challenging Bregan D’aerthe for extra-Menzoberranzan trade privileges. She posed as Priestess Iccara, creating mischief along with Priestess Bolfae.”

  “Handmaiden Bolifaena,” Quenthel clarified for the others.

  “With the prompting of Kimmuriel, I remember the incident, or the report of it,” Yvonnel said, and Quenthel nodded. “Yvonnel the Eternal summoned Bolifaena to confirm the reports brought to her by Jarlaxle. Yiccardaria was banished by the blades of Zaknafein Do’Urden.”

  The news brought gasps but also a warning from Sos’Umptu. “You remember it with his prompting, or is it something he just imparted in your thoughts?”

  “It is true,” Quenthel insisted. “Yiccardaria was banished for a century by Zaknafein.”

  “And now she gave to Matron Zhindia the means to pay Zaknafein back.”

  “A handmaiden is not nearly powerful enough to create or control a retriever,” Zeerith said doubtfully.

  “Yiccardaria was given them by Malcanthet, queen of the Succubi, consort of Demogorgon,” Kimmuriel stated.

  “This is madness and foolishness!” Sos’Umptu declared. “Why would Lolth allow this? She made great gains with the destruction of Demogorgon, but she—”

  “Because Lolth does not care about the details,” Kimmuriel interrupted, drawing another wide-eyed scowl of utter hatred from Sos’Umptu. Kimmuriel knew then that he was certainly about to die (if he was lucky), but he pressed on. “The illithid use the terms they use, and they are not without merit. Lolth holds the motivations of an infection, a disease, not a goddess. She does not guide. Rather, she afflicts. She yearns to find that within each of us that is chaos and unleash it, and she will take whatever path she sees most clearly to inflict her glorious catastrophes.”

  “Execute the fool!” Sos’Umptu demanded of Matron Mother Quenthel. “We must turn him into a drider at once to let him suffer forevermore in the pain of abomination! Maybe then we will stave off the disfavor of the Spider Queen!”

  “I cannot deny that Lolth would enjoy that,” Kimmuriel quietly admitted, but the others were focused on Quenthel, who was shaking her head with doubt.

  “Then this will be the fall of House Baenre,” Quenthel answered Sos’Umptu, “whatever course we choose.”

  “If Lolth decrees it,” Sos’Umptu insisted. “I cannot say that it is not deserved.”

  The room exploded in shouts, all the women looking to one another for guidance.

  “Lolth isn’t decreeing anything,” Kimmuriel interjected, above Sos’Umptu’s yelling at him to be silent.

  “That’s the whole point of her,” Kimmuriel added, when Quenthel had silenced her devout and outraged sister. “She doesn’t care. She never cared, at all. This isn’t about the Baenres and never was. It isn’t about any of us. It’s about the infection that is Lolth, the disease of wickedness, of chaos and strife.”

  “You will die horribly, or beg for it for eons,” Sos’Umptu promised.

  Kimmuriel shrugged. “Think far back,” he told Yvonnel and Quenthel. “Much further back. All the way back . . . to the beginning. You carry those memories. Think of how it all started, the founding of the city. Consider the little lies, accepted in return for something, some small gain, some little blessing, even. That is how the darkness is deepened, bit by bit: accepted lies followed by coerced actions—wrong and unjust, but not so bad at first. The darkness deepened in your heart.”

  “Why are you suffering this fool to speak? Matron Zhindia has the blessing of Lolth,” Sos’Umptu interrupted. “All see it now, to our doom!”

  “Lolth doesn’t care,” Kimmuriel dared reply, the chorus to the song of his own demise. “Oh, what power she has gained now because of the actions of Menzoberranzan, of those of Yvonnel and Matron Mother Quenthel against her rival, Demogorgon. Now she tries for the hive mind of the illithids—or tried, but she has failed, again discovered and defeated. Because they know the truth of her, the truth I have offered to you. She is more disease than being, more affliction than goddess. And yet for all that, she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care about Zaknafein Do’Urden—it was not she who brought him back.”

  “It was me,” Yvonnel admitted, to loud gasps. The young purple-eyed woman shrugged helplessly. “I do not even know how I did it.”

  “Just that it was without Lolth,” Kimmuriel reasoned. “How could you manage among the greatest of spells, resurrection itself, against the wishes of your supposed goddess?”

  “Supposed?” Sos’Umptu warned.

  “We are past that,” Kimmuriel said to her, the dismissal causing the high priestess to growl. “Yvonnel was able to perform the spell because Lolth doesn’t care. Not for Zaknafein, and surely not for Drizzt Do’Urden. He might be the biggest joke she has played on her children in centuries. We think him the ultimate heretic, yet Lolth confronted him in a tunnel and tried again to convert him. She could have destroyed him, but she did not. She did not!”

  Kimmuriel paused . . . and offered a chuckle.

  “Do you think this is funny, Obladran?”

  “Of course. You just said it—it really doesn’t matter who wins here in Lolth’s grand scheme, because no matter the outcome, against the northland of Faerun, or within the coming storm to decide the hierarchy of Menzoberranzan, the Lady of Chaos will move on to her next game. This is what I learned at the hive mind of the illithids, and this is what I relate to you, at great risk. The judgment is yours, not mine.”

  “The judgment upon you will likely be decided by Lady Lolth,” Quenthel said then, silencing Kimmuriel. If he had lost her, his life was over, but he didn’t need to press his luck. “For now, perhaps our most prudent and easiest course will be to side with Matron Zhindia, finish this business on the surface, then fight whatever
battle we find back in Menzoberranzan.”

  “Thank you, Matron Mother,” Sos’Umptu said with a bow. “I should not have doubted your judgment.”

  “That is the easiest course,” Yvonnel agreed, and Kimmuriel swallowed hard, expecting the blow. “But is it the right course? Or have we so fully lost our sense of guidance and conscience that such a thing as that, as simple a matter of right and wrong, matters not at all?”

  “Deep is the darkness,” Kimmuriel whispered, and it—like so much he’d said here—was not well received by Sos’Umptu and several of the others.

  “Darkened through centuries,” Quenthel reasoned.

  “This is madness! Blasphemy!” Sos’Umptu shouted, having none of it. “No one will follow us—will follow you—if you persist in this fantasy foisted upon us by a desperate and vengeful heretic and fool.”

  “We will think on it, all of us,” Yvonnel said.

  “We will pray on it,” Quenthel corrected her.

  “We should be quick in our contemplations,” Matron Zeerith warned. “Matron Zhindia is coming.”

  “Something is wrong with all of this,” Yvonnel said. “I cannot ignore that if Lolth wanted Zaknafein dead, or Drizzt dead, it could have been accomplished much more easily. How could that be a test that we failed? We destroyed her rival—Drizzt was the spear of that destruction. And she herself met him in that tunnel far from here and did not destroy him even when he denied her. You all, even you, Mistress Sos’Umptu, believed that it was likely Lady Lolth who returned Zaknafein to Drizzt.”

  “And you knew better and hadn’t the courage to tell us,” Sos’Umptu replied.

  “It is true,” Yvonnel admitted. “But still, why would she turn on us?”

  “Perhaps because of your act, fool,” Sos’Umptu said.

  “I could not have done such a thing as resurrection, true resurrection, without her, if all that we believe about her, about all the gods, is the truth,” Yvonnel argued. She wasn’t convincing Sos’Umptu, obviously, but just as obviously, her target audience here was Quenthel.

  “Then why?” Quenthel asked, considering her theory.