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Matron Malice would see to those.
    An expectant hush permeated the air of this city section. It was general knowledge throughout Menzoberranzan that Matron Ginafae of House DeVir had fallen out of favor with Lolth, the Spider Queen deity to all drow and the true source of every house’s strength. Such circumstances were never openly discussed among the drow, but everyone who knew fully expected that some family lower in the city hierarchy soon would strike out against the crippled House DeVir.
    Matron Ginafae and her family had been the last to learn of the Spider Queen’s displeasure—ever was that Lolth’s devious way— and Dinin could tell just by scanning the outside of House DeVir that the doomed family had not found sufficient time to erect proper defenses. DeVir sported nearly four hundred soldiers, many female, but those that Dinin could now see at their posts along the parapets seemed nervous and unsure.
    Dinin’s smile spread even wider when he thought of his own house, which grew in power daily under the cunning guidance of Matron Malice. With all three of his sisters rapidly approaching the status of high priestess, his brother an accomplished wizard, and his uncle Zaknafein, the finest weapons master in all of Menzoberranzan, busily training the three hundred soldiers, House Do’Urden was a complete force. And, Matron Malice, unlike Ginafae, was in the Spider Queen’s full favor.
    “Daermon N’a’shezbaernon,” Dinin muttered under his breath, using the formal and ancestral reference to House Do’Urden. “Ninth House of Menzoberranzan!” He liked the sound of it.

    Halfway across the city, beyond the silver-glowing balcony and the arched doorway twenty feet up the cavern’s west wall, sat the principals of House Do’Urden, gathered to outline the final plans of the night’s work. On the raised dais at the back of the small audience chamber sat venerable Matron Malice, her belly swollen in the final hours of pregnancy. Flanking her in their places of honor were her three daughters, Maya, Vierna, and the eldest, Briza, a newly ordained high priestess of Lolth. Maya and Vierna appeared as younger versions of their mother, slender and deceptively small, though possessing great strength. Briza, though, hardly carried the family resemblance. She was big—huge by drow standards—and rounded in the shoulders and hips. Those who knew Briza well figured that her size was merely a circumstance of her temperament; a smaller body could not have contained the anger and brutal streak of House Do’Urden’s newest high priestess.
    “Dinin should return soon,” remarked Rizzen, the present patron of the family, “to let us know if the time is right for the assault.”
    “We go before Narbondel finds its morning glow!” Briza snapped at him in her thick but razor-sharp voice. She turned a crooked smile to her mother, seeking approval for putting the male in his place.
    “The child comes this night,” Matron Malice explained to her anxious husband. “We go no matter what news Dinin bears.”
    “It will be a boy child,” groaned Briza, making no effort to hide her disappointment, “third living son of House Do’Urden.”
    “To be sacrificed to Lolth,” put in Zaknafein, a former patron of the house who now held the important position of weapons master. The skilled drow fighter seemed quite pleased at the thought of sacrifice, as did Nalfein, the family’s eldest son, who stood at Zak’s side. Nalfein was the elderboy, and he needed no more competition beyond Dinin within the ranks of House Do’Urden.
    “In accord with custom,” Briza glowered and the red of her eyes brightened. “To aid in our victory!”
    Rizzen shifted uncomfortably. “Matron Malice,” he dared to speak, “you know well the difficulties of birthing. Might the pain distract you—”
    “You dare to question the matron mother?” Briza started sharply, reaching for the snake-headed whip so comfortably strapped—and