p into unseen caverns above。 Though its turrets and spires leaned boldly out over a horrifying precipice； the place did not seem frail or precarious in any sense。 Its massive pier of rock was one of the bones of the world； a thick spar rooted so securely in the chasm wall that nothing short of the unmaking of Toril would tear it loose。
Those few scholars who remembered the place knew it as Chaulssin； the City of Wyrmshadows； and even most of them forgot why the city was called that。 In the lightless fortress on the edge of an abyss； the shadows themselves lived。 Inky pools of midnight blacker than a drow's heart curled and flowed from tower to tower。 Whispering darkness slithered like a gigantic； hungering dragon in and about the needle…like spires and the open…sided galleries of the dead city。 From time to time the living shadows swallowed portions of the city for centuries； drawing a palace or a temple deep into a cold place beyond the circles of the world。
Nimor Imphraezl climbed deliberately through Chaulssin's deserted galleries； seemingly oblivious to the living black curtains that danced and writhed in the city's dark places。 The maddening howl of the endless hurricane rising up past the city walls ripped at his cloak and sent his long silver hair streaming from his head； but he paid it no mind。 This was his place； his refuge； and its perils and madness simply familiar features undeserving of his attention。 Nimor wore the shape of a slim； almost boyish dark elf； which was to say that he was short of stature and slender as a reed。 The top of his head would barely reach the nose of a typical female； and any female with a little height to her would tower over him head and shoulders。
Despite his graceful build； Nimor virtually radiated power。 His small frame seemed to burst with a precise strength and lethal quickness far out of proportion to his body。 His face was narrow but handsome； almost beautiful； and he carried himself with the supreme arrogance of a noble…born drow who feared nothing in his path。 It was a part he played well； being a drow of a high House； a prince of his ruined city。 If he was something else； something more； well 。 。 。 those few dark elves who lived there with him were much the same。
Nimor reached the end of the gallery and turned inward； climbing up a grand stairway cut through the heart of the monolithic spur to which Chaulssin clung。 The cacophony of the winds outside faded quickly to a distant but deep whispering； sibilant and penetrating。 There was no place one could go within Chaulssin to escape the sound。 He set his hand on the hilt of his rapier and followed the spiraling black steps up into a great dark chamber； a vaulted cathedral of shadows in the heart of the city。 Flickering torches of everburning fire in bronze sconces cast faint； ruddy pools of light along the ribbed walls； streaks of red that faded into the blackness of the vault overhead。 Up there the shadows were close indeed； a roiling well of blackness that even Nimor's eyes could not penetrate。
〃Nimor。 You are late。〃
Standing in a circle in the center of the room； the seven Patron Fathers of the Jaezred Chaulssin turned as one to watch Nimor approach。 On the far side of the circle stood Patron Grandfather Mauzzkyl； a hale old dark elf with broad shoulders and a deep chest； his hair thinning to a sharp widow's peak。
〃The Patron Fathers do not wait on the pleasure of the Anointed Blade of the Jaezred Chaulssin；〃 Mauzzkyl said。
〃Revered Grandfather； my delay was unavoidable；〃 Nimor replied。
He joined the circle in the place that had been left for him； offering no obeisance and expecting none from the others。 As the Anointed Blade he answered only to the Patron Grandfather； and in fact stood higher among the Jaezred Chaulssin than any of the Patron Fathers except Mauzzkyl。
〃I am lately e from Menzoberranzan；〃 he added； 〃and tarried as long as I could to observe events before departing。〃
〃How stand matters there？〃 asked Patron Father Tomphael。 He was slender and rakish； much like Nimor in appearance； but he preferred the robes of a wizard to the mail of a fighter； and he possessed a streak of caution that sometimes verged on cowardice。 〃How does our revolt fare？〃
〃Not as well as I might like； but about as well as I expected；〃 admitted Nimor。 Tomphael's divinations had no doubt revealed that much。 Did the Patron Father hope to catch the Anointed Blade concealing a failure？ Nimor almost smiled at the simplicity of it。 〃The slaves were crushed easily enough。 Gromph Baenre took an interest in things； and his agents seem to have destroyed or driven off our illithilich friend。 On the positive side； we did expose something of the spider…kissers' weakness to the mon Menzoberranyr； which is promising； and the priestesses obliged us by using a significant amount of their hoarded magic to destroy their own rebellious slaves。 The city is weakened thereby。〃
〃You might have taken a more direct hand in the affair；〃 said Patron Xorthaul； who wore the black mail of a priest。 〃If you had slain the archmage's lackeys…〃
〃The revolt we sponsored still would have been crushed； and I would have put them on their guard too soon；〃 Nimor interrupted。 〃Remember； Patron Xorthaul； this was never intended to be anything other than a simple feint； easily deflected； by which we might assay the real strength of the matron mothers of Menzoberranzan。 The next blow will be the one that beats down their guard and slices deep into flesh。〃 He decided to turn the topic and set someone else on the defensive。 〃As I am the last to arrive； I have no news of how affairs proceed in the other cities。 What of Eryndlyn？ Or Ched Nasad？〃
Cold smiles twisted cruel faces。 Nimor blinked。 It wasn't often that the patron fathers encountered an event in which they could collectively take pleasure。 Grandfather Mauzzkyl himself broke the news。
〃Eryndlyn proceeds much as we expected…Patron Father Tomphael brought tidings not dissimilar to your own…but Ched Nasad。 。 。 。 From Ched Nasad； Patron Father Zammzt returns in triumph。〃
〃Really？〃 drawled Nimor； impressed despite himself。
He restrained a hot flash of jealousy and turned to face Zammzt； a dark elf of such unremarkable appearance he might have been a lowly armorer or swordsmith； a mon artisan barely a step above a slave。 Zammzt merely folded his arms across his chest and inclined his head in recognition of Grandfather Mauzzkyl's remark。
〃What happened？〃 asked Nimor。 〃Ched Nasad should not have fallen so easily。〃
〃As it happened； Anointed Blade； the stonefire bombs your duergar allies provided us had a devastating effect on the calcified webs upon which Ched Nasad was built；〃 Zammzt said； doubtless feigning his humility。 〃Just as flame consumes a cobweb； the stonefire devoured the very structure of the city。 With their castles and their palaces plummeting to the bottom of the cavern like burning sparks of paper； the Ched Nasadans could organize no real defense at all。 No strong point of any significance survived the fires； and few of the House armies escaped from the conflagrations to contest the cavern。〃
〃What is left of the city？〃
〃Very little； I'm afraid。 A few isolated districts and outlying structures relegated to side caverns survived the fire。 Of the city's people； I would guess that half perished in the fall and roughly one…third fled into the outer tunnels； where they will doubtless e to a variety of bad ends。 Most of the survivors belong to those minor Houses allied with us； or minor Houses who were quick to appreciate the new order of things in the city。〃
Nimor stroked his chin and said； 〃So； from a city of twenty thousand； only three thousand remain？〃
〃A little less； after the slaves fled the city；〃 Zammzt replied； allowing himself a fierce grin。 〃Of the spider…kissing females； nothing remains。〃
〃Likely some number of Lolth priestesses escaped with those who fled into the Underdark；〃 Nimor mused。 〃They won't all die in the tunnels。 Still； that is great news； Patron Father。 We have freed our first city from Lolth's dominion。 Others are sure to follow。〃
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