ed to shoot a small； hoofed animal a little before dawn at the end of their third night of travel； and Halisstra was surprised to find that its meat was light and succulent； better than that of a young rothe。
Toward the end of the day the clouds returned； darker and thicker than before； and as the daylight failed and the dark elves made ready for their fourth march on the surface； a soft snow began to fall； wet and heavy。 It was eerily silent； as if the entire forest held its breath to keep from intruding on the moment。 Halisstra watched vigilantly behind the pany； taking a dozen steps forward and turning to scan the trail behind them； sometimes walking backward for several minutes at a time； glancing to the front only to be sure of her footing。 If Pharaun's divinations were accurate； they should reach the stream at the end of that night or perhaps the next； which meant that House Jaelre and the Vhaeraunite priest were only a day beyond。
With the objective of their long journey so close at hand； it occurred to Halisstra that she had no reason why the heretic would consider helping them。 Valas might have been an old acquaintance； but no cleric of the Masked Lord would aid priestesses of Lolth simply out of the goodness of his heart。 Some price would have to be met； of that Halisstra was certain。 Wealth； perhaps？ Quenthel and her rades carried many valuable gemstones。 It was the easiest and most pact way to transport wealth through the wilds of the Underdark。 Halisstra had stuffed her own pockets too before fleeing Ched Nasad。 She doubted that a powerful Vhaeraunite would be so easily purchased； though。
Coercion might be possible； or they might have to barter some kind of service to win his aid。 Danifae was occasionally useful in such arrangements。 Any drow had at least one enemy in need of a setback。
She realized she'd fallen a bit behind； so she picked up her pace to take up position closer behind the main body of the pany。 She trotted easily through the darkness； her boots gliding through the snow； until she caught sight of Jeggred's hulking form and the smaller shapes of her panions moving ahead of her。 Halisstra settled back into her pace； and turned to glance back down the trail。
Someone was there。
From all sides she heard the whisper…quiet sounds of soft feet stealing through the woods； then the sounds were abruptly cut off by a perfect； impenetrable silence that could only be magical。
Halisstra hissed in alarm； but heard nothing。 She brought up her crossbow。 Directly up the path a lanky male elf with skin as white as the snow darted toward her； armed with a gracefully curved war axe in one hand and a shorter hand axe in the other。 His eyes glittered like green death in the night。
〃Watch out！〃 she cried； trying to warn her panions； but again nothing broke the perfect silence。
Without a moment's hesitation she whirled and fired her crossbow at Jeggred； perhaps fifty yards ahead。 She skewed her aim a bit； so instead of taking him between the shoulder blades the quarrel struck quivering into a tree beside the half…demon's head。 The draegloth leaped and shouted…or so she guessed； anyway； since she couldn't hear it…but； more importantly； he turned to see what was happening behind him； and spied the surface elves stealing up from behind them。
An instant later； the elf axeman was upon Halisstra； whirling his two matched crescent blades in a deadly pattern of gleaming steel。 He was shouting something too； a war cry perhaps。 Halisstra gave up her fine crossbow to deflect the first stroke of the long axe； leaped back out of the reach of the shorter one； and hastily drew her mace； slinging her shield from her shoulder。 The pale elf leaped forward to engage again； and they circled； trading skillful blows that failed to find their mark。
Halisstra could see more green…armored shapes flitting through the woods toward her； swords and spears glittering in the darkness。 She redoubled her efforts and put the two…axe fighter on the defensive； hoping to batter down his defenses before she was surrounded by foes。
A brilliant； searing light detonated along the trail behind her； filling the darkened forest with the painful glare of daylight。 The last thing she saw before the spell blinded her pletely was a pany of surface elves and human warriors； dashing up to join the fray。
There was only one thing Halisstra could do。 Raising her shield to buy a moment's time； she ducked down； grasped a handful of dirt and dried leaves from the ground at her feet； and imbued them with magical darkness； making good use of the power shared by all drow。 A heavy blow fell on her shield； without a sound； and she quickly scuttled away from the axeman； staying low to the ground and feeling her way along。 Some of her enemies would be waiting for her to emerge from the impenetrable blackness…at least； that was what Halisstra would have done in their place。 The wisest thing to do was to remain within as long as possible in the hopes that the surface dwellers had no more magic suitable for canceling or dispelling her field of darkness。
As with any drow noble familiar with battle； Halisstra knew to an instant how long her own dome of darkness would persist。 In her case； she could sustain the magical gloom for almost three hours。 If she lay still and quiet for a long time； the surface dwellers might very well think she'd slipped away。 At the very least； she was reasonably sure she could outwait the spell of silence that covered the area。 Once her hearing returned； she might be able to form a better guess as to what to do next。
Mace in hand； she groped her way to a large tree； leaned against its trunk； and settled down to wait。
Nimor stood patiently in the hall outside the council chamber； studiously allowing his shoulders to slump and his face to sag。 He was supposed to be tired； after all。 Dressed in the arms of an officer of House Agrach Dyrr； he'd purportedly fought his way free of the battle at Rhazzt's Dilemma in order to carry word of the attack to the matron mothers。 Of course； the Agrach Dyrr garrison had already delivered the outpost to the army of Gracklstugh； but the matron mothers didn't know that yet。
Feigning exhaustion； despair； and resolve in the proper quantities was difficult for him； especially when his heart raced with excitement and his body quivered in anticipation。 Long…laid plans had found their moment and unfolded slowly toward a terrible fruition。 Through his own labors and toils he had altered the course of two great cities。 Both moved ponderously and yet inevitably toward a terrible collision he had imagined months before； and with each hour events gathered speed and required less and less of his guidance。 Soon he could allow himself to vanish from the stage once more； his great toils done； and make ready to reap the rewards of his labors。
To divert himself while he awaited the summons to the council in the chamber beyond； Nimor studied the hall with care。 One never knew； after all； when a half…remembered doorway or a choice of exits might spell the difference between life and death。 The Hall of Petition； as the place was called； formed the entrance to the matron mothers' secretive council chamber。 The high ladies themselves rarely passed through this room。 They had various secret and magical ways to travel from their palaces and castles to their seats within。 Instead； the Hall of Petition was the place where all who had business with the council awaited the matrons' pleasure。 Naturally； it was nearly empty。
Any drow who needed something simply begged it of one of the matron mothers； and most carefully and respectfully at that。 Only those drow manded to appear before the council waited in the Hall of Petition； and again； anyone whose presence was manded had probably already made his report to one of the matron mothers beforehand。 The hall was most monly employed as a convenient place for persons of interest to the council to wait until called within to deliver her report； present her request； or more often plead her case and hear judgment。
Sixteen proud male warriors and wizards stood in or around the hall；