“You do not belong in this place!” Malice protested, her slender fists clenched at her side. She considered the possibilities of attacking her rival there and then, of throttling SiNafay with her own hands.

“Be at ease, Malice,” SiNafay remarked casually. “I am here by the invitation of Matron Baenre, as are you.”

The mention of Matron Baenre and the reminder of where they were calmed Malice considerably. One did not act out of sorts in the chapel of House Baenre! Malice moved to the opposite end of the circular dais and took a seat, her gaze never leaving the smugly smiling face of SiNafay Hun’ett.

After a few interminable moments of silence, Malice had to speak her mind. “It was House Hun’ett that attacked my family in the last dark of Narbondel,” she said. “I have many witnesses to the fact. There can be no doubt!”

“None,” SiNafay replied, her agreement catching Malice off her guard.

“You admit the deed?” she balked.

“Indeed,” said SiNafay. “Never have I denied it.”

“Yet you live,” Malice sneered. “The laws of Menzoberranzan demand justice upon you and your house.”

“Justice?” SiNafay laughed at the absurd notion. Justice had never been more than a facade and a means of keeping the pretense of order in chaotic Menzoberranzan. “I acted as the Spider Queen demanded of me.”

“If the Spider Queen approved of your methods, you would have been victorious,” Malice reasoned.

“Not so,” interrupted another voice. Malice and SiNafay turned about just as Matron Baenre magically appeared, sitting comfortably in the chair farthest back on the dais.

Malice wanted to scream out at the withered matron mother, both for spying on her conversation and for apparently refuting her claims against SiNafay. Malice had managed to survive the dangers of Menzoberranzan for five hundred years, though, primarily because she understood the implications of angering one such as Matron Baenre.