SiNafay cast a suspicious glance Malice’s way, then moved out of the great chapel.

“I understand,” Malice said to her hostess when SiNafay had gone.

“You understand nothing!” Matron Baenre yelled back at her, suddenly enraged. “I have done all that I may for you, Malice Do’Urden! It was Lloth’s wish that you sit upon the ruling council, and I have arranged, at great personal cost, for that to be so.”

Malice knew then, beyond any doubt, that House Baenre had prompted House Hun’ett to action. How deep did Matron Baenre’s influence go, Malice wondered? Perhaps the withered matron mother also had anticipated, and possibly arranged, the actions of Jarlaxle and the soldiers of Bregan D’aerthe, ultimately the deciding factor in the battle. She would have to find out about that possibility, Malice promised herself. Jarlaxle had dipped his greedy fingers quite deeply into her purse.

“No more,” Matron Baenre continued. “Now you are left to your own wiles. You have not found the favor of Lloth, and that is the only way you, and House Do’Urden, will survive!”

Malice’s fist clenched the arm of her chair so tightly that she almost expected to hear the stone cracking beneath it. She had hoped, with the defeat of House Hun’ett, that she had put the blasphemous deeds of her youngest son behind her.

“You know what must be done,” said Matron Baenre. “Correct the wrong, Malice. I have put myself forward on your behalf. I will not tolerate continued failure!”

“The arrangements have been explained to us, Matron Mother,” Dinin said to Malice when she returned to the adamantite gate of House Do’Urden. He followed Malice across the compound and then levitated up beside her to the balcony outside the noble quarters of the house.

“All of the family is gathered in the anteroom,” Dinin went on. “Even the newest member,” he added with a wink.

Malice did not respond to her son’s feeble attempt at humor. She pushed Dinin aside roughly and stormed down the central corridor, commanding the anteroom door to open with a single powerful word. The family scrambled out of her way as she crossed to her throne, on the far side of the spider-shaped table.