"The Academy teaches that the goddess left Arvandor willingly," Ryld said. Then he shrugged. "More of a strategic retreat."

"Perhaps," Halisstra mused. "Still, I can't help but think that what we saw in the Demonweb Pits?that black stone in the frozen image of Lolth's face?was a lock, a seal that made Lolth's own temple a prison. A prison fashioned by some other god's hand. Will Lolth eventually emerge from behind it?or will she remain trapped for eternity, her magic forever stilled?"

"That's what Quenthel means to discover," Ryld said.

"As do I," Halisstra answered. "But for different reasons. If Lolth is dead, or trapped in eternal Reverie, what point is there in following Quenthel's orders?"

"What point?" Ryld exclaimed. He was beginning to see the dangerous fork in the road down which Halisstra's musings had taken her. "Only this: spells or no spells, Quenthel Baenre is both Mistress of Arach-Tinilith and First Sister to the Matron Mother of House Baenre. Were I to defy Quenthel, I'd lose my position as Master of Melee-Magthere. The moment Menzoberranzan learned of my treachery, everyone in the Academy would have their daggers out and be thirsting for my blood."

Halisstra sighed and said, "That's true. But perhaps in another city?"

"I have no desire to beg for scraps at someone else's table," Ryld said bluntly. "And the only city in which I might have made a home for myself?with the sponsorship of your House?has been destroyed. With Ched Nasad gone, you have no home to return to. All the more reason to get in Quenthel's good favor, so that when we return to the Underdark you can find a new home in Menzoberranzan."

After a long moment of silence, Halisstra said, "What if I don't?"

"What?" Ryld said.