Resurrection by Paul S. Kemp Page B

Almost.
    "Come, Nauzhror," Gromph said. "We return to my sanctum. The war for the city is won, but there is a battle or two yet to be fought."
    Prath, he sent to the young Baenre apprentice. Meet us in my offices.

    Yasraena stood over the marble scrying basin and watched the image of Gromph Baenre waver and fade as he and his fellow mage teleported away from the ruined bazaar. There was no sign of the lichdrow. The undead wizard's body had been utterly destroyed.
    But not his soul, she reminded herself, not his essence, and that reminder gave her hope.
    Though her heart pounded in her chest, Yasraena kept her expression outwardly calm. With the lichdrow… absent, she was the true and only head of House Agrach Dyrr. It would not do to show alarm.
    Two of her four daughters, Larikal and Esvena, the Third and Fourth Daughters of the House and each a lesser priestess of Lolth, stood to either side of her. Her First and Second Daughters were occupied supervising the defenses of the House against the besieging Xorlarrin forces, so it fell to Larikal and Esvena to gather intelligence and spy on the House's enemies. Both were taller than Yasraena, and Larikal bordered on heavyset, though neither was as strongly built as their mother. But both hadinherited Yasraena's ambition. Both were as eager as any drow priestess to kill their way to the top of their House.
    Three males too stood in the chamber, on the other side of the basin. All were graduates of Sorcere and apprentices of the lichdrow. They seemed stunned that their undead master had been defeated. Slack hands hung limply from the sleeves of their piwafwis. Yasraena saw fear in their stances, uncertainty in their hooded red eyes. It disgusted her but she expected little better from males.
    "The Archmage has retreated to his sanctum," said Larikal. "He is beyond our ability to scry."
    Yasraena vented her frustration on her daughter. "You state the obvious as though it were profound. Be silent unless you have something useful to say, fool."
    Larikal's thin-lipped mouth hardened in anger but her crimson eyes found the floor. The male wizards shifted uneasily, shared surreptitious glances. Yasraena gripped her tentacle rod so tightly in her hand it made her fingers ache. She would have strangled the lichdrow herself, had he stood before her.
    Look where his plotting had gotten her House!
    She stared at the dark water of the stone basin and tried tothink.
    The battle for the city was over, or would be soon. When the great Houses mustered their priestesses-priestesses again capable of casting spells-the tide of battle would turn rapidly. The duergar and tanarukks would be routed. Her House would stand alone against the combined might of all of Menzoberranzan.
    Despite the dire situation, Yasraena held onto hope. After all, House Agrach Dyrr had single handedly annihilated several noble Houses in recent centuries, both under her stewardship and that of her sister Auro'pol, the previous Matron Mother. The Dyrr knew how to fight.
    For a heartbeat, she entertained other options.
    She could flee the city, but where would she go? Would she become a Houseless vagabond, wandering the Underdark or the outer planes with her hands out? The thought appalled her. She was the Matron Mother of House Agrach Dyrr, one of the great Houses of Menzoberranzan, not some beggar!
    No, she would live or die with her House. She would withstand the siege, find a way to make her House useful to another great House, and ultimately arrange a truce. House Agrach Dyrr would be forced to step down from the Ruling Council, of course, and would have to endure a few centuries of ignominy, but she and it would survive. That was her only goal. The House would climb back onto the council in time.
    But to realize her hope, she needed the lichdrow. Without him, the House would not withstand the siege much longer. She knew that the undead wizard would reincorporate in only a matter of hours so long as his phylactery