Matron Ardulace gave a widely wicked smile as she stood upon the highest of her House's balconies. Her daughters stood in rank behind her, from her prized First Daughter Sablith to her rogue Fifth Daughter Sirkrysalla. The city of Sh'damna spread out before her; normally the sounds of a sleepless city would drift up to her ever-sharp ears, but it seemed today everything was hushed. Holding its breath.

It was not often that any ruling House issued a summons, let alone one to the whole city. Who could refuse her great House? Even as she looked down, she could see the Matron of the First House impatiently leering upward, floating on her dais with her favoured daughters and house wizard. She slowly sucked in her breath, savouring the moment as she looked down upon the other Matron. Not even the ruling house could deny, it he been House Kilsek that had led the drow to final victory over the moon elves. It had been their plan, their work and not one breathing moon elf had been left alive. Now the city was waiting, waiting to see what House Kilsek had in store for them.

The ruling Houses above her couldn't deny that they clung to power by a thread; they all knew Matron Ardulace had the most valuable weapon any Matron in the history of the Underdark had ever possessed. Her patron, her weapons master, her House wizard who served her with the utter devotion of Selvetarm bowing his head to his Mistress Lolth. Indeed, the Spider Queen had blessed her with the greatest weapon of all, Calix Ssambra, and she felt the pride seep into her skin as she felt her weapon's presence move up beside her.

She turned her eyes to look at him but refused to shift her head, glancing to that lovely stoic face that had followed at her side for decades like a precious pet. Her champion, her most prized possession, a male born of nothing from a family that was good for nothing but marching in an army. His armour, draped with the deep red robes that marked him as an utter servant of Selvetarm, made him look taller than he was; he appeared to overshadow her even if he was barely her height. A tight braid kept his long hair strictly down his back, showing the strange way it grew out from pitch black at the roots, seeming to fade almost immediately into a crisp, toneless bone white. The effect of severity was ruined by the bangs that curled and twisted as if cut from the rest of his staunchly straight hair by a match and framed out his sour face in careless layers.

His expression was vacant, as it always seemed to be. A tight-lipped face that hid everything behind the broad scars over his eyes. They bore the shape of two nearly perfect handprints seared into his flesh. When he’d come back from the surface wars with the marks upon his face he claimed that Eilistraee herself had tried to touch him and left the marks where she had laid her hands. They had burned his flesh to the core; such was the trickery of the weak goddess. Never once did he cover them, never once did he flinch at a mirror. He called them his 'Marks of Eilistraee,' proof to all drow of how she was cunning enough to even attempt fooling the most loyal of Lolth's servants and what would happen to them should the blasphemous goddess try to touch them. After all, he was Selvetarm incarnate and it was Lolth's will to show her people the burning lies of the surface. Ardulace humored that his mask of scars only served to make him look more statuesque in his perfectly still position.

If it weren't for those eyes. They seemed to move slowly without moving at all. They would appear to jump and never shift, with wide pupils and bloody red irises that stood out like a shock against the deep shadows of his face.

She turned away. Those eyes chilled her still, sending delicious shivers up her spine; it made him look like a waiting spider, holding still, ready to kill the first thing that touched his widespread web. She could remember seeing those eyes for the first time. The day that stoic face had locked eyes with hers. How chilling that little face had been when it had looked upon her for the first time.

---

He crouched before her in the throne room, picking at the stone of the floor, his small face turned down to watch his stubby child fingers as if drawing on the floor were infinitely more entertaining than the woman on the throne before him. Losing her temper she'd slammed her hand down onto the throne's arm. "You will speak when spoken to, male!" she had screamed wildly. Everyone in the room had shuddered with the force. Even her first daughter that always stood steady at her side stepped back. The boy had done nothing, absorbed in his own being.

"Answer me!" came her shrill voice and her fingernails grated on the stone of her heightened chair.

"Matron Mother, he is only a child," her first daughter had said in her low, icy calm. "He is still too young to understand that ..."

"Silence!" she'd demanded, quickly raising her whip levelly at the other high priestess. "You will not speak out of turn, Sablith. I don't care what kind of power you wield. Don't you think for a moment I don't remember that useless whelp is your younger brother. You remember, Daughter, that I was good enough to take in your pitiful House and give you this rank because of your skills. It would do you well to be reminded that I am no longer childless ... they can fill your place just as well as your corpse. I will not have you defend a male! I don't care if he is a child, he has driven my servants and his own wean mother from the temple with his nonsense and I will know why!" her wrath refocused itself on the boy with a vicious crack of her snake-headed whip. "Now speak, young blasphemer!"

Still, the boy didn't move.

"You heard the Matron, boy, speak!" Sablith snarled, stepping up to the line drawn for her. "So help me, Calix, answer her! Brother or not I will rend you myself!"

The boy's eyes suddenly darted up, fast as any spider, all his movement abruptly halting. Ardulace had seen a thousand, maybe millions of red eyes over her years, but never once had she seen eyes like this. He head hadn't moved an inch but she knew every bit of his attention was upon her, leaking from those unholy demonic eye like venom.

There was a profound silence as if suddenly everyone in the room felt what she did. Even Sablith drew in her breath, recoiling at the harshly focused gaze. Ardulace gritted her teeth as the red somehow to cut into her and she was glad his critical rage was locked on Sablith, as if completely insulted she should dare speak to him. Then suddenly, without even a twitch, the eyes were on her, biting at her soul. The coldness filled her, the utter contempt that seemed to leak like a dark aura from where the child crouched on the floor, bathing the place in silence. Abruptly his head jerked, startling her, though he only tipped it slightly to his left.

A sound seemed to pass though the room; maybe she had imagined it ... a brief, fast clicking, like the chitin of spider running over its web. A haunting whisper that was there and gone. "I answer to only my mistress," he said, soft and low. The power of the tone was dashed by the small voice of a child. He dropped his eyes again, going back to scratching the floor.

She was not about to admit she was grateful for the boy's change in attention. It gave her the will to once again find where her pride had been forced to hide, calling on the embarrassment to rekindle her rage. "I am your Mistress!" she snapped, "I am your Matron and you will obey me and keep your eyes down like every other common trash brought before my throne."

"Lolth is my Matron," Calix quickly corrected her, turning his head to survey whatever he was doing from another angle, white hair falling over his shoulders to show its twisted dark roots. He looked at her, his gaze burning straight into hers as if to challenge her decree. "Not you. I answer only to the Spider Queen, I bow only to the will of the Dark Mother. I am her champion."

Ardulace cast a critical look at Sablith, unable to look at him any longer and lashing out at the other high priestess instead. The first daughter merely gazed at the boy, brows furrowed as if trying to make sense of this. "Is he off his head, Sablith? Is this why your house deemed him a failure as a newborn? How does he, so young, know the names of the Goddess?"

The priestess opened her mouth but then closed it, holding her hands up helplessly, "No, I ... I don't know. He was supposed to be a draegloth but instead he ..." she paused and trailed off. Calix seemed to catch this, his head quickly cocking once more, looking at his sister. Her lips furrowed as she stared back and the Matron wondered how Sablith could stand under that gaze without even a blink. "He was just a common weak male. A failure. I don't know how he knows the names. As far as I know he's never been taught - all of his caretakers have been frightened away."

The boy seemed amused by this, a wry smile coming over his features, seeming to take delight in the discomfort about him. Once again Ardulace thought that the voice should sound so much older, but it echoed back insultingly as the ring of a child. "Selvetarm." he cooed in a mockingly tender tone at the first daughter before looking down at the floor once more. "The Spider That Waits tells me. He tells me many things."

Sablith audibly sucked in her breath; the hand servants in the room drew back and stiffened, a whisper spreading up amongst them. Ardulace flinched, but quickly hid the movement by pulling her lips back in a snarl. Her eyes narrowed on the boy who had once more shut out the world. He'd been a child of House Ssambra, before she had taken him into her own.

It was openly known that the Ssambras had taken their power from both The Dark Mother and Lolth’s Champion, but for eight years the Spider That Waits had gone silent. Neither a whisper nor spell had passed the minds of his clerics and in fear of losing their place, Matron Sablith of the small House Ssambra threw herself on the mercy of House Kilsek; Ardulace had welcomed them. Missing god or not, the House had a formidable army of fighters all following the Spider That Waits and his bloodthirsty will to serve Lolth, and that was nothing but good for her. For eight years, Selvetarm had seemed dead and now this boy who knew nothing yet of their faith, dared speak his name and titles?

She rose from her throne, her hands coming up to gesture for silence and once more the place sounded of death. Gripping her whip tightly, she stepped down to glower before the child, the snakes coiling lovingly about her arm and her shadow falling over his shape. Quickly, she whispered sacred words that would render all in her presence unable to lie. She dropped her eyes, watching the lowly male child scratching away at the floor; her tone became hushed and low, "Calix, how old are you?"

He paused then looked up at her, head turning this way and that. She fancied the way his bottom lip shifted slowly to give him the edge of a spider clicking its mandibles when dissolving a meal. "Eight," he said briefly and smiled, so cunningly that it seemed surreal, "Like the legs of a spider. The forms of my Mistress."

She drew in her breath, refusing to allow herself to crumble before this boy. This inferior male youth. "Who has told you to say these things? You tell me now, male, and I will spare your miserable life," she knew very well he would not be able to lie. If someone had indeed put the child up to this blasphemy she would know who, then kill them both for the insolence.

Calix slowly tipped his head upward. Something about the way his body seemed to move and shudder with a grand sigh made her think he was fighting the urge to lash out at her simply for fun, but he only gave her a degrading look with his sharp evil eyes. A rock chip held in his little cut fingers tapped idolly against the floor where a crude drawing of a spider was etched lightly into the floor, two streaks of red crossing over its top, one tapped and crossed at the top, the other blotted heavily at the end and smeared. "Selvetarm," he repeated, as if she were dumb, "He feels the whisper of the Mistress and he tells me her will."

For a long moment she didn't know what to do, looking down at the child who looked back at her with a stillness that spoke of a silent hatred-filled patience. She turned away, allowing the room to fill once again with whispers and wonder and letting Sablith be the one to roar the threats she didn't feel like making as she curled her hand thoughtfully under her chin. "What is Lolth's will, Calix?" she said finally, eyes intent on the boy. This silenced the room and Sablith turned abruptly, watching for the response, but the boy did nothing. He only gazed at Ardulace as if she were stupid. "What is Lolth's will!!" she demanded, slamming her hand down to make a loud crack of her whip, her patience long run out. Calix blinked his eyes slowly, resting them on Sablith.

"Answer your Matron," Sablith said slowly, with a low challenging tone, focusing on the boy. He watched her a moment, then slowly rose to his feet, head down and rocking his weight rather than use his hands to pick himself up. Allowing himself to find his balance by a slow haunting swing, he lifted his head in a lazy loll. He set his feet firmly apart, hands balanced at his side and his chin up. The posture would have looked stunning on a warrior, Ardulace mused; a quiet, full-bodied strength and power that seemed impossible for such a young child to have.

His red eyes settled on Ardulace, but this time they didn't seem to sear into her. Instead she found a quiet intrigue in them that seemed to pull at her, drawing out her deepest desires. She lifted her head, turning her gaze down, letting her green eyes lock onto the imploring red ones.

"Lolth's will is this," he said crisply, little head bobbing with his small, light voice, "She has been displeased by the tenth House Mylyl and has stripped them of her favour. As we speak they rush vainly to restore themselves. But my Mistress' anger is great. She demands that they be crippled for their sins. Lolth demands that House Kilsek prove their worth as keepers of her great gift and that House Mylyl will not exist past the end of her next great ritual."

Ardulace knelt down levelly with the boy, her elbows resting lightly on her knees as they gazed back and forth, appraising each other with an unspoken delight. "This great gift knows how I can do this, I suppose, our House being only fifteenth."

A soft laugh passed his lips; it seemed to echo the faint sound she heard before, the staccato of a rushing spider only now it filled her with a deep, dark, thrill. Tiny hands came up to cup her cheek with all the innocence of an uneducated child - or a bold, fearless man. "Yes, Matron Ardulace. I am Selvetarm and I will be your champion."

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, a swell of pride coming up in her chest and she flexed her fingers with a deep-seeded greed at the opportunity before her. "Then fall it shall, Little Selvetarm." she drew back and in a sudden strike, the back of her hand came harshly across his face, the snakes of the whip held on, digging their fangs deep into his skin as she ripped it backward. A cry went up and the room turned into an uproar but if the blow had shaken him he didn't show it, even if it had turned him halfway about, his blood splattering. "I am still Lolth's highest, male, and you are her servant. You will never be so insolent to me again."

He turned his head back to her, a thoughtful smile on his little face but his eyes bowed respectfully and he let out a long content sigh, shifting his injured shoulder making the wound crack, further bringing forth another soft sound, "Of course not, Matron Mother," He liquidly dropped to his knees upon the symbol he had drawn, the smile never faltering as he bowed his head to her feet.

House Mylyl was a faded memory by the time the great ritual started.

---

Since then, so had many more. Cities, towns, even an entire race had fallen before their wake. Such was the gift given to her in the shape of a child now long grown into a finely cut man who held the strict pose with perfect form rather than the awkwardness of a child. He was indeed a gift from Lolth to the drow, to House Kilsek.

Matron Ardulace held her hands outward over the crowd gathered in the city below, a magical charm empowering her voice to carry, "My people, we have brought ourselves further than any of our mothers could have imagined! We have altered the face of the surface and now change is coming to us again!" the drow and their vast array of accompanying creatures below raised their heads. The rulers of the other Houses that had appeared on their drift disks all shifted, some in fear, others with a hunger for more blood that this house always seemed to promise.

A cruel smile crossed her lips; how she enjoyed this place, this absolute glory with all attention rapt on her. It grew wider when Calix's arms draped themselves tenderly over her shoulders, his face pressing into the back of her neck. She opened her mouth to speak again ... and then she choked.

Nothing would come out. Calix's fingers dug deep into sides and she gasped, her voice was gone. Everything seemed to be gone. Her spells, her power, her abilities ... all of them seemed to vanish like a great icy wind had blown across her soul, leaving her numb from the inside out.

"That's right, Matron," he sing-songed against her ear, pressing his scar masked skin to hers. Then another sound came, loud and eager, a great spider rushing over its web to devour the thing that'd fallen prey to it. "A great change is coming," he gathered her up in his arms carefully, like a mother would take up a child to marvel at the horror etching into her face. The crowd looked at each other in confusion, wondering what was happening. Ardulace twisted her head franticly, trying to find her voice to call for Sablith. Calix shook her gently, his expression mocking and cold. "Come now Mistress, take what you need and let's be done with it."

Ardulace narrowed her eyes in question and she pushed against his strength but it was like being caught in a vice grip and for all her flailing, he didn't budge, seemingly amused at the fact she would even try to struggle. Her answer came quickly enough when Sablith took a smooth step forward, jerking Ardulace's snake whip from her hand and snatching her house insignia from her throat. If she could have found her voice she would have sworn but it was all she could do to twist vainly, scratching at the male who held her so tightly, pinning her hands to her side.

"There you are, my Champion." Sablith smiled, stroking her brother's hair like he was her most cherished pet. Calix arched his shoulders, letting his head drift toward the touch with a sound something like a happy hiss, then lolled it back to look at the woman in his arms.

"I do love the faces you make, Matron," he teased, once again holding her close to him. She snarled as best she could. Why was it that nothing seemed to function? Why had even the magic items she has so carefully set in place for such an event suddenly appear to be useless? Calix only smiled, his red eyes burning into her like they always did, looking like he would devour her at any moment. "Of course you realize," he said blandly, "this has always been Lolth's will." she shivered. Lolth's will? Hadn't it been Lolth's will that he answered to her?

"You heard the Matron, boy, speak! So help me, Calix, answer her! Brother or not I will rend you myself!"

"I answer to only my mistress."

No, he answered to Sablith. It had always been her, from the first words he had spoken in their presence. Sablith was the one Lolth had told her Champion to obey and Sablith had known it. She had seen it when his eyes first fell on her, that he was waiting for her decree to speak the words Selvetarm had to say. He had listened to her, followed her every order without question. It had been Sablith who ordered him to speak and he had. Sablith who had commanded that he obey and he bowed before the Matron. How many other things over the years had Sablith silently instructed him to do? How many years had they been waiting to see the current Matron fall?

Her green eyes looked up into his pools of murderous red, a wicked grin curled onto his lips that normally sat in their cold flat line, a cunning eagerness, a vicious lust. She could see it then, how The Spider That Waits had craved every minute in a patient hunt. Every battle, every plan had only been to sate his bloodlust in his constant strain under Lolth.

"We are all Lolth's food, Matron." he assured her quietly, "Believe me, it is not Sablith I obey. It is the Dark Mother. I follow her completely. You can tell yourself you should have been more aware and not blinded by pride, but that’s how it had to be for us to succeed in her chaos. We are all her pawns, Matron, and she tells her Champion that your usefulness is now over."

He could see the panic etched onto her features. The humiliation as the memories crashed into her, all the years he had been at her side, all the things he had done. And yet, his steps were so firm, so solid, he did it without question. So completely did he serve his true Mistress, the great Dark Mother.

Calmly he stood at the decorative railing of the balcony, the numbed woman in his arms, ushered silent and useless by his magic. His sisters let their smiles widen, watching everything unfold. Sablith turned the insignia over and over in her hand with a wicked laugh, the family had no need for the Houses resources anymore, not with a city before them. With an effortless flick of his arms she was gone from his grasp, toppling down the stories of the fortress that rose up from the city's floor, coming to rest with sickening smack on the stone turrets that led up to the gate. “This House," he decreed coldly, dropping his steely gaze downward to feed on the sight of the blood pooling far below, "is once again House Ssambra."

The city suddenly went wild with motion, daises clamoured to life, all manners of creatures started scattering in every direction as long as it was far from the unceremoniously overthrown House. For a moment he stood there, drinking it in with a flat-lipped smile, letting it feed the growing power inside of him, stirring the demon that ruled his soul. Then he raised his head from the delightful splattered sight and held up a hand. "Hear me!" his voice scorched through the chaotic crowd and one by one, their heads raised. When he spoke, his voice cut across the city, its sound piercing deep and strong into the hearts of the ones below him, bringing awe and fear from the audience holding to the will of their Goddess' warrior. He let his eyes cast over the rapt people, then to the drift disks floating one by one holding up their stunned Matrons. His own new Matron to serve stepped up to his side. "Now you've all seen what happens to the weak. This is what your Dark Goddess decrees as her law, this is her will! We all fail before Lolth and she keeps none but her strongest. Nothing will stand in the way of what she desires. We are her chosen, we are her people, and now our Dark Mother has given us a new decree so we can have our share of her victory. With her voice among us we rule without question in the Underdark, we have made ourselves not one but two places in the Night Above. We have felt the blood of our blasphemous surface kin and seen every last moon elf dead. It is only a taste of the blood waiting to be spilled."

"What would you have us do, Child of Selvetarm?" The Matron of the First House yelled, her eyes narrowed as she rose to her feet. "What is it the Spider Queen demands?"

A thrill snaked up his back, making a shudder pass under his skin as if something shifted eagerly and it made a smile come to his face as he moved with it, taking his mace and sword from their places and holding them crossed before him. "She demands the surface. She demands we have everything."