Maestro Read Online Free Page B

because Yvonnel lifted her up with just that one hand, so easily hoisted her from the floor.
    A pinprick of light broke the darkness—perhaps the tunnel to the Demonweb Pits and eternity.
    But that pinprick widened, and Quenthel felt as if cool waters poured over the burning venom coursing in her veins. It was impossible! No spell could defeat that amount of deadly poison so quickly.
    But the light widened and Quenthel realized that she was in her chair again, in her throne, the throne of the matron mother. And there was the young woman, Yvonnel, staring at her, smiling at her.
    “Do you understand now?” Yvonnel asked.
    Quenthel’s mind wheeled—she was terrified that Yvonnel was reading her every thought. She should be dead. The poison of any of her snakes would kill a dark elf. The repeated bites of all five would kill a dark elf in mere moments.
    “You live,” Yvonnel answered the obvious question. “Yet no priestess could have administered enough healing, divine or alchemical, to pull you back from the death brought by your snakes’ venom.”
    Quenthel’s eyes widened as her gaze drifted lower, as her eyes focused on the scourge, her scourge, that Yvonnel carried. The five snakes wrapped lovingly around Yvonnel’s beautiful black arms.
    “Fear not, I will fashion my own scourge,” Yvonnel explained. “Indeed, I look forward to it.”
    “Who are you?”
    “You know.”
    Quenthel shook her head helplessly.
    “You wonder why you are alive,” said Yvonnel. “Of course you do! Why would you not? Wouldn’t I be better served to let you die? Oh, I see,” she said with a perfectly evil grin. “You fear that I saved you from the snake poison so that I might make your death even more painful!”
    Despite herself, Quenthel began to tremble and to gasp for air.
    “Perhaps it will come to that, but it need not,” said Yvonnel. “You are fortunate, in that I do not wish to yet reveal myself to the Ruling Council and the city, and thus, I desire your services. You see, for all who look upon House Baenre, you will remain the matron mother. Only you and I will know better.”
    She paused there and cast a grin at Quenthel. “You do know better,” she said.
    Quenthel swallowed hard.
    “Who am I?” Yvonnel asked, and those five snake heads of Quenthel’s scourge unwrapped from the girl’s arm and came up hissing and swaying ominously, reaching Quenthel’s way.
    “The dau—” Quenthel started to reply, but stopped when she noted Qorra, the third and most potent viper, moving to strike.
    “Think carefully,” Yvonnel said. “Prove to me that you are not too stupid to properly serve my needs.”
    Quenthel forced herself to close her eyes, to reach into the memories and wisdom of Yvonnel the Eternal.
    “Take your time, my aunt, my sibling, my daughter. Who am I?”
    Quenthel opened her eyes. “You are the Matron Mother of Menzoberranzan.”
    The girl’s smile sent a thousand waves of warmth cascading through Quenthel, and the snakes slithered back into the loving embrace of Yvonnel’s arm.
    “Only you and I will know that,” Yvonnel explained. “Prove your worth to me. I will be in need of powerful high priestesses, of course, and perhaps a new headmistress of Arach-Tinilith. Are you worthy of such a position?”
    Quenthel wanted to reply, indignantly, that she was already the matron mother. How could she not be worthy?
    But she said no such thing. She nodded meekly, and accepted the scourge when this young woman, this mere girl, handed it back to her.
    “Other Houses hold you in contempt,” Yvonnel explained, walking aside as Quenthel composed herself and straightened in her throne. “They hold the name Baenre in contempt. That cannot hold, of course. They will conspire, and if those conspiracies come to fruition, you will be their target, for now at least.” She spun gracefully on her heel, her smile wide. “Perhaps they will kill you,” she said happily. “But perhaps not. And in that event,