Lolth's red eyes smoldered with fury. The hand that gripped the side of her throne tightened until it turned ashen gray. Beside her, Selvetarm hunkered down on his eight hairy legs, ready to rend Eilistraee at her command. His drow head twisted back and forth, and his sword and mace fairly quivered in his hands. His fangs were spread wide, dripping poison onto the board. A drop of it splattered the head of Lolth's Mother piece and dribbled down its obsidian-dark contours.

Lolth shot her champion a foul look. "Apologize!"

Selvetarm returned her glare for several moments in stony silence. At last words wrenched themselves out of his mouth, a dark mutter, barely audible. "Forgive me."

Eilistraee watched the exchange with a serenity born of certainty. She would win the game, or at least the current play. "A sacrifice," she said. "I claim it now." She moved her Priestess piece to the spot on the board Lolth had just left bare-the spot where Selvetarm's drider-shaped Warrior piece had stood before Lolth picked it up.

"Priestess takes Warrior," Eilistraee announced, nodding at the piece in Lolth's hand.

Lolth hissed. Rage as she might, she was bound by her oath.

Ao himself was watching.

The Spider Queen's fingers tightened around the Warrior piece. One of its spider legs cracked. As it did, Selvetarm stumbled and clutched at Lolth's throne. His drow head swiveled toward Lolth, eyes wide with loathing-and with fear.

"No," he shouted.

Two more of the piece's legs splintered. Two more of Selvetarm's legs gave way.

"I am your Champion," the god roared, brandishing his weapons. "You can't-"

"I must." Lolth's eyes were as cold as extinguished coals. "And I will. Gladly. You are no champion of mine-traitor."

A push of her thumb, and the neck of the piece snapped. The head fell.

Selvetarm gave a strangled gurgle as his own neck broke. His head fell with a heavy thud to the middle of the sava board, rattling the pieces. Several fell over then vanished.

Lolth dropped the broken Warrior piece to the floor, next to the corpse of her former Champion. She flicked away a piece of leg that clung to her web-sticky hand. A second gesture levitated Selvetarm's head from the board. The blood had drained from it and been subsumed into the World Tree. Selvetarm's face was slack and gray, his mouth drooling open.

"A trophy for your victory?" Lolth asked her daughter, her voice flat and emotionless.

Eilistraee shook her head, her lips tight. "How far you have fallen, Weaver. He was your grandchild."

Anger rekindled in Lolth's eyes at the use of her former title. She tossed Selvetarm's head behind her and settled back onto her throne. "You also have fallen, daughter," she said in a soft voice. "You also, and it's my move."

Eilistraee nodded. The game would continue.

Continue, until only one player remained.

Casually, as if she cared nothing for what had just happened, Lolth pushed a piece forward then eased into a reclining position once more. She used a Slave piece, shoved into a vulnerable position, where it was certain to be taken.

Eilistraee wasn't about to fall for that a second time. She studied the board carefully, wondering which of her hundreds of thousands of pieces to move next. The Priestess that had just forced Selvetarm's sacrifice? From where it stood, it could easily take out any of a dozen of Lolth's Slaves. No, she decided. That piece was too powerful to waste on any of those moves. She would save it for later.

She looked around for the Wizard that had taken Lolth's Slave a moment before, but that piece seemed to have temporarily removed itself from the board.

It would be back, Eilistraee was certain, but on which side?

No matter, there were thousands of other pieces equally as powerful.

Swords humming contentedly at her hips, Eilistraee studied the sava board, lost in contemplation. Her next move should be something unexpected, something devious enough to take Lolth completely off guard, an attack from behind-from the shadows.

As Eilistraee pondered, one of her hands strayed to a piece at the side of the board, the Slave her Wizard had captured-the Slave that was not a slave, nor even a cleric, but something more.

Vhaeraun. Her brother.

She sighed-a sound that was picked up by the swords at her hips and turned into a mournful dirge. As sigh turned into song, something fluttered against her face.

A square of black, so thin as to be almost invisible.

Vhaeraun's mask.

About the Author

Lisa Smedman is the author of five SHADOWRUN(r) novels: The Lucifer Deck, Blood Sport, Psycholrope, The Forever Drug, and Tails You Lose. She also wrote the novel The Playback War, set in FASA's VOR: THE MAELSTROM(r) universe.

Lisa has had a number of short science fiction and fantasy stories published in various magazines and anthologies, and has had two of her plays produced. In 1993 she was a finalist in the Writers of the Future contest.

Formerly a magazine editor, she now splits her week between working as a reporter/editor at a weekly newspaper and writing fiction. When not working or gaming, she enjoys hiking and camping with a women's outdoor club and collects stamps that illustrate the space race. She lives in Vancouver with her partner, and spends much of her time catering to the needs of their "blended family" of cats.