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n't chastise us if the results of the test are inconclusive。 That wouldn't be an honest inquiry。〃
〃Agreed；〃 the mistress said。
Drisinil was bewildered and appalled。 This strange； passive procedure sounded as if it could take hours。 She needed the antidote before her thunnotdering heart tore itself apart； but she could do nothing to speed things along。
Though plainly just as puzzled as she； the pany obediently fell quiet。 Meditation was a familiar practice to all of them； though frustrating and futile since Lolth had receded beyond their ken。
For what seemed a long while； nothing happened； except that a muscle under Drisinil's eye twitched uncontrollably； and some of those whom she'd betrayed surreptitiously glared at her； wordlessly vowing revenge。 A tiny something scurried across the floor。 Or perhaps it did。 By the time she tried to focus on it； it was gone。
More minutes crawled by。 Cloth whispered as someone shifted position。 Later； somebody else smothered a little sneeze。 Drisinil realized she could just barely smell the ghost of the funereal incense Lirdnolu had burned when teaching necromancy。
Another mite scuttled along。 Drisinil saw that this one was a spider。 Nothing unusual in that。 Arach…Tinilith was full of the sacred creatures。 Still； something about this particular specimen tugged at her despite her sickness and terror。 She stared until she discerned that it had a blue shell with red markings。
That was a little odd。 This particular species generally spent its time lurking in webs； not roaming about。 Still； she didn't see why the anomaly should trigger a twinge of alarm。 It must be the poison clawing at her nerves。
Time dragged on。 A priestess on the lowest tier sang a hymn under her breath。 She was flat。 Another novice with mutilated hands surreptitiously checked the knife strapped under her sleeve； making sure the weapon was loose in the sheath。 And； Drisinil noticed； more black dots were creeping on the walls and floor。 More than were normal for a disused part of the temple？ She thought so； and she glanced over at Quenthel； seeking some sign to confirm her formless suspicions。 The Baenre stood motionless with head bowed； the very picture of a mystic absorbed in her devotions。
A novice with a gold earring cried out in pain。 She dragged on her shirt； baring her right shoulder； and found the spider that was biting her。 Her frantic efforts to remove the arachnid without hurting it should have been ical but Drisinil couldn't laugh。 Frazzled； addled by the poison； she could only stare at the dark flecks swarming thickly on every side。 Some of the other conspirators had started to notice as well。 They whispered to one another； and their eyes grew wide。
Something brushed Drismil's arm。 She cried out and spun around。 It was one of the Quenthel's vipers that had touched her。
〃Stay close；〃 the mistress said。
Once again； the spiders increased in number。 Somehow hordes of them were scuttling over the bodies of the conspirators； biting； crawling under their clothing； freckling their skins like the sores of some hideous plague。 Shrieking； no longer caring that the creatures were sacrosanct； their vicnottims struggled to crush them and brush them off； but they couldn't get them all。 A few of the traitors retained the presence of mind to activate protective talismans； only to discover that the magic didn't help； either。
The one place free of spiders was the upper tiers。 Once they realized the creatures weren't going climb up and attack them； the loyalists mocked and jeered at the plight of the traitors。 Whenever one of the plotters tried to grope her way i