Dissolution

For an instant, it looked as if Faeryl would protest, and Jeggred leered down at her. Plainly, something had once transpired between them, an unpleasantness that made the ambassador loathe and mistrust him.

Gromph shifted his weight as well and Quenthel thought he looked surprised, even a bit put out. Perhaps he hadn't thought Triel had sense enough to want her own special agent on the mission, a minion devoted to her particular interests alone. A thousand arguments against her being sent away at so uncertain a time for Menzoberranzan, the faith, House Baenre. . came to Quenthel in a rush. Ultimately, however, she said nothing.

The assembly discussed the practicalities of their scheme for an hour or so, and Triel dismissed her newly appointed emissaries. Pharaun caught up with Quenthel in the antechamber. He bowed to her, and she waved her hand, giving him permission to speak. «I assume, Mistress, that you know why they picked us?» he murmured. «I understand better than you,» she said. Pharaun arched an eyebrow and asked, «Indeed. Will you elucidate?»

She hesitated, but why not state at least the obvious? He had come to her, after all, when the slave revolt began. He was a true drow—ambitious and ruthless enough that she could always trust him to do what was to his advantage. Gromph had made him a decoy and a target, perhaps someday she would make him Archmage of Menzoberranzan. «My brother and sister send us both forth because they fear our ambitions.» «I daresay that's very sensible of them,» Pharaun said. «Does this mean you undertake our errand reluctantly?» «By no means. Whatever my siblings' motives, the plan has merit, and I would go anywhere and do anything to restore my bond with Lolth and save Menzoberranzan; it is of course the same thing.» In fact, she was eager to distance herself from them until such time as she recovered her magic, provided she could do it without a loss of status, and surprisingly, it seemed she could. The matter of the demonic assassins had still not been settled, too, and she wondered if her leaving the city would bring her unknown assailant into the open. She looked her foppish companion up and down. «What of you?» she asked the wizard. «You're brave enough—I've seen the proof—but still, are you eager to march across the Underdark?» «You mean, can an exquisite specimen such as myself bear to dispense with warm, scented baths, succulent meals, and delicate, freshly laundered attire?» Pharaun asked with a grin, «It will be excruciating, but under the circumstances, I'll manage. I enjoy unraveling mysteries, particularly when I suspect I might enhance my personal power thereby.» «Perhaps you will,» Quenthel said, «but I recommend you keep your hands off any prize your leader covets for herself.» «Of course, Mistress, of course.» The Master of Sorcere bowed low.

Pharaun cast a spell, then slipped through the closed door like a ghost. On the other side was a drab, stale-smelling little room. Wrapped in a blanket like an invalid, her scarred face a mask of bitterness, Greya

For an instant, she stared at him stupidly, then started to throw off the cover, presumably with the intent of jumping up. He lifted his hands as if to cast a spell, and the threat froze her in place. «What a dreary habitation,» he said. «It was Sabal's, wasn't it, when her fortunes were at their nadir. Mother has a good memory and a charming sense of irony as well.» «And she'll kill you, outcast, for breaking into the castle.» «I always assumed so. That's one reason I never paid you a visit hitherto. But our circumstances have changed. The Council needs me to help determine what's become of the Spider Queen, and you, dear sib, are no longer a person of any importance. As Miz'ri's demoted you for your repeated failures to kill me, I doubt she'll make an issue of your extinction, even if she's certain I'm responsible. She smiled at me this afternoon when I saw her in House Baenre, can you believe it? She must have decided she'd like me to resign from Sorcere and rejoin the family someday. Evidently she's just realizing how powerful I've become in the decades since you chased me out the door.» «I'm surprised you still want to kill me,» Greya

«I considered that, but I'm going on a journey into the unknown, a quest fraught with peril and adversity to be sure, and I need something special to hearten me, a memory fraught with spectacle and drama to cheer me on the trail.» «I suppose I understand,» the priestess said, «but I wonder why it's come to this. All these years, I've never truly understood the basis for our feud. If I'm to die, will you at least tell me why you chose Sabal over me? Was it fondness? Was it lust?» «Neither,» Pharaun chuckled. «My choice had nothing whatever to do with personalities. How could it, when you twins were so alike? I threw in with Sabal simply because she was dangling from the bottom rung of the Mizzrym ladder. I thought it would be an amusing challenge to lift her to the top.» «Thank you for explaining,» Greya

Knowing how he loved to talk, she'd lulled him with conversation and took him by surprise. The long, thin-bladed sword hurtled across the room toward Pharaun's chest. He frantically shifted to the side, and the point plunged into his left forearm instead. For a second, he couldn't feel the puncture, and it flared with pain. He had to immobilize the weapon or it would pull itself free and attack again.

He grabbed hold of the blade with his right hand, and it sliced into his palm. A rapier was made for thrusting, but it had sharp edges even so. Sharp enough, anyway. At the same instant, Greya

Pharaun narrowly dodged her first swing, then threw himself against her, ramming her with his shoulder. The impact knocked her stumbling backward. It didn't hurt her, though. She laughed and advanced on him again.

He knew why she was so exhilarated. She thought that with his left hand dangling at the end of a spastic arm and the right busy gripping the rapier, he wouldn't be able to cast any appropriate spells to fend her off. And she was right. Edging away from Greya