Extinction

Valas nodded gravely.

Furious at the deliberate slight, Quenthel drew her whip. She snapped it, and the serpents hissed loudly, splattering venom on a stone floor that had been hastily vacated by Danifae.

"You will address your answers to me," she told Valas. "House Baenre has paid for your services, mercenary, not Sorcere."

"I beg your pardon, Mistress," he said, bowing deeply and addressing her in a suitably chastised voice. "Ah. . what was your question?"

Pharaun turned abruptly away, suddenly interested in placing his spellbooks back into his pack.

What creatures might we face? Hsiv prompted.

Quiet! Quenthel thought back. I can ask my own questions. Then, out loud, she added, "What will we have to fight, this time?"

Rising from his bow, Valas met her eye.

"Wraiths," he said. "Dozens of them."

That made Quenthel pause. Wraiths were dangerous creatures; shadowy, incorporeal. Their slightest touch could drain a living creature's vitality in an instant, and even magical healing would not restore it. Those drained entirely by wraiths became undead themselves, rising as twisted caricatures of their former selves to feed on their own kind. Few ordinary drow had seen a wraith?let alone several dozen of the shadowy creatures?and survived to speak of it.

And that was what Quenthel had been reduced to after all, an ordinary drow. Had Lolth not been silent, Quenthel could have used her magic to drive the creatures back from her, blowing them away like rags in a wind, but without it, she was as powerless against them as any other drow. The thought of facing several of the creatures without being able to turn them made her shiver.

Then she reminded herself that the fate of the drow race hung in the balance. She had to find the ship of chaos?it offered her the only chance she had to reach the Abyss and find out what had happened to Lolth. And that meant reaching the Lake of Shadows. Then, once Lolth restored her magic to the drow, Quenthel could return to Menzoberranzan in triumph. She might, perhaps, even depose Triel and claim the throne of the most powerful House in the city.

Yes, Hsiv thought. You were meant to rule. You must succeed.

Ignoring him, Quenthel returned her attention to Valas.

"Tell me more about the portal," she ordered. "How do you know of it?"

With a slight bow, Valas answered, "I heard about it from a rogue?an odd little fellow who hailed from Gracklstugh. He learned of a vault under Myth Dra

Quenthel listened, nodding.

"Did any of the wraiths follow him through the portal?" she asked.

"No. According to the rogue, it would admit only living creatures."

Quenthel thought a moment then asked, "Did he see anything that might have been the ship of chaos?"

Valas shook his head and replied, "Nothing that he mentioned to me. But the Lake of Shadows is wide?as large across as Lake Thoroot?and deep. If the ship sank, there'd be nothing to see."

"This rogue told you there were 'dozens' of wraiths?" she asked.

Valas nodded and said, "Those were his very words."

"An exaggeration, no doubt. What race was he?"

Valas frowned.

"The rogue?" he asked. "He claimed to be human, even though he was no taller than a duergar."

"Humans," Quenthel snorted. "A cowardly race. There were probably less than half a dozen wraiths, all told. With Pharaun's spells?and our magical weapons?we'll easily be able to fight our way through."

Valas opened his mouth?perhaps to protest that even half a dozen wraiths were too many?but he closed it a moment later.

Quenthel, meanwhile, took mental stock of the resources she had at hand. Valas, whose speed and stealth would allow him to get behind the wraiths and dispatch them with his magical daggers. Pharaun, with his arsenal of powerful protective spells. Jeggred, who would protect Quenthel at any cost, hurling himself headlong at the wraiths, if the need arose. And Danifae. .

Quenthel paused, considering. What good was the battle-captive, really? Oh, she groveled sweetly when threatened and gave pleasure readily enough, but Quenthel sometimes noticed a look in Danifae's eyes that she didn't like. Not at all.

Still, Danifae was a competent enough fighter, when she had o be. The morningstar she carried was no mere boy's weapon. If it came to it, Danifae could be abandoned to the wraiths, if the need arose to sacrifice someone. Truth be told, Quenthel would rather be rid of Pharaun?though she had to admit that his expertise with demons was going to come in handy, once the ship of chaos was finally located.

No, she'd have to make sure that Pharaun survived the encounter with the wraiths. Which meant making sure that if Danifae's life was threatened, the mage didn't try to defend her.

"We'll get by the wraiths," Quenthel told the others. "We'll reach the portal." Then, silently, so only the serpents could hear, she added, Or at the very least, some of us will.

Chapter Twenty-four

Gromph strode through one of the main corridors of Sorcere, followed closely by Kyorli, who scurried along behind him, and Prath, staggering under a load of spellbooks that Gromph had hastily assembled. Since the duergar had been driven back from Tier Breche, and the tu

As he hurried along, Gromph held a circle of copper wire close to his lips.

"Wizards of House Baenre," he called, speaking through the enchanted wire. "Attend me at once in the scrying chamber."

The wire hummed, sending a tingle through Gromph's fingertips. Then it glowed a dull red and crumbled. Flicking flakes of copper from his fingers, Gromph pushed open the heavy double doors of the scrying chamber and stepped inside.

Like the rest of Sorcere, the walls of the large, circular chamber were lined with lead sheeting and plastered with a stucco made from gorgon's blood and spellstone dust. Runes had been embossed upon the surface and limned in gold to further prevent against unwanted intrusion or observation. No spellcaster, no matter how powerful, could teleport past them or probe the minds of the students and masters inside.

It was possible, however, to see out from there, thanks to an enormous crystal ball that floated at the center of the room. Into the sphere had been magically bound one eye of the eagle that resided in a gilded cage just below the crystal sphere. As Gromph and Prath entered the room, the eagle flapped its wings and gave a screee of excitement, blinking its one remaining eye. The sphere above it turned, rotating to face the two drow. The eagle's second eye, which filled the crystal ball from side to side, fixed them with a hungry stare.

Or rather, it fixed upon Kyorli. Snapping its beak, the eagle screeed a second time and hurled itself against the bars of its cage. The rat, taunting it, sat back on her haunches no more than a pace from the cage and groomed her whiskers, ignoring the frenzied wing flapping of the eagle.

Kyorli, stop it, Gromph ordered. Come here.

Obeying the telepathic command, Kyorli dropped to all fours and scurried back to her master. Climbing swiftly up Gromph's piwafwi, she settled herself on his shoulder, tickling his ear with her whiskers. Prath, meanwhile, stooped to place the spellbooks he'd been carrying on the floor.