Extinction

As if in a dream, Uluyara's face swam down toward hers. Fragments of a sentence drifted down into her ears, like falling snow.

"We. . scrying. . found you."

Halisstra felt hands lifting her and for a moment thought that Uluyara was shifting her body so she could remove the Crescent Blade and songsword from her backpack. Then she heard the melody of a prayer?that was Feliane's voice; she must have been here, too?and she felt a tingle of warmth. Halisstra realized that her pack was being removed so Feliane could hold her, warm her with her body. . and her magic. At first she was shocked?then she realized she was still thinking like a drow of the Underdark. Knowing that she was saved, she cried in relief, then she realized she was being selfish.

"Ryld. .," she whispered.

"Don't worry," Feliane said, her voice growing more intelligible as magic flowed into Halisstra, warming her and driving away the icy hand of death. "He's alive. Uluyara is driving the poison from his body even now."

Sighing, Halisstra allowed herself to relax, to drink in the warmth of Feliane's spell. She'd done it?she'd gotten Ryld to safety. And herself. She'd even managed to recover the Crescent Blade. Now all she had to do was kill a goddess with it.

Chapter Thirty-six

Gromph waited in the great chamber of House Baenre's temple, watching through Kyorli's eyes as members of the House guard dragged in prisoners, bound at the ankle and wrist, for execution. A company of soldiers from House Agrach Dyrr had attempted to break out of their compound after House Baenre pulled its troops away to fight the tanarukks, but fortunately soldiers of House Xorlarrin had been able to capture them. House Baenre had claimed its share of the resulting prisoners, who were being «sacrificed» in the temple?for all the good it would do. With the goddess silent, did it really matter?

As yet another captive from House Agrach Dyrr was hustled into the temple?one, unlike the others, not too badly damaged?Gromph stepped into the path of the House guard who was dragging him in and held up a hand. The guard came to an immediate and obedient halt.

"Yes, Archmage?"

Gromph squatted, bringing Kyorli down to the level of the prisoner. Using the rat's eyesight, he stared into the eyes of the captive, who glared defiantly back at him.

Yes. They might just do.

"This captive is not to be exec?sacrificed," he told the guard. "Take him to Sorcere, instead, and deliver him to Master Nauzhror. Tell the master that I require the battle-captive … for my own purposes."

From deeper in the temple?behind the adamantine doors that led to Lolth's inner temple?came a high, sharp scream, followed by a drow voice pleading. Slaves, meanwhile, carried the body of the last soldier to have been executed past the spot where Gromph stood and flung it outside at the feet of a riding lizard. A moment later Gromph heard a crunching, gulping noise?the sound of the lizard enjoying its victory feast.

The prisoner looked back and forth between the body being consumed by the lizard and Gromph, as if trying to decide which was the lesser evil.

"Thank you, Archmage," the Dyrr cousin said. "I'll serve you well."

Gromph smiled and said, "Perhaps you will. Part of you, anyway." Then, standing, he addressed the guard. "Take him away."

As he waited for the «sacrifices» to end, Gromph craned his head back and squinted up at the temple ceiling. Using Kyorli's eyesight, he could see movement?the quick scurrying of the spiders whose webs filled the great dome above?but no detail. The webs were a white haze, their lines indistinct. Kyorli could see only a limited distance. Rats relied more upon smell and whisker touch than they did on eyesight.

Gromph would have to be careful. Triel had learned from Andzrel about what had happened to Gromph. But for the time being she had been fooled by Gromph's assurance that the potions had fully restored his vision. Like the other nobles of House Baenre, she took no notice of Kyorli?the familiar often rode on Gromph's shoulder?but if she learned that the Archmage of Menzoberranzan was blind, she could deem him weak. And the weak?in House Baenre, as in all the noble Houses of Menzoberranzan?were swiftly dispensed with.

Keeping that in mind, Gromph turned as he heard footsteps approaching from behind the adamantine doors. Looking through Kyorli's eyes, he picked Triel out from among the priestesses who fanned out into the great chamber.

"Matron Mother," he said, bowing deeply. "I have news. Good news."

Triel strode over to where he stood. Whiskers tickled Gromph's cheek as Kyorli strained forward, sniffing eagerly. Gromph saw lines or red crisscrossing the matron mother's face and hair, sprays of blood from the flayings she'd recently inflicted. The serpents in her whip swayed gently, tongues dabbing at the bright blood that had stained a weblike pattern across the front of her white tunic.

"You've heard from Quenthel?" Triel asked.

Gromph nodded and said, "I have."