Extinction

The illithid broke off in mid-sentence, suddenly glancing at someone who was approaching. Long, purple fingers closed tightly around the sphere. The illithid held it in both hands, hiding what it contained. It rubbed its fingers deliberately against the glass, smearing its surface with the slime that coated its palms. Gromph tumbled to his hands and knees as the illithid dropped the hand holding the sphere to its side. He scrambled forward to look out through the only clear spot that remained on the surface of the glass.

One of the duergar stood in front of the illithid, his face level with the sphere. Like the others of his race, the dwarf had pale gray skin, a snub nose that looked as if it had been flattened by a mace, and a bald head. He was dressed in mottled gray-and-black clothing the color of stone but wore a bronze breastplate so untarnished and free of dents that Gromph was willing to bet it was magical. He carried a greataxe whose double-bladed head swirled with ghostly patterns?likely the trapped souls of those it had slain, or so Gromph guessed.

The gray dwarf didn't have his head tilted up to speak to the illithid but kept his eyes level with the mind flayer's waist. The gray dwarf's gaze occasionally creeped down to the sphere, and he gestured repeatedly at Tier Breche.

Glancing up, Gromph could see the illichid's tentacles ripple as it shook its head. The gray dwarf, who obviously thought he was addressing another duergar, pointed at the sphere.

With a suddenness that surprised Gromph, the illithid bent over the dwarf. Its four tentacles lashed out, wrapping themselves around the duergar's face. The dwarf flailed with his axe, but the illithid had anticipated that move and countered it with magic. The dwarf's body went suddenly rigid, the axe poised above his head. Tentacles flexed, and the duergar's head split open like a ripe fungus ball. One of the tentacles relaxed, and, while the remaining three held the head in a vicelike grip, it began scooping pinkish gobs of brain into the illithid's mouth. Gromph, sickened by the sight, turned his face away from the glass.

The other duergar turned, shocked looks on their faces. One or two reached for their weapons, took a look at the illithid's blank white eyes, then all of them suddenly relaxed. Gromph could only imagine how easy it was for the illithid to cloud the simple minds of a gang of duergar soldiers. He wondered what the duergar saw when they looked at the illithid?one of their own, most likely?and they were compelled not to think about their dead officer, his broken skull, or his half-eaten brain. One by one, the magic-addled gray dwarves simply went back to what they had been doing.

Finished with its meal, the illithid plucked the axe from the dwarf's hand, then let the body drop.

Now, it said, you will tell me how to enter Sorcere.

Gromph eyed the greataxe. It was obvious that the illithid cared less about the war than it did about personal gain.

You want magic, Gromph sent to the illithid.

Yes, the mind flayer replied.

You want to get inside Sorcere before the duergar do.

The illithid's next thought was more tentative, as if it was admitting a guilty secret.

Yes, it said.

Gromph smiled and replied, You want to know if there's a back door into Sorcere, but if you try to get that information from me by force, it will take too long. By the time you find it, the duergar will be inside. You'll be left with whatever scraps they don't destroy or loot for themselves. But I can offer another alternative. Help me to get free of this sphere, and I'll reward you well. I'll willingly give you the magic you crave.

What magic?

In my centuries of experimentation, I have developed powerful spells that other mages and wizards have yet to even imagine.

Gromph felt the tendrils of the illithid's mind-probing magic root even deeper in his mind.

Those spells are no longer in my memory, he told it. They're in my private quarters, in Sorcere. In these.

Gromph let his mind dwell on his office, on the enormous desk that dominated the windowless room. Made of polished bone, it had a number of drawers that opened onto extra-dimensional spaces. The front of each drawer was inlaid with a different skull. Gromph pictured himself sitting in his chair behind the desk and reaching down to a certain skull, then placing his fingers in its eye sockets. The drawer slid open, revealing a rack that held two bottles. Each was of cast gold, its sides set with a sigil-shaped «window» of moss-green glass, through which came a glow that originated from inside the bottle. Each of the sigils, in the drow script, represented the same word: "remember."

What are they? the illithid asked.