n assailant that slipped imperceptibly into her mind。
The enchanted window afforded Gromph a view of the interior of Arach…Tinilith as if he were but a few feet away。 He watched his sister and her squad encounter wretches whom the spirit had already overwhelmed with the infusion of an evil more profound than any mortal； even a dark elf； could readily bear。 He looked for some sign that Quenthel was grownoting afraid。 The indication would be subtle if she let it slip at all； but pernothaps a brother would spot it。
He didn't； and eventually Quenthel ordered her minions to evacuate the building and sat down to meditate。
The Archmage frowned。 Evidently the imperious bitch had figured out what was going on and had in a sense responded appropriately。 But it shouldn't matter。 He'd withstood contact with the ultimate essence of evil； but he was the greatest wizard in the world and had taken precautions。 Quenthel enjoyed neither advantage。
In time； a sublime cruelty twisted her features。 Gromph exclaimed in triumph； for the netherspirit plainly had her in its grasp。 Evidently she wasn't going to drop dead of an aneurysm or mit suicide； but no matter： she was doomed。 Her personality erased； consumed by the notpulsion to degrade and destroy； she was bound to provoke someone into killing her。
Then she broke the skinny white wand in two； unleashing a magic that thrust the netherspirit out of her。 Gromph； for all his knowledge； had never seen anything quite like it。 Taking on just a hint of palpable form； his agent fled the scene。
The Baenre wizard bolted up in his chair and threw his goblet； smashnoting it against the wall。 He cursed foully； and the malignancy in his words； hammering through the black lotus…scented air； made the greenish flames of the everlasting candles gutter。
Struggling for posure； he told himself it didn't matter。 He'd get her eventually。 He'd throw entity after entity at her until 。 。 。
But what had happened to the netherspirit？ Constrained by Gromph's mand； it should have kept attacking until either it toppled the pillars of Quenthel's reason or she destroyed it。 Instead； it had run away。
The mistress's unfamiliar magic had broken the binding…so much was clear…but where had the creature gone？ Back to its own world？ Probably； but something…a slight acceleration of his heartbeat or a subtle prickling on the back of his neck； perhaps…made Gromph want to check。
The casement responded to his will。 Framed in that rectangular space； the netherspirit； still visible； perhaps as tangible as smoke； half flew； half bounded down one of the labyrinthine corridors of Sorcere。 A defensive ward activated； piercing the intruder with crisscrossing shafts of yellow light； but it tore itself free and charged on。 A blue…gowned master peered out the door of his sanctum； spotted the wraith； started to conjure； and the intruder stopped him with a sweep of a shadowy paw。 The blow didn't rock the wizard backward or leave a mark； but he fell like a block of stone。
Gromph surmised his erstwhile agent was ing after him。 Either it was angry over its forced servitude； or Quenthel had done more than merely dissolve his control。 She'd wrested it away from him and turned the entity into her own assassin。
Either way； the spirit represented a threat； and unfortunately； Gromph himself didn't know its full capabilities。 Still； he had no real reason for connotcern。 His magic was more than a match for any such entity； especially in his stronghold。
He watched the netherspirit flow through the black marble door of his office like water through a sieve。 It scrambled over the white bone desk and headed straight for the hidden access to his sanctum。 Magic crackled purple and blue around it； but it burst through。 It hurtled up the shaft。
Gromph smiled。 He had the creature where he wanted it； for he'd crenotated the passage with defense in mind。 Simply by focusing his will； he denotstroyed it。
The shaft wasn't made of matter。 Still； a metallic crashing and grinding sounded through the hole in the middle of the floor as the artificial space folded in on itself。 If the rebellious spirit screamed； its voice was lost among the din。
Gromph would have enjoyed hearing it squeal； but the important thing was that it was gone。 Most likely； the collapse had crushed it to nothing； but even if not； it had surely ejected it； maimed and disoriented； in some remote halfworld。 The crisis was over； and the archmage was left only with the annoyance of transporting himself in and out of his hidenotaway via spell until such time as he invested the six hours necessary to recreate the passage。
However； just to maint