tory； staggered into his path。 Houndaer shouted in frustranottion and cut the drider down。
When the hybrid fell； the noble could see what was happening behind him。 Ryld had reached Tsabrak's fallen sword。 Heedless of the venom drying on the blade； the teacher slipped his toe under the weapon； flipped it into the air； and caught it neatly by the hilt。 His expression as unfathnotomable as ever； he came on guard and advanced。
I can still kill him； Houndaer thought； I still have the reach on him。
Aloud； he shouted； 〃Here！ I've got one of the masters here！〃
Ryld stepped to the verge of the distance； then hovered there。 Confident in his ability to defend； he wanted Houndaer to strike at him。 A fencer couldn't attack without opening himself up。
At first； the noble declined to oblige。 He intended to wait his opponent out。 Ryld beat his blade。
The clanging impact startled a response out of him； but at least it was a posed attack。 Feint to the chest； feint to the flank； cut low and hack the opponent's legs out from underneath him。
Even as he flowed into the final count； he remembered Ryld teaching him the sequence； and sure enough； the instructor wasn't fooled。 He parnotried the genuine low…line attack； then riposted to Houndaer's wrist。 The broadsword bit through his gauntlet and into the flesh beneath。
Ryld pulled his weapon free in a spatter of gore。 He drove deeper； cutting at Houndaer's torso。 The Tuin'Tarl floundered backward out of the distance； meanwhile heaving the greatsword back into a threatening position。
His bloody wrist throbbed； and the huge blade trembled。 It was brutally hard to hold it up； its enchantments notwithstanding。 He choked up on it； his weakened hand clutching the ricasso； but that only helped a little。 He listened for the sound of another party of rogues rushing to his aid。 He didn't hear it。
〃Well done； Master Argith！〃 Houndaer declared。 〃I declare myself beaten。 I yield。〃
Ryld stalked forward； broadsword at the ready。
〃Please！〃 said the Tuin'Tarl。 〃We always got along； didn't we？ I was one of your most dutiful students； and I can help you get out of here。〃
The teacher kept ing； and Houndaer saw that his face wasn't empty or expressionless after all。 It might be devoid of emotion； but it revealed a preternatural； almost demonic concentration； focused entirely on slaughter。
Houndaer saw his own inescapable death there； and； suffused with a strange calm； he lowered the greatsword。 Ryid's blade sheared into his chest an instant later。
The echoing metallic crash startled Quenthel。 It was well that she'd spent a lifetime learning self control； for otherwise； she might have cried out in dismay。
She and her squad were patrolling the temple。 After the events of the past four nights it would have been mad to relax their vigilance； but as the hours had crept uneventfully by； her troops began to speculate that the siege was over。 After all； it was supposed to be。 The bone wand had supnotposedly turned the malignancy of the past night's sending back on she who cast the curse。
Yet Quenthel had found she wasn't quite ready to share in the general optimism。 Yes； she'd turned an attack back on its source； but that didn't necessarily mean her faceless enemy had succumbed to the demon's attennottions。 The spellcaster could have survived； and if so； she could keep right on dispatching her unearthly assassins。
From the sound of it； another such had just broken in； and Quenthel didn't have another little bone wand。
For a moment； the Baenre felt a surge of fear； perhaps even despair； and she swallowed it down。
〃Follow me；〃 she snapped。
Perhaps her subordinates would prove of some use for a change。
Their tread silent in their enchanted boots； the priestesses trotted in the direction of the noise。 Greenish torchlight splashed their shadows on the walls。 Parchment rattled as one novice fumbled open a scroll。 Female voices began to shout。 Power reddened the air for an instant and brushed a gritty； pricking feeling across the priestesses' skin。
〃It's not a demon；〃 said Yngoth； twisting up from the whip handle to place his eyes on a level with Quenthel's own。 Her stride made his scaly wedge of a head bob up and down。
〃No？〃 she asked。 〃Has my enemy e to continue our duel in person？〃
She hoped so。 With her minions at her back； Quenthel would have a good chance of crushing the arrogant fool。
But alas； it wasn't so。 Her course led her to the entry hall with the spider statues。 The poor battered valves hung breached and crooked once again。 This time the culprit was a huge； disembodied； luminous hand； floating open with fingers up as if signaling someone to h