and rustled above his head。 He looked up in time for it to slam him in the face and knock him down。 Dropped from a fair height； the thick； coarse strands of rope prising the net struck with the force of a club。
Also trapped； Ryld cursed； the language vulgar enough to make the Braeryn proud。
Pharaun needed a second to shake off the shock of the impact； and he realized his current situation was even more unfortunate than he'd initially thought。 The net； woven in a spider web pattern； was animate。 Scraping his skin； striving to render him pletely immobile； the heavy mesh shifted and tightened around him。
A foulwing landed on the street。 In the saddle sat an otherwise handnotsome priestess with a scarred face…a Mizzrym face； lean； intelligent； and sardonic。 Strangely； she wore a domino mask； and Pharaun suspected he knew why。
Grinning； the female said； 〃I knew you'd try to trick me with illusions； Pharaun。 That's why I brought a talisman of true seeing。〃
Though he wasn't sure she could see it from outside the net； Pharaun made it a point to smile back when he said； 〃And you were correct。 Hello； Greyanna。〃
Quenthel was immune to fear。 She did not； could not； panic。 Or so she had always believed； and in fact； she wasn't panicking； but she was as desnotperate and bewildered as any ill…wisher could desire。
She wasn't certain； but she believed the vipers' hissing and a bump and clatter had roused her from her trancelike state of repose。 She'd opened her eyes and seen nothing。 Evidently someone had conjured a patch of darknotness around her； or worse； cursed her with a blindness spell。 She opened her mouth to speak to the whip snakes； and something cold and thick jammed itself inside。
Her throat clogged； she was suffocating。 Meanwhile； something else； something that felt like the cool； dexterous tip of a demon's tentacle； slid around her wrist。
She yanked her hand away just before the unseen member could lock around it and thrashed to keep her limbs free of the other tendrils that began to grope after them。 None of it helped her breathe。
She battered furiously at the space around her。 Logic told her that her attacker had to be there； but her fists merely swept through empty space。 Her chest ached with the need for air； and she felt unconsciousness nibnotbling at her mind。
She did the only thing left。 She bit down。
At first； she couldn't penetrate the mass； but she strained； snarled in her throat with effort； and her teeth sank into something leathery and oily。
In an instant； it vanished。 It didn't yank itself free； it just melted away。
Quenthel's teeth snapped together with a clack。
Scrambling to her knees； she sucked in a couple deep breaths； then called； 〃Whip！〃
〃Here！〃 Yngoth cried from somewhere on the floor。 〃We didn't see the demon until the last second。 It is the darkness！〃
〃I understand。〃
At least she wasn't blind。 She'd heard of demons made of darkness itself； though she had never had occasion to summon one。 They were said to be hard to catch and even harder to bind。
〃Guard！〃 she called。
This time she didn't hear an answer and wasn't surprised。 The invader's presence suggested the sentry was either a traitor or dead。
Quenthel sensed something rushing at her。 She flung herself sideways； and something crashed against the patch of wall immediately behind the space she'd just vacated。 The stone floor chilled her through her gauzy wisp of a chemise。
As planned； she fetched up against the stand where she kept certain small pieces of her regalia。 She leaped up and groped about the rectangunotlar stone tabletop。 To her disgust； a couple items rattled to the floor； but then her fingers closed on a medallion of beautifully cut glass。
Squinting； she invoked the trinket's power。 A dazzling glare blazed through the room。 Quenthel had to shield her own eyes； hoping the ternotrible light would destroy a living darkness altogether。
The magic light and the equally supernatural darkness made for a split second when the lighting in the room was as it was before the creature had entered。 At least Quenthel could open her eyes。
Her assailant； seemingly unaffected by the light； was a ragged central blot with long； tattered arms snaking throughout the room； ubiquitous as smoke。 Drinking in all the glow； reflecting none； it was dead black and deceptively flat…looking。 It thrust a long； thin probe at the medalnotlion and Quenthel jerked the token aside。 The shaft of blackness veered； pensating； and struck the medallion hard enough to knock it out of her hand。 The light died instantly when the glass medallion shattered on the floor。
Fortunately； the illumination h