ide； slapped the ambassador with a flick of her wing； and sent her reeling。
Faeryl's head rang； and the world blurred。 As she struggled to throw off the stunning effects of the blow； she thought fleetingly how unfair it was that Umrae； who had long ago forsaken bat training as a humiliating exercise in futility； was demolishing a female who still doggedly reported to her captain…of…the…guard for practice once a tenday。
After what seemed a long time； her head cleared。 She whirled； certain that Umrae was about to attack her from behind。 She wasn't。 In fact； the animate corpse was nowhere to be seen。
Plainly； Umrae had taken to the air。 Had she finally done the sensible thing and fled？ Faeryl couldn't believe it。 Umrae hated her。 The envoy didn't know why； but she'd seen it in the traitor's eyes。 Such being the case； Umrae wouldn't break off when she had every reason to believe she was winning and close to making the kill。 No drow would； which meant she was still hovering somewhere overhead； poised to swoop down and； she undoubtedly hoped； catch her mistress by surprise and smash her to the ground。
Her heart pounding； Faeryl peered upward and saw nothing。 She lisnottened for the beat of the creature's wings but heard only the eternal muffled whisper of the city as a whole。 She wasn't entirely surprised。 The undead were famously stealthy when stalking their prey。
A black sliver momentarily cut the line of violet luminescence adorning a spire of the castle of House Vandree。 The obstruction had surely been the tip of one of Umrae's wings。
Faeryl stared for another moment； then jumped when she finally spotnotted Umrae。 Her tattered cloak flapping between her wings； the transnotformed secretary was already hurtling down like a raptor from the World Above diving to plunge its talons into a rodent。
Hoping Umrae hadn't seen her react to the sight of her； Faeryl kept turning and peering。 When she felt the disturbance in the air； or perhaps simply the urgent prompting of her instincts； she jumped aside； pivoted； and swung the war hammer in an overhand blow。
Under those circumstances； she had little chance of smashing the thing's heart； but she'd seen that Umrae could suffer pain。 Perhaps the initial blow would freeze the undead thing in place for an instant； affording Faeryl the opportunity for what she prayed would be the finishing stroke。
The ambassador had timed the move properly； and the weapon's basalt head smashed into Umrae's flank。 Deprived of her victim； unexpectedly battered； the ghoul slammed into the smooth stone surface of the street with a satisfying crash。 Scraps of flesh broke away from her raddled body； releasing a fresh puff of stench。
Faeryl marked her target； the place on Umrae's chest beneath which her heart ought to lie； and swung Mother's Kiss back for the follow…up attack。 The traitor rolled and scrambled to her knees。 Faeryl struck； and Umrae lashed out with a taloned hand。 The ghoul caught the war hammer in mid…flight； tore it out of the ambassador's grip； and sent it spinning to clack down on the ground ten feet away。
Faeryl felt a crazy impulse to turn and go after the thing； but she knew Umrae would rip her apart if she tried。 She back stepped instead。 The innothumanly gaunt spy leaped to her feet…she looked like a pile of sticks spontaneously assembling themselves into a crude facsimile of a person… and pursued。
While retreating； Faeryl started edging around in a looping course that might ultimately bring her to the spot where the hammer lay。 Leernoting； Umrae moved sideways right along with her in a way that demonnotstrated she knew exactly what her mistress had in mind and would never permit it。
Well； the aristocrat still had one weapon…pitifully inadequate to the situation though it was…a knife hidden in the belt that gathered her light； supple coat of mail at the waist。 The gold buckle was the hilt； and when she pulled on it； the stubby adamantine blade would slide free。 She started to reach for it； then hesitated。
Against Umrae's talons； long reach； and resistance to harm； the dagger really would be useless 。 。 。 unless Faeryl could get in close enough to use it； and unless she attacked by surprise。
But how in the name of the Demonweb was she to acplish that？ Umrae was rapidly closing the distance； snapping her wings every few steps to lengthen a stride； and for three unnerving backward paces； Faeryl's mind was blank。
Then she remembered the cloak； or rather； the remnants of it； still clutched in her offhand。 Perhaps she could employ it to conceal her drawnoting of the knife。 The piwafwi was just a sad little mass of tatters； and she