it fell； burning as it went。 The magic spores busting inside turned the fire green； then blue； then violet。
Greyanna screamed in fury and sent the foulwing swooping lower。 Ryld looked for another magic arrow and found that none were left。 He nocked an ordinary one； and his hands began to shake； no doubt an aftereffect of the punishment he'd taken。
For a moment； it seemed to him that he was finished。 If he couldn't shoot accurately； he couldn't hit one of the foulwing's vital spots； or the riders on its back； for that matter。 Nor was he in any shape to fight them hand to hand。
Then he realized he still had a chance。 He surrounded his arrow with a cloud of murky darkness； then shot it upward。
The descending beast was a huge target。 Even shooting blind with tremnotbling hands； he had a fair chance of hitting in somewhere； and the foul…wing gave a double shriek that told him he'd succeeded。
He watched the mass of darkness he'd created tumble and zigzag drunkenly through the air。 Stung； suddenly and inexplicably sightless； the winged mount inside had panicked； and Greyanna was evidently unable to control it。 She quite possibly could have dissolved the darkness with some scroll or talisman； but she couldn't see either or lay hands on her equipment easily with the foulwing lurching and swooping about beneath her。
Ryld snapped the head off the arrow in his leg and pulled the offendnoting object out。 He gathered up the healing potions； and quickly as he was able； activated the magic in his talisman； floated down off the roof； and limped away。
C h a p t e r
T H I R T E E N
As Quenthel skulked down the corridor； it occurred to her that at the same time； Gromph was casting his radiant heat into the base of Narbondel。 Even revelers and necromancers were settling in for a rest。 She； however； was too busy to do the same。 She wouldn't have a chance to relax until late the next night； unless； of course； she wound up resting forever。
Fortunately； one of the Baenre alchemists brewed a stimulant to delay the onset of the aching eyes； fuzzy head； and leaden limbs that lack of rest produced。 Quenthel extracted a silver vial of the stuff from one of the pouches on her belt and took a sip of it。 She gasped； and her shoulder muscles jumped。 Jolted back to alertness； she continued on her way。
In another minute； she reached the door to Drisinil's quarters。 In defernotence to the status of her family； the novice resided in one of Arach…Tinilith's most fortable student habitations。 Quenthel regretted not sticking her in a dank little hole。 Perhaps then the girl would have learned her place。
The high priestess inspected the arched limestone panel that was the door。 She couldn't see any magical wards。
〃Is it safe？〃 she whispered to the vipers。
〃We believe so；〃 Yngoth replied。
How reassuring； Quenthel thought； but it was either trust them or use another precious； irreplaceable scroll to wipe away protections that probanotbly didn't exist。
She activated the power of her brooch。 When a novice came to Arach…Tinilith； the enchantments on certain doors were keyed to allow her to enter； based on the unique magical signature of her House insignia； rooms the high priestesses deemed it necessary for her to pass into。 Only Quenthel's brooch could unlock them all。
She unlocked Drisinil's door and warily cracked it open。 No magic sparked； nor did any mechanical trap jab a blade at her。 As quietly as she could； Quenthel crept on into the suite。 Sensing her desire for quiet； the snakes hung mute and limp。
She found Drisinil sitting motionless in a chair； her bandaged； mutinotlated hands in her lap。 For a moment； Quenthel； thinking the other female must have a dauntless spirit to enter the Reverie at such a perilous time； rather admired her…then she caught the smell of brandy； and noticed the bottle lying in a puddle of liquor on the floor。
Quenthel stalked toward the novice。 It occurred to her that she was doing to Drisinil as the living darkness had done to her。 The thought vaguely amused her； perhaps simply because she was finally the predator； not the prey。 Smiling； she gently laid the vipers across the other drow's face and upper torso。 The snakes hissed and writhed。
Drisinil roused with a cry and a start。 She started to rear up； and Quennotthel pushed her back down in her chair。
〃Sit！〃 the Baenre snapped； 〃or the serpents will bite。〃
Her wide eyes framed by the cool； scaly loops of the vipers； Drisinil stopped struggling。
〃Mistress； what's wrong？〃
Quenthel smiled and said； 〃Very good； child； you sound sincere。 After your first ploy failed； you should