〃I'm not；〃 he said。 〃That's why I'm going to e with you。〃
Halisstra touched his cheek。
〃Thank you；〃 she whispered。
Later still； when Ryld had indeed slipped into Reverie； Halisstra stared at him。 He sat cross…legged； his eyes closed。 His hands were crossed on the scabbarded blade of Splitter； but otherwise he looked like a vanquished warrior； his armor strewn about him and his weapons cast aside。
Sighing； Halisstra leaned back against a wall of the ruin and settled into Reverie herself。 Her muscles were already loose and relaxed； and so it took but a moment for the familiar wash of memories to claim her。
She drifted with them； observing with detachment as her mind skipped from one to the next； like a stone skipping on water。 Memories of the first day of her service in the temple of House Melarn and her instructors caning her palms until they bled after she mispronounced the words of the daily prayer。 And of the satisfaction Halisstra had felt the next day； when she was called to lead the prayer…and did so with a precision that earned a brief smile from the priestess who had beaten her。 Memories； too； of the footraces she and her sister Jawil had run； as children； along the roads of Ched Nasad…and the terrifying plunge after Jawil had pushed her over the edge in retaliation when Halisstra at last won a race。 Only the fact that Halisstra had 〃borrowed〃 an aunt's House insignia…one that provided levitation magic…had saved her。 Later； Jawil had said that she'd known about the insignia all along。
Those older； well…visited memories jostled against newer； fresher； somehow cleaner ones。 Of the night she had been lifted from the cave and embraced by the priestesses of Eilistraee。 Of the fierce joy she'd felt after defeating the phase spider。 Her mind even drifted over brand…new memories that were only then being engraved upon her soul。
All of the other males Halisstra had lain with had been eager； yes； but an undercurrent of fear ran just beneath the surface of their lust。 Perhaps it was because they knew they were being taken by a priestess of Lolth and feared that Halisstra； like the spiders she held sacred； might casually kill them and cast them aside。 When she had first started kissing Ryld； Halisstra had seen a fleeting trace of that fear in him； but then it had disappeared。 At some point during their lovemaking； he had surrendered…not to fear； or even to Halisstra； but to something larger。 It was not so much that she had taken him。 Instead he had given himself。
That realization acquired； Halisstra's mind drifted on to other recent memories。 One of them； harsh and insistent； rose to the fore： Seyll。 Or rather； her death at Halisstra's hands。 Strangely； that image was garbled。 Halisstra's memory of Seyll； dying； blood leaking from her side into the stream in which she lay had somehow bee confused with that of Seyll in the moment just before she died； when the priestess had turned and was reaching out with both hands； preparing to help Halisstra cross the stream。 In that false recollection； Seyll was reaching up toward Halisstra and speaking…whereas in truth； Seyll had actually been lying so still that Halisstra had thought her already dead。 And the words were wrong…they were not the words of hope that Seyll had offered after Halisstra had dragged her 〃body〃 from the stream and begun stripping it of its weapons and armor。 Instead they seemed to be a message； and an urgent one。
Halisstra； still deep in Reverie； leaned forward to hear it。
You will need the sword； Seyll whispered。
Halisstra； her eyes still closed； patted the floor beside her and her fingers came to rest upon the broken…tipped songsword； nested in its scabbard。
〃I have it；〃 she whispered aloud。
In the dream…memory； Seyll shook her head。
Not that one。 Blood bubbled from her lips as she spoke。 Only with the Crescent Blade can you defeat her。
〃Defeat who？〃 Halisstra asked。 〃I don't…〃
It was lost on the Cold Field； Seyll interrupted； her voice gurgling as her breathing became ragged。 She was close to death； almost unable to speak。 The priestess was carrying it。 。 。 and was slain。 The 。 。 。 worm has it now。
Halisstra puzzled over that one： was it 〃worm〃 Seyll had said…or 〃wyrm？〃 She decided it must have been wyrm。 Dragons were known to covet treasure…especially magical weapons。 And judging by the reverential way in which Seyll had said the words 〃Crescent Blade；〃 magical was exactly what the sword was。
Seyll was still speaking…so faintly chat Halisstra could barely hear her。
Find the Crescent Blade。 。 。 and use it。 。 。 to defeat her。
〃Defeat who？〃 Halisstra cried。
From beside her came a swift； rustling noise。 Her Reverie broken； Halisstra opened her eyes and saw Ryld in a ready crouch； Splitter in hand。 He glanced swiftly around the darkened room； then at Halisstra； eyebrows raised in a silent question。
〃It was nothing；〃 she answered。 〃I was in Reverie。 It was just a dream。〃
Ryld relaxed and slid the greatsword back into its sheath。 His eyes lingered on her； and Halisstra remembered that she was still naked。 He did not look respectfully away； as was the custom for a drow male。 Instead his eyebrows raised a second time； and a fire danced in his eyes。
Halisstra shook her head。
〃Later；〃 she told him。 〃I need to speak to Uluyara about something。〃
Leaping to her feet； she hurriedly clothed herself； then slipped out into the night。
Chapter Twenty…six
Gromph strode up to the captain who stood surveying the silent battlefield； arms folded across his blackened mithral plate mail。 Andzrel's eyes held a satisfied glint as he took in the shattered mushroom forest and the tanarukk corpses that littered the ground like felled stems。
〃Drag the bodies back to the corrals；〃 the Baenre weapons master told the soldiers who were inspecting the fallen tanarukks。 〃We can feed them to the lizards。〃
As he spoke； he cleaned blood from his sword with a scrap of cloth。 He inspected his blade； smiled； then shoved it back into the scabbard at his hip。
〃I wouldn't put that away just yet；〃 Gromph said。 〃You'll be needing it。〃
Andzrel turned； a surprised look on his face。
〃Archmage！〃 he gasped。 〃Where in the Abyss have you been？〃
〃Not quite as deep as the Abyss； but close enough；〃 the archmage quipped。 〃I'll tell you all about it later。〃 He glanced around。 〃How do things fare here？〃
〃Everything is under control；〃 Andzrel reported。 He gestured at the mouth of a tunnel in the wall of the great cavern。 In front of it was a heap of tanarukk dead。 〃We've driven the enemy back into the Dark Dominions。 They're pulling back from the city； regrouping。 And Tier Breche？〃
〃Quiet； for the moment；〃 Gromph answered。 〃The enemy has also been driven back on that front and the approach well sealed。 I expect the duergar will eventually rally； rebine with other units somewhere out in the tunnels； and resume their siege elsewhere。 Before they have a chance to do that； however； I need your help with something。〃
〃Something other than corpse disposal？〃
Gromph nodded。
Andzrel grinned and said； 〃Name it。〃
The archmage glanced at one of the bodies that lay nearby。 Part orc； part demon； the tanarukk was a stocky monstrosity covered in patches of coarse hair and scabby…looking scales。 A long jaw jutted out from under its abbreviated snout； and the tusks that curled over its upper lip were chipped and yellow。 Its low； sloped forehead gave it a stupid appearance…accentuated by the flat glaze of death in its dull red eyes。
〃I need to get through the enemy lines；〃 Gromph began。 〃And I'll need an escort。 A soldier； rather than a mage。〃 He nudged the dead tanarukk with his foot。 〃Tell me； Andzrel； have you ever been polymorphed？〃
〃Once；〃 Andzrel answered。 〃Years ago； into a lizard。 As a joke； by a prideful upstart who thought that saddling me up and riding me would teach me my place。 After I took a bite out of him； he didn't think it was so amusing anymore and changed me back。〃
Gromph smiled。 He remembered well the day that Nauzhror had limped into Sorcere； demanding a cushion because he was unable to sit down。 A 〃riding accident〃 he'd called it…until one of the other students had used a spell to peer through his robe and had spotted the bite wound on the buttocks。 The pompous young Nauzhror had been the butt of many a joke after that。
〃I'll try not to give you cause to use your tusks on me；〃 Gromph told Andzrel with mock gravity。
The tanarukk soldiers retreated in disarray through the tunnels； snarling and nipping at each other whenever a narrowing of the walls caused a bottleneck。 The air was filled with the clank of weapons and armor； the tang or blood from the wounded who had been rudely shoved aside and abandoned to die…and with the shouts of the sergeants who tried to bring order to the chaos。
Two tanarukks shuffled along behind the rest； taking care to keep apart from the jostling masses； neither giving provocation nor accepting it。 One had a more pronounced forehead than his fellows and bristle…stiff patc