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w 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 desperate and bewildered as any illwisher 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 darkness 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 nibbling 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〃
〃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 rectangular 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 terrible 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 flatlooking。 It thrust a long； thin probe at the medallion 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 had lasted long enough for her to note the locations of several other objects on the stand。 She instinctively ducked； the tentacle swept over her head and tousled her hair； and she grabbed a scroll。 As before； she would regret expending any of the spells contained therein； but she'd regret dying even more。
Conversant with the contents of the parchment； she didn't need to see the trigger phrase to 〃read〃 it。 She recited the words； and a shaft of yellow flame roared down from the ceiling through the spot where the core of the demon had been floating。 The firelight showed that it was still there。 The blaze passed right through it； and all its arms and streamers of murk convulsed。
The column of flame vanished after a moment； leaving； despite the care the drow had taken to shield her eyes； a haze of afterimage bisecting her vision。 It took her a second to realize that dull； wavering stripe was the only thing she could see。 The darkness had survived。 It had clotted its essence around her to seal her eyes once more。
You're a tough one； she thought； sending the unspoken words to the mind of the demon as she； a divine emissary of Lolth； was trained to do。
There was no response； and Quenthel felt no connection made between her mind and the consciousness of the demon。 This was no servant of Lolth's。
Alive and impossible to mand； it would surely grab or strike at her； and this time intuition was failing her。 She had no idea from where the attack would e； so she didn't know which way to dodge to evade it。 She simply had to guess； jump somewhere and not let blindness and indecision delay her。 She pivoted； and something struck her shoulder。
At first it was just a startling jolt； then pain burned at the point of impact； and wet blood flowed。 Either the darkness could harden its members into claws or else it had picked up a blade from somewhere in the chamber。
Quenthel was glad her teachers had taught her to suffer a wound without the shock of it freezing her in her tracks； helpless to avert her adversary's followup attack。 She kept moving； making herself； she hoped； a more difficult target。
Something hissed。 The source of the sound was almost under her feet。 Evidently； dragging the whip handle behind them； her vipers had been slithering about endeavoring to locate her in the dark。 She stooped； fumbled about their cool； sinuous lengths for a moment； achieved the proper grip； and lifted the weapon。
The serpents reared； hissed； and peered； each in a different direction。 Quenthel realized they could see what she could not。 The darkness was preparing to attack。
The priestess deepened her psionic link with her snakedemon servants。 She still couldn't see where her adversary's tentacles were poised； but she had a sense of them。 That would have to do。
The darkness reached for her； and； turning and turning； she swung the whip repeatedly。 Her aim was inexact； but the vipers twisted in the air to correct it。
Toward the end； she was breathing harder； and her actions were getting bigger； slower； and wilder； as any batant's will if she performs too many without a pause。 Then something long and pointed plunged into the back of her thigh。
Quenthel knew at once from the flare of pain and the gush of blood that this puncture wound was worse than the gash in her shoulder。 She staggered a step； and her leg began to fold。 The whip vipers hissed in alarm。
She shouted to focus her will and quell the agony； to force the limb to obey。 Throbbing； it straightened。
She spun and struck at the tentacle that had stabbed her； lashing it to pieces before