F O U R (7 page)

.  Quenthel brought them  to heel with a brutal

thrust of her will. Feeling naught but a  pleasant warmth, she silently commanded the dark fire. A portion of the m

agical stuff  flowed down her arm  and congealed into a

soft, semisolid ball in her palm. She threw it, and her mabullet to strike the ceiling  fresco where it splashed into a great gout of mgic shot it up like a sling

u

flame.                                 rky

Quenthel followed that first missile with  a steady barrage. Where the dark  firehad kissed it, the fresco began to burn with ordinary yellow flam

e, suffusing the  airwith eye-stinging smoke and a vile sti

clenching taste at the back of her mouth.  nk that was also a sickening, throat-She was throwing blindly

,  but with the  blaze above spreading, it shouldn't matter.Surely the  spide

r  wouldn't simply sit still  and allow itself to bur

spur it into m                      n. The fire ought to otion and thus into visibility. Unless, of course, the spider wasn't

possibility. Maybe it was actually hiding elsereally on the ceiling, which was a real where. It might even be creeping up onher while she stared at the burning painting and the nervous vipers worried m

ore

about their proximity to a dark fire than about keeping watch.No, her intuition had pointed her in the right  direction. She spotted the s

pider asit gathered itself to spring down at her

survive its renewed attack.       ,  and having flushed it out, she need only

She dived from  beneath its plumme

burning scraps of cloth behind on the floorting form. The creature with its t and rolled, leaving a trail of black, attered,  oozingeyes landed with a thump, its eight legs flexing to absorb th

e  impact.

Quenthel scrambled up and backed away from  it. Her whole gown was aflame,  nearlher entire body shrouded in dark fire. She threw  another  ball            y

of  the  stuff,  which  spattered

on the demon's back and streamed down its flanks. To  her delight, her magic affected it

again. The spider too wore a  maThat meant it ought to drop, didn'ntle of shadowy flamt it, or at  least flounder about ine, the heat rippling the air above it.

fi                            helpless agony? The re  was  surely  damaging  it,  for  Quenthel  could  smell  its  flesh  charring  even  through

the  omnipresent  reek  of burning  paint,  but  the  demon  turned  and  scuttled  after  her.

She aimed the next burning missile at the  cluster of eyes that seemed in some

indefinable way to constitute the very core of the thing. The spider did lurch and falter

when  the  burning  darkness  splashed  over  the orbs, but only for a second, and it kept

comi

Unable to outrun it, hoping she'd at least ng.                softened it up a little, Quenthel  shouted  her goddess's name and lunged to  meet it. Sheathed in dark-fi

re,  her whole  body was a

weapon and would burn the spider wherever  it touched. Where the black flame on the

monster's limbs was giving way to yellow,  it could burn her,  too, but not if she didn't let

Richard Lee Byers

17

War Of The Spider Queen

Book 1

Dissolution

it.  Their natural  sa

i       vagery overcoming their fear  of fire, the whip vipers lashed and struck n  a frenzy  of bloodlust.

At first, swinging the whip, ducking and  dodging, she kept herself clear  of thespider'

s  mandibles. She shifted left when she should have jumped right,  and the

razor- sharp  pincers  snapped shut around her.

seared therebyThey stopped short of piercing her  flesh. Loath to clasp her blazing  body and be ,  the spider faltered for just  an instant. Before it could muster the will to proceed, Quenthel struck a final blow

.

The ophidian lashes crashed through the demon's charred and tattered visage and bitinto what lay beneath. The spider jerked, fro

ze, twitched two of its legs in a purposeless

way,  and the burning hulk of it slowly sank to  the floorand all the dark fire still cracklin          , just as Quenthel's spell elapsed

g  in the chamber winked  out  of existence. She shouted in exultation. Equally ecstatic,  only a little singed, the vi

pers danced atthe end of the scourge. Everyone's good mood lasted just  as long as it took for the Baenre

priestess,  clad  primarily  in  smoke  and  ash,  to  turn  toward  the  door. Though she'd been far too busy to notice  hitherto, at som

e  point a number of

teachers and students had evidently crowded into the space to watch the bawere watching Quenthel still, eyes wide, faces u           ttle. They

ncertain.

"It was a desecration," said  Quenthel. "A mockery " .She stared at them  with haughty expectation.

They peered back at her  for a moment, then folded their hands and bowed theirheads in obeisance.

Richard Lee Byers

18

War Of The Spider Queen

Book 1

Dissolution

C  h  a  p  t  e  r

T   H   R   E   E

Tall and lithe, the left side of her otherwise handsome face creased with an oldbattle

scar of which, she recognized, she was rather foolishly proud, Greyanna Mizzrym entered her

mother's  presence dirty,  sweaty,  and still clad in her mail shirt. Greyanna knew

Mother  didn't  like  for  her  daughters  and other chattels to come to meet with her fully armed, but she

hadanexcuse. She'd just returned from an  inspection tour of Mizzrym  operations in

Bauthwaf—"around-cloak," as the dangerous network of tunnels immediately

surrounding Menzoberranzan was called—only to hear from  a franticfunctionarybearing

the fresh marks of a whip of fangs that the matron  mother  wished  to  see  her  as  soon  as

possible. Actually, even knowing the articles likely wouldn't save her if things w

ent

horribly wrong, Greyanna rather liked having  a justification to walk in on her parent with her mace in her hand and her shield on her arm. She c

ouldn't think of any

but one could never be altogether sure, creason why Mother would have decided to kill her at this particular point in time, ould one?Certainly not with Miz'ri Mizzrym, a fem

ale  regarded even by other dark elves as

excessively and capriciously cruel. She sat  enthroned in her temple with all of her weapons and protections ready to hand, the six-h

eaded whip and the purple rod of

tentacles, the enchanted rings  gleaming on her fingers. She might have been considered

comely even by the exacting standards of her  exquisite race, except that her mouth drew

down in an ugly and all but  perpetual scowl. She regarded her daughter's  martial appointm

ents coldly but without comment.

Greyanna lowered her head and spread her hands, offering the proper obeisance, andsaid, "Matron Mother. You wished to see me?"

"I wished to see you yesterday " ."I was of

"We have to keep up with our duties evenf conducting family business." Of course, Mother knew that as well as she did. now

observed on more than one occasion."      . Especially now—as you yourself have

"W

Greyanna sighed. "Yatch your insolent tongue!" es, Mother. I apologize. I didn't mean to speak out of turn "."See that you refrain from  doing so again."

Richard Lee Byers

19