ive many more fights in his present condition。 He either had to escape his foes posthaste or shed his disabilities。
Sadly； he had just about e to the conclusion that he was fated to wander through the castle； ducking his enemies the while； until pure luck led him to an exit。 That could take hours。
He had reason to hope he wouldn't need nearly as long to revitalize himnotself； but he'd leave himself vulnerable during the process。 He wouldn't be able to sneak in the opposite direction whenever he detected a party of hunters。 He'd have to stay in one place。 Still； it seemed the better option。
He skulked along the corridor； peering into doorways。 One led to a desnotolate training hall。 The target mannequins looked like ghosts in their shrouds of spiderweb。
Near the right…hand wall were tiers of seats； from which spectators could watch the warriors train。 If Ryld crouched down behind the structure； no one would see him without making a careful search of the entire room。
Besides； the master thought； going to ground in a salle might bring him luck。 The dark powers knew； he needed it。
He limped behind the sculpted seats and sat down on the floor with his legs crossed。 He rested his hands on his thighs； closed his eyes； and notmenced a breathing exercise。
Spellcasters smugly imagined they were the only folk who truly knew how to meditate。 They were mistaken。 The brothers of Melee…Magthere had mastered the practice as well。 It helped them reach the highest level of martial proficiency。
Spellcasters。 The thought reminded him of Pharaun。 It brought the shock and anger flooding back。
But at the moment； those feelings were an impediment。 He had to relax and empty his mind。
He could heal the wound Syrzan had left inside his head。 He could stop his leg bleeding。 He could banish pain and fatigue and tap his body's deepnotest reservoirs of strength。
If only the enemy gave him time。
Pharaun groped his way onward for just a few more minutes； then found another staircase； this one a narrow spiral leading downward。 It was almost as if the mysteriously silent Lolth had returned long enough to reward him for his treachery。
If so； he soon had cause to recall that she was a fickle and treacherous entity herself。 He reached the bottom of the steps； headed down a hallway with a high； arched ceiling； and heard another band of hunters。 It sounded as if they were just about to round the corner dead ahead。 Pharaun looked around at the blank walls。 The corridor lacked any doorways into which a fugitive might duck。
The wizard could run； but he didn't want to retreat back the way he'd e。 He could evoke a curtain of darkness； but that would alert the rogues that someone was hiding behind it。 He could throw darts of force； but it would exhaust his offensive magic。 He decided to take a chance。
Concentrating on the stolen House insignia； he shed his weight and floated upward to stretch out horizontally； his spine pressed against the crest of the rounded ceiling。
The hunters passed below him； oblivious to his presence。 He stared down； looking for a fellow mage。 If there was a chance he could obtain new spell foci； he might attack and the odds be damned； but the males were all warriors。
Once they'd gone by； he drifted back down to the ground and skulked onward。 He got turned around once more； then unexpectedly found himnotself before a small service entrance to a stable much like the one in his family's castle。 Moldy stone troughs； casks； mounting blocks； and rusty iron…ring hitches defined regular patterns across the floor； while musty； rotting tack hung along the walls。 The aerial steeds were long gone； stolen by the conquerors； evidently； as he didn't see any bones。 Two rogues stood watch； guarding the huge sliding doors。
Pharaun smiled； threw his last darts of light； and； without waiting to see how much damage they did； broke from cover and sprinted toward the sentries。
One renegade coughed blood and fell。 The other appeared unaffected。 A nice…looking fellow with a single elegant tendril dangling beside each cheek； he turned； spotted Pharaun； and calmly lifted his crossbow。
The wizard threw himself flat； and the bolt whizzed over his head。 Still prone； he shot his own crossbow。 The shaft plunged into the renegade's chest。
The rogue snarled； drew his scimitar； and advanced； but only for three steps。 He stopped； and his arm fell； his sword clattering against the floor。 An astonished look on his face； he dropped to his knees。
Rising； Pharaun noticed that the dying male's garments were as tasteful as his coiffure。
〃Who's your tailor？〃 Pharaun asked； but the renegade merely fell facenotdown。 〃Ah； well。〃
The wizard strode on to one of the outside doors； unbolted it； and shoved it open。 Perhaps the casters were magical； for they worked as well as ever。 The panel rolled easily and quietly aside。
On the other side was a sheer drop to the glowing palaces a thousand feet below。 Silently thanking the dead guard's House； he touched the stolen brooch and sprang over the edge。
C h a p t e r
T W E N T Y
T W O
Pharaun could float down a thousand feet； or he could fall； relying on levitation to slow his descent at the end。 The latter course was dangerous。 If he waited too long to counteract the pull of gravity； he would break bones or even pulp himself when he landed。
Still； he chose to plummet； because of what he saw beneath him。
He'd lost track of time inside the rogues' citadel； but it was plain that the Call had gone forth around the black death of Narbondel； when most dark elves had gone home for the night。 With few drow about to conte