〃I don't sell to outlaws。 I don't want any trouble with the priestesses。〃
Pharaun looked into the merchant's eyes and saw that he'd never connotvince him。
〃Too bad。 You'll regret this decision。 In just a few minutes； most likely； but by then it will be too late。〃
The master turned and strode away； but once he was out of Blundyth's sight； he circled back around。 Creeping through the cramped spaces benottween the booths； he approached the burly draw's stall from the side。 As he skulked along； he listened to hear if the undercreatures were ing closer； but he couldn't tell。 He suspected that one of the cursed sound bafnotfles was muffling the noise。
At any rate； he reached the dimpled fungal structure without any ores attacking him。 He swept his hands through a mystic pass and whispered an incantation。 The protective circle ot light winked out of existence。
Pharaun ran to the stall； floated upward； and swung himself onto the roof。 The petrified fungus supported him like stone。 Blundyth cursed and came stalking around the side of the stand； his crossbow at the ready。 Phanotraun thought he'd better make sure the merchant didn't get a chance to use it。
The wizard jumped off the roof onto Blundyth's back。 He knew he hadn't executed the move as nimbly as poor Ryld would have； but it worked。 It slammed the merchant to his knees。 The toad hopped away。
Clinging to his victim； the master drove his dirk repeatedly into the big male's side。 Sometimes the blade plunged deep； and sometimes it caught on a rib。 Blundyth flailed and bucked for a while； couldn't break free； then tried to aim the arbalest back over his shoulder。 Pharaun ducked away from it。 Finally the merchant fell sideways； pinning his attacker's knife and hand beneath him。 Pharaun dragged his hand free； but didn't bother with the dirk。 He was about to procure a set of vastly superior weapons。 He wiped his bloody fingers on Blundyth's clothing； then rose and headed for the entrance to the stall。
Blundyth's neighbors watched him； but didn't interfere。 As the dead male might have observed； his murder was nothing to do with them。
The wizard's supply shop was as well…stocked as usual。 Jars； bottles； and boxes stood on limestone shelves； and a greenish mirror glowed on a wooden stand in the corner。 The air smelled of spices； herbs； bitter innotcense； and decay。
Blundyth's piwafwi lay carelessly draped across a chest； and it was the first item Pharaun appropriated。 The cloak fit him like a tent； but it had the customary row upon row of hidden pockets。 Next he examined the vials and drawers； finding the magical ponents that corresponded to the spells he had prepared。 With every one he filched； he felt a little better； almost like a cripple regaining the use of his legs。
As he worked his way across the room； he spotted a pair of boots sitting atop a little cupboard。 They were plainly special in some way； for the maker had tooled runes into the leather。 Without his silver ring； Pharaun lacked the ability to instantly discern what virtues they possessed； but playing a hunch； he decided to take the time to try them on。
The boots squirmed； molding themselves to his feet； then quivered against his flesh like an animal eager to run。 He took an experimental step； and the magical footwear kicked off on its own； augmenting the strength of his legs and propelling him all the way across the shop in a single bound。
Not bad； he thought。 Not as good as a flying carpet； but helpful nonetheless。
He took a few more strides； getting the feel of the boots； then headed out。 Just as he exited the shop； a howling； shrieking cacophony exploded out of the air。 An instant later； a horde of undercreatures…ores； mostly； with a sprinkling of long…armed goblins…came charging out of the stands of stalls and kiosks to the east。
Blundyth's neighbors gaped in utter astonishment。 For some； the instant of consternation was fatal。 The undercreatures swarmed over them like ants harvesting the carcass of a mouse。
Some of the remaining merchants bolted。 Others shot their hand crossnotbows； or conjured flashes of magic。 One optimist sought to cow the rebels with threats； invective； and mands until a scrofulous ore； slopping the liquid out of a tin bucket； threw some of Syrzan's liquid fire on him。 The incendiary ignited flesh as easily as stone。
His great blanket of zpiwafivi flapping around him； Pharaun ran。 Each amplified stride bounced him off the ground； but thanks to the virtues of the magic boots； he always landed softly。
A pair of ores glared at him and hefted their spears。 He whispered an innotcantation； and a ragged blackness； the essence of death itself； danced among the undercreatures。 They collapsed； already rotting。
For the moment at least； Pharaun was in the clear。 He raced on； while all around him； his city went down in blood and fire。
〃You must know some song； some magic； to track an enemy；〃 Houndaer said。
〃If I did； I'd be singing it；〃 Omraeth said curtly。 〃Now be quiet。 If the masters hear us ing； they'll do their best to evade us。〃
〃He's right；〃 said Tsabrak； scuttling along on his eight segmented legs。 〃Shut up； or we'll never get this done。〃
Houndaer was wearing Ryld Argith's greatsword strapped across his back； and for an instant he fairly quivered with the urge to try it out on his panions。 He wasn't used to such insolence； not from other males； and certainly not from a degraded creature like a drider。
Yet he restrained himself； because he needed them。 He prayed he'd be the one to catch up with the fugitives； who'd made him look a fool in the eyes of the other renegades； but he knew he couldn't kill both of them by himself。
Tsab