otic。 Miraculously； partway through； the upper reaches of the cavern began to storm； allaying Pharaun's greatest fear。 An hour later； the drow swept in and annihilated the opposing force； and thus they took their homeland back。
In the aftermath； the wizard walked through the downpour； looking this way and that。 Strands of wet hair clung to his forehead； and his boots squelched。 As a mage； he had to concede the storm was a glorious achievenotment； to say nothing of the salvation of Menzoberranzan； but it was a pity his colleagues couldn't have acplished the same thing without wreaknoting havoc on everyone's appearance and chilling them to the bone。
The Mizzrym grinned。 Neither Quenthel nor Triel was anywhere around。 He'd taken direction from them all night； willingly enough； but he wanted to mand the finale of this extraordinary affair himself； and their absence gave him an excuse to proceed without consulting them。
He cast about once more and spied Welverin Freth。 The capable weapons master of the Nineteenth House； Welverin excelled at bat denotspite the seeming impediment of a prosthetic silver leg； and had fought in tandem with Pharaun several times during the night。 Currently he was huddled in a doorway conferring with two of his lieutenants。
〃Weapons Master！〃 Pharaun called。
Welverin looked up and gave him a nod。 〃How can I help you； Master Mizzrym？〃
〃How would you like to help me kill the creature responsible for this innotsurrection？〃
The warrior's eyes narrowed and he said； 〃Is this another of your jokes？〃
〃By no means。 But if we're going to do this； we'd better do it quickly； before our quarry slinks away into the Underdark。 I trust that you and your troops can ride aerial mounts？〃
Pharaun gestured to the giant bats； created by some enchanter； penned in a nearby latticework dome。 It seemed a petty miracle they'd survived the rebellion unsuffocated and unburned。
〃Where do they keep the tack？〃 Welverin asked； peering at the cage。
C h a p t e r
T W E N T Y
F 0 U R
Water dripping from the hem of his cloak； Pharaun found that the layout of the renegades' fortress wasn't quite so perplexing when he wasn't dodging hunters and suffering the brain…jangling aftereffects of a psionic assault。 The empty； echoing rooms and corridors still seemed just as ominous； however； just as fitting an abode for wraiths and malenotdictions。
The Mizzrym watched Welverin and the other warriors of House Freth to see if the place was unsettling them。 It didn't look like it。 Perhaps they were too brave。 Or perhaps the fresh； butchered corpses littering the floor turned their thoughts from shadowy terrors to the monplace violence that was their profession。
They found the bodies； often cut in two or more pieces； lying here and there about the castle。 Pharaun was astonished at the quantity。 Apparently poor wounded Ryld had had a nice long homicidal run of it before the conspirators slew him。 Perhaps it had even required Syrzan to do the job。
In retrospect； Pharaun wondered why the alhoon hadn't joined the search for the escaped prisoners right from the start。 Maybe giving the Call had temporarily depleted its strength。
The Master of Sorcere led the soldiers into a long； spacious hall with a large dais at the far end。 there； no doubt； a matron mother had held court and also dined； judging by the benches and trestle tables stacked in an alcove。 Carved and painted spiders crawled everywhere； a sort of mask； Pharaun supposed； given that the former tenants of the keep had petitioned other deities in private。 Sheets of genuine spiderweb veiled the artwork。
Welverin said； 〃Look。〃
Pharaun turned his head； then caught his breath in surprise。 Ryld Argith had just stepped from the mouth of a servants' passage midway up the left…hand wall。
The weapons master's strides were even and sure despite his wounded leg。 He was noticeably thinner； as if his body was burning fuel at a prodinotgious rate； and somehow he'd recovered Splitter。
The soldiers aimed their crossbows。
〃No！〃 Pharaun said。 Not yet； anyway。
Ryld pivoted toward the newers and stalked forward。 His eyes were intent yet somehow empty； his face； expressionless； and he seemed indiffernotent to the weapons leveled at his burly frame。 One warrior muttered unnoteasily； as if he'd mistaken the Master of Melee…Magthere for a ghost。 Pharaun knew better； he recognized a deep trance when he saw one。 Evidently his friend had utilized some esoteric martial discipline to keep himself alive。
〃Ryld！〃 Pharaun said。 〃Well met！ I knew you could defeat Houndaer and the rest of those buffoons。 Otherwise I never would have left you。〃
The he sounded thin even to the liar。
Certainly it didn't impress Ryld。 Perhaps in his altered statue of connotsciousness； he hadn't even heard it or recognized his fellow master； either。 He just kept ing。
〃Wake up！〃 the wizard said。 〃It's me； Pharaun； your friend。 I came back to rescue you。 These boys hail from House Freth； and they're our allies。〃
Ryld took another gliding swordsman's advance； still directly toward the Master of Sorcere。
I'm sorry； Pharaun thought； but this time you bring it on yourself。 He drew breath to give the order to shoot； and shapes surged through the three tall arched doorways at the rear of the dais。
In the lead capered several human…sized creatures wrapped in lengths of clattering chain。 They were kytons； malign spirits whom mages could summon and control。 Behind the devils strode the surviving conspirators； and Syrzan in its decaying robes。
Ryld wheeled and oriented on the conspirators。 The rogues shot a flight of whistling quarrels； and the F