y was made of soft； wet； glistening eyeballs adhering together。 About half of them had the crimson irises characteristic of the drow； while the rest were blue； brown； green； gray…a miscellany of the colors monly found in lesser races。
Her body flowing； her shape warping； Beradax flung herself at her summoner。 Fortunately； she couldn't pass beyond the edge of the pentacle。 She slammed into an unseen barrier with a wet； slapping sound； then renotbounded。
Undeterred； she lunged a second time with the same lack of success。 Her resentment and malice infinite； she would spring a million times if left to her own devices。 Gromph had caught her； trapped her； but something more was needed if they were to converse。 He shoved the ritual dagger into his belly。
Beradax reeled。 The eyeballs prising her own stomach churned and shuddered。 A few fell away from the central mass to fade and vanish in the air。
''Kill you！〃 she screamed； her shrill voice unnaturally loud； her gaping mouth affording a shadowy glimpse of the eyeball bumps lining the intenotrior。 〃I'll kill you； wizard！〃
〃No； slave； you will not；〃 Gromph said。 He realized the chanting and incense had parched his throat； and he swallowed the dryness away。 〃You'll serve me。 You'll calm yourself and submit； unless you want another taste of the blade。〃
〃Kill you！〃
Beradax sprang at him again and kept springing while he pulled the athame back and forth through his abdomen。 Finally she collapsed to her knees。
〃I submit；〃 she growled
〃Good。〃 Gromph extracted the athame。 It didn't leave a tear in his robes or in his flesh； which was to say； the knife's enchantments had worked prenotcisely as expected； hurting the demon rather than him。
Beradax's belly stopped heaving and shaking。
〃What do you want； drow？〃 the creature asked。 〃Information？ Tell me； so I can discharge my errand and depart。〃
〃Not information；〃 the dark elf said。 He'd summoned scores of nether…spirits over the past month； and none had been able to tell him what he wished to know。 He was certain Beradax was no wiser than the rest。 〃I want you to kill my sister Quenthel。〃
Gromph had hated Quenthel for a long time。 She always treated him like some retainer； even though he too was a Baenre； a noble of the First House of Menzoberranzan； and the city's greatest wizard besides。 In her eyes； he thought； only high priestesses deserved respect。
His antipathy only intensified as the two of them attempted to advise their mother； Matron Mother Baenre； the uncrowned queen of Mennotzoberranzan。 Predictably； they'd disagreed on every matter of policy from trade to war to mining and had vexed one another no end。
Gromph's animus intensified still further when Quenthel became Misnottress of Arach…Tinilith； the school for priestesses。 The mistress governed the entire Academy； Sorcere included； and thus Gromph had found himnotself obliged to contend with her…indeed； to suffer her oversight…in this one…time haven as well。
Still； he might have endured Quenthel's arrogance and meddling indefnotinitely； if not for their mother's sudden and unexpected death。
Counseling the former matron mother had been more an honor than a treat。 She generally ignored advice； and her deputies were lucky if she let it go at that。 Often enough； she responded to their suggestions with a tornotrent of abuse。
But Triel； Gromph's other sister and the new head of House Baenre； had； over time； proved to be a different sort of sovereign。 Indecisive； overnotwhelmed by the responsibilities of her new office； she relied heavily on the opinions of her siblings。
That meant the Archmage； though a 〃mere male；〃 could theoretically rule Menzoberranzan from behind the throne； and at long last order all things to please himself。 But only if he disposed of the matron's other counselor； the damnably persuasive Quenthel； who continued to oppose him on virtually every matter。 He'd been contemplating her assassination for a long time； until the present situation afforded him an irresistible opnotportunity。
〃You send me to my death！〃 Beradax protested。
〃Your life or death are of no importance；〃 Gromph replied； 〃only my will matters。 Still； you may survive。 Arach…Tinilith has changed； as you know very well。〃
〃Even now； the Academy is warded by all the old enchantments。〃
〃I'll dissolve the barriers for you。
1 won t go！
〃Nonsense。 You've submitted and must obey。 Stop blathering before I lose my patience。〃
He hefted the athame； and Beradax seemed to slump。
〃Very well； wizard； send me and be damned。 I'll kill her as I will one day butcher you。〃
〃You can't go quite yet。 For all your bluster； you're the lowliest kind of nether spirit； a grub crawling on the floor of Hell； but tonight you'll wear the form of a genuine demon； to make the proper impression on the resinotdents of the temple。〃
〃No？
Gromph lifted his staff in both hands and shouted words of power。 Benotradax howled in agony as her mass of eyeballs flowed and humped into something quite different。
Afterward； Gromph descended to his office。 He had an appointment with a different kind of agent。
As Pharaun Mizzrym and Ryld Argith strolled through the cool air； fresher than that pent up in Melee…Magthere； the latter looked about Tier Breche； realized he hadn't bothered to set foot outside in days； and rather wondered why； for the view was as spectacular as ever。
Tier Breche； home to the Academy since that institution's founding； was a large cavern where the labor of countless spell casters； artisans； and slaves had turned enormous stalagmites and other masses of rocks into three exnottraordinary citadels。 To the east rose pyramidal Melee…Magthere； where