magnotically keen double edge cut them to pieces； which dropped away onto the floor。 The demon gave a particularly loud cry； which sounded in part like the rhythmic clanging of a hammer beating metal in a forge。 Wincing at the noise； the priestess didn't know if the extreme volume equated to a scream of pain； but she hoped so。
The demon turned into a miniature green tower shaped according to the uncouth architectural notions of some inferior race。 A force surroundnoting it tugged at the sword as if the keep were a magnet and the conjured weapon； forged of steel。 Quenthel found it easy to pensate for the pull。 She slashed away chunks of masonry。
The tower opened lengthwise like a sarcophagus。 It lurched forward； swallowed the sword； and closed up again。
The entity had caught Quenthel by surprise； but she didn't see why it should matter。 It might even be more effective to cut and stab her foe from the inside。 She used the blade to thrust； felt the point bite； and her psionic link with the weapon snapped。
Startled； she nonetheless reflexively reached for another scroll。 The demon spread out into a low； squirming red and yellow mass。 A hole dinotlated in the midst of it； and it spat the sword out。 The weapon retained its shape but rippled with shifting colors just as the intruder did； and Quennotthel still couldn't feel it with her mind。
She backed away； the blade followed； and； rattling and growling； the demon brought up the rear。 The sword swept back and forth； up and down； while she ducked and dodged。 So far； she was evading it； but it hampered and hurt her simply by being near。 Her mail turned to moss and
crumbled away。 Her flesh throbbed with sudden pains as the demon's power sought to transform it。 One leg turned numb and immobile for a second； and she nearly fell。 Itchy scales grew on her skin then faded away。 Her eyes ached； the world blurred to black； white； and gray； and the colors exploded back into view。 Her identity itself was in flux。 For one instant； she thought the thoughts and felt the soft； alien emotions of an arthritic human seamstress dwelling somewhere in the World Above。
Somehow； despite all such disconcerting phenomena； she managed to read the spell on the scroll and avoid the radiant blade at the same time。
She wasn't sure how this particular parchment had found its way to Arach…Tinilith。 She questioned that a dark elf had scribed it； for it connottained a spell that few drow ever cast。 Indeed； some priestesses would disdain to cast it； because it invoked a force regarded as anathema to their faith。 But Quenthel knew the goddess would want her to use any weapon necessary to vanquish her foe； and it was remotely possible that this magic would prevail where even the supposedly invincible black blade had failed。
Bright； intricate harmonies sang from the empty air。 A field of bluish phosphorescence sprang up around her。 Within it； she could make out innottangible geometric forms revolving around one another in plex symnotmetrical patterns。
The cool radiance expressed the power of order； of law； the antithesis of chaos。 The sword that had bee an extension of the demon's will froze inside it like an insect in amber…and the demon was equally still。 For a moment； at least。 The creature began hitching ever so slightly forward； working itself loose of the restricting magic。
The Mistress of Arach…Tinilith was essentially a creature of chaos as well； but mortal and native to the material plane； and thus the spell had no power over her。 She wheeled and dashed to the body lying in the doorway。 Only the spider part of it was moving； chewing and slurping on the rest。
The dead girl turned out to be Halavin Symrywin； who'd had the surnotprisingly good sense to remove all that gaudy； clinking jewelry before atnottempting to attack by surprise。 The novice had managed the arbalest rather deftly； considering her sore； mutilated hands。
Quenthel stooped to pick up the weapon and the quiver containing the rest of the enchanted quarrels。 She moved warily； but the feasting arachnid paid her no mind。
She turned； laid a dart in the channel； and shot。 When the shaft hit it； the demon shuddered in its nearly immobile form； but didn't die。
It occurred to her that she could get away from it while it was trapped； muster any loyal minions who hadn't partaken of the poisoned supper； and fight the thing at the head of a pany； just as she'd originally intended。 After the harrowing events of the past minutes； the idea had a certain appeal。
But after what she'd endured； she wanted to be the one to teach this vermin a lesson about molesting the clergy of Lolth。 Besides； the appearnotance of strength was vital。 So she kept shooting as fast as the cocking action of the weapon would allow。 The demon inched its way toward her as if it was made of half…cooled magma。
Four bolts left； then three。 She pulled the trigger； the dart struck the demon in the middle of its horned； triangular head； and it winked out of existence。
She could still hear its voice； but knew that was just because it had shrieked so long and loudly。 She gave her head a shake； trying to quell the phantom sound； then glimpsed yet another shadow watching her from some distance away。
〃You！〃 she shouted； cocking the arbalest to receive the penultimate quarrel。 〃e here！〃
The other dark elf bolted。 Quenthel gave chase； but she was still a little winded from the struggle with the demon； and her quarry outdistanced her and disappeared。
The Baenre stalked on through the labyrinthine chambers and corridors until she rounded a bend and came face to face with three of her minions。 The goddess only knew what their true sentim