n enabled her to choose the former。 No matter how sweet the temptation to bee a pure and transcendent being； doing so would be to surrender to the will of her phantom enemy； allowing the faceless spellcaster to dominate； transform； and ultimately destroy her。 Quenthel Baenre could not embrace defeat。
Instead； she snapped the length of bone in two。
An instant later； she felt an extraordinary lightness and clarity in her head； a sign that the demon had departed； as； in fact； her eyes confirmed。 Vaguely visible at last； a misshapen shadow without a source； the entity floated in front of her； then； without turning or shifting any of its amornotphous limbs； receded quick as a bow shot。 It was tiny； a dot； and gone。 Quenthel felt a pang of loss； but it only lasted a moment。 Then she smiled。
Gromph sat before one of the enchanted windows in his hidden chamnotber。 He'd crossed his feet atop a hassock and held a crystal goblet of black wine in his hand。 He'd thrown the strangely carved ivory casements wide and supposed he must look like the soul of ease awaiting some pleasant entertainment。
Well； that was the hope； but despite himself the Archmage of Menzoberranzan was growing used to disappointment。
He hadn't made any progress in finding the runaway males。 His divinanottions were so oblique and contradictory as to be useless。 Apparently some able spellcaster had forestalled his efforts。 His genuine spies had turned up nothing； indeed； had managed to get themselves strangled in Eastmyr by parties unknown。 The only satisfaction； if one could call it that； was that his decoy was still on the loose； still occupying the priestesses' attention。 Why Pharaun Mizzrym had deemed it expedient to slaughter a patrol from the Academy； though； was more than Gromph could prehend。
The Baenre wizard hadn't yet managed to kill Quenthel； either。 For the past few nights； he'd dispatched his conjured minions； then settled before the window to watch them do his bidding。 Impossibly； even stripped of her magic； his sister had disposed of the first three spirits and the traitors he'd inspired as well。 Like some bungler in a farce； Gromph had only mannotaged to account for a few lesser clerics with whom he had no quarrel； who would otherwise have gone on to contribute to the strength of Menzober…ranzan and the House that controlled it。 It was maddening！
This night； he prayed； would be different。 Quenthel had turned out to be petent at disposing of spirits wearing some semblance of material form； but surely she would prove more vulnerable to an assailant that slipped imperceptibly into her mind。
The enchanted window afforded Gromph a view of the interior of Arach…Tinilith as if he were but a few feet away。 He watched his sister and her squad encounter wretches whom the spirit had already overwhelmed with the infusion of an evil more profound than any mortal； even a dark elf； could readily bear。 He looked for some sign that Quenthel was grownoting afraid。 The indication would be subtle if she let it slip at all； but pernothaps a brother would spot it。
He didn't； and eventually Quenthel ordered her minions to evacuate the building and sat down to meditate。
The Archmage frowned。 Evidently the imperious bitch had figured out what was going on and had in a sense responded appropriately。 But it shouldn't matter。 He'd withstood contact with the ultimate essence of evil； but he was the greatest wizard in the world and had taken precautions。 Quenthel enjoyed neither advantage。
In time； a sublime cruelty twisted her features。 Gromph exclaimed in triumph； for the netherspirit plainly had her in its grasp。 Evidently she wasn't going to drop dead of an aneurysm or mit suicide； but no matter： she was doomed。 Her personality erased； consumed by the notpulsion to degrade and destroy； she was bound to provoke someone into killing her。
Then she broke the skinny white wand in two； unleashing a magic that thrust the netherspirit out of her。 Gromph； for all his knowledge； had never seen anything quite like it。 Taking on just a hint of palpable form； his agent fled the scene。
The Baenre wizard bolted up in his chair and threw his goblet； smashnoting it against the wall。 He cursed foully； and the malignancy in his words； hammering through the black lotus…scented air； made the greenish flames of the everlasting candles gutter。
Struggling for posure； he told himself it didn't matter。 He'd get her eventually。 He'd throw entity after entity at her until 。 。 。
But what had happened to the netherspirit？ Constrained by Gromph's mand； it should have kept attacking until either it toppled the pillars of Quenthel's reason or she destroyed it。 Instead； it had run away。
The mistress's unfamiliar magic had broken the binding…so much was clear…but where had the creature gone？ Back to its own world？ Probably； but something…a slight acceleration of his heartbeat or a subtle prickling on the back of his neck； perhaps…made Gromph want to check。
The casement responded to his will。 Framed in that rectangular space； the netherspirit； still visible； perhaps as tangible as smoke； half flew； half bounded down one of the labyrinthine corridors of Sorcere。 A defensive ward activated； piercing the intruder with crisscrossing shafts of yellow light； but it tore itself free and charged on。 A blue…gowned master peered out the door of his sanctum； spotted the wraith； started to conjure； and the intruder stopped him with a sweep of a shadowy paw。 The blow didn't rock the wizard backward or leave a mark； but he fell like a block of stone。
Gromph surmised his erstwhile agent was ing after him。 Either it was angry over its forced servitude； or Quenth