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Spellcasters。　The　thought　reminded　him　of　Pharaun。　It　brought　the　shock　and　anger　flooding　back。
But　at　the　moment；　those　feelings　were　an　impediment。　He　had　to　relax　and　empty　his　mind。
He　could　heal　the　wound　Syrzan　had　left　inside　his　head。　He　could　stop　his　leg　bleeding。　He　could　banish　pain　and　fatigue　and　tap　his　body's　deepnotest　reservoirs　of　strength。
If　only　the　enemy　gave　him　time。

Pharaun　groped　his　way　onward　for　just　a　few　more　minutes；　then　found　another　staircase；　this　one　a　narrow　spiral　leading　downward。　It　was　almost　as　if　the　mysteriously　silent　Lolth　had　returned　long　enough　to　reward　him　for　his　treachery。
If　so；　he　soon　had　cause　to　recall　that　she　was　a　fickle　and　treacherous　entity　herself。　He　reached　the　bottom　of　the　steps；　headed　down　a　hallway　with　a　high；　arched　ceiling；　and　heard　another　band　of　hunters。　It　sounded　as　if　they　were　just　about　to　round　the　corner　dead　ahead。　Pharaun　looked　around　at　the　blank　walls。　The　corridor　lacked　any　doorways　into　which　a　fugitive　might　duck。
The　wizard　could　run；　but　he　didn't　want　to　retreat　back　the　way　he'd　e。　He　could　evoke　a　curtain　of　darkness；　but　that　would　alert　the　rogues　that　someone　was　hiding　behind　it。　He　could　throw　darts　of　force；　but　it　would　exhaust　his　offensive　magic。　He　decided　to　take　a　chance。
Concentrating　on　the　stolen　House　insignia；　he　shed　his　weight　and　floated　upward　to　stretch　out　horizontally；　his　spine　pressed　against　the　crest　of　the　rounded　ceiling。
The　hunters　passed　below　him；　oblivious　to　his　presence。　He　stared　down；　looking　for　a　fellow　mage。　If　there　was　a　chance　he　could　obtain　new　spell　foci；　he　might　attack　and　the　odds　be　damned；　but　the　males　were　all　warriors。
Once　they'd　gone　by；　he　drifted　back　down　to　the　ground　and　skulked　onward。　He　got　turned　around　once　more；　then　unexpectedly　found　himnotself　before　a　small　service　entrance　to　a　stable　much　like　the　one　in　his　family's　castle。　Moldy　stone　troughs；　casks；　mounting　blocks；　and　rusty　iron…ring　hitches　defined　regular　patterns　across　the　floor；　while　musty；　rotting　tack　hung　along　the　walls。　The　aerial　steeds　were　long　gone；　stolen　by　the　conquerors；　evidently；　as　he　didn't　see　any　bones。　Two　rogues　stood　watch；　guarding　the　huge　sliding　doors。
Pharaun　smiled；　threw　his　last　darts　of　light；　and；　without　waiting　to　see　how　much　damage　they　did；　broke　from　cover　and　sprinted　toward　the　sentries。
One　renegade　coughed　blood　and　fell。　The　other　appeared　unaffected。　A　nice…looking　fellow　with　a　single　elegant　tendril　dangling　beside　each　cheek；　he　turned；　spotted　Pharaun；　and　calmly　lifted　his　crossbow。
The　wizard　threw　himself　flat；　and　the　bolt　whizzed　over　his　head。　Still　prone；　he　shot　his　own　crossbow。　The　shaft　plunged　into　the　renegade's　chest。
The　rogue　snarled；　drew　his　scimitar；　and　advanced；　but　only　for　three　steps。　He　stopped；　and　his　arm　fell；　his　sword　clattering　against　the　floor。　An　astonished　look　on　his　face；　he　dropped　to　his　knees。
Rising；　Pharaun　noticed　that　the　dying　male's　garments　were　as　tasteful　as　his　coiffure。
〃Who's　your　tailor？〃　Pharaun　asked；　but　the　renegade　merely　fell　facenotdown。　〃Ah；　well。〃
The　wizard　strode　on　to　one　of　the　outside　doors；　unbolted　it；　and　shoved　it　open。　Perhaps　the　casters　were　magical；　for　they　worked　as　well　as　ever。　The　panel　rolled　easily　and　quietly　aside。
On　the　other　side　was　a　sheer　drop　to　the　glowing　palaces　a　thousand　feet　below。　Silently　thanking　the　dead　guard's　House；　he　touched　the　stolen　brooch　and　sprang　over　the　edge。




























C　h　a　p　t　e　r

T　W　E　N　T　Y
T　W　O
Pharaun　could　float　down　a　thousand　feet；　or　he　could　fall；　relying　on　levitation　to　slow　his　descent　at　the　end。　The　latter　course　was　dangerous。　If　he　waited　too　long　to　counteract　the　pull　of　gravity；　he　would　break　bones　or　even　pulp　himself　when　he　landed。
Still；　he　chose　to　plummet；　because　of　what　he　saw　beneath　him。
He'd　lost　track　of　time　inside　the　rogues'　citadel；　but　it　was　plain　that　the　Call　had　gone　forth　around　the　black　death　of　Narbondel；　when　most　dark　elves　had　gone　home　for　the　night。　W