The rat thought about that a moment, whiskers twitching. Gromph raised his hand, pressing his palm lightly against the inner surface of the sphere. Kyorli pressed her nose briefly to the spot, then turned and was gone.
Gromph drew a deep breath, preparing for the plunge into the river. Then he chuckled. No need to hold his breath?the magic of the sphere was obviously still sustaining him, or he'd have suffocated long ago in the tiny, confined space. Rocking the sphere forward, he plunged into the river.
Once again the world spun around him, then there was water, the bump of stone walls that sent him reeling, and the occasional flash of a luminescent fish. After some time underwater?how long, Gromph still had no way of measuring, but several miles of tunnel must have swept past?he was thrown against the bottom of the sphere. It was rising rapidly, like a bubble, then it burst up through the water, bobbing on the surface of a large lake.
He'd done it! He'd reached Donigarten!
Righting himself, Gromph attempted to continue as he had before, by rolling the sphere across the surface of the lake. But the sphere only spun in place. Realizing that he'd made a potentially fatal error, Gromph cursed. Unless Kyorli made it back to Menzoberranzan in time and swam out into the lake to help him, he would be at the mercy of the current. Gromph sent out a silent call but heard no answering voice. With a heavy sigh, he braced himself inside the rocking sphere, waiting to see where the current would carry him.
He'd surfaced near the northeastern tip of the island that lay at the center of the lake. Herds of rothe milled aimlessly on its banks. Behind the island, Gromph could make out the glowing spire of Narbondel. Someone had been casting magical fire into the enormous, natural rock pillar in Gromph's absence to mark the start of Menzoberranzan's "day," but for how long? Had he been gone for a month, a year?
As the sphere drifted closer to the island, Gromph once again tried to contact Kyorli but without success. Had the rat simply not had enough time yet to reach the city? Or was something else delaying her? When the lichdrow had imprisoned Gromph, an army of duergar, augmented by tanarukks, had been marching toward the city. Did Gracklstugh's forces block the approaches to Menzoberranzan? Even if they did, surely a rat could slip through their lines.
Gromph tried again.
Kyorli! Are you there?
From somewhere close at hand came a faint tickle of thought?Kyorli, swimming in the lake? Gromph reached out to it, but it was gone.
Something nudged the sphere, rocking it gently.
Kyorli?
Gromph opened his eyes in time to see a hand break the surface of the lake beside him. Enormous purplish fingers wrapped around the sphere, then pulled it underwater. The fingers, coated in a thin layer of slime, smudged the outer surface of the sphere, but through the streaks, Gromph could see a bulbous face with four writhing tentacles where a nose and mouth should be. The illithid's eyes were white and devoid of pupils, but Gromph could sense that it was staring at him as it sculled gently with its free hand, maintaining a position just below the surface of the lake.
Its voice forced itself into Gromph's mind, probing like an infestation of roots through soft, unresisting soil.
A mage, it observed. How delicious!
Chapter Nine
Halisstra's first impulse, as the priestess blew her horn, was to thrust her sword into the woman, but something made her hesitate.
Ryld, however, was quicker to act. He leaped to the still sizzling body of the troll, yanked his short sword from it, and sprinted toward the priestess.
The stranger was quicker, however. Dropping the horn, she sang out a single note and brought her hands together. As her fingers interlocked, branches whipped into place in front of her, weaving themselves together. Ryld crashed headlong into the barrier and was hurled back by it, at the last moment turning his fall into a controlled roll.
As Ryld sprang to his feet, Halisstra heard another woman's voice sing out from the forest behind her. She spun to face the new threat and saw someone moving through the forest. In that same instant dozens of crescent-shaped blades appeared from out of nowhere and began flashing in a tight circle around her and Ryld. The chest-high wall of spinning steel reminded her of the whir of the stirges' wings, overlaid by wet thwacks and snaps as rain-soaked branches and leaves were scythed down, leaving a ring of bare ground no more than four paces from where she and Ryld stood.
Ryld touched his brooch and sprang into the air, but his ankles were immediately caught by the bushes around him, animated by the first priestess's spell. He slashed at them with his sword but the enchanted bush was growing, sprouting new branches faster than he could sever them. For every branch he slashed through, three more sprang up to take its place.
At the same time, the barrier of spinning blades closed in. Halisstra tried to force away through it using Seyll's shield, but two of the blades struck the shield at once, nearly ripping it from her arm. A third jarred into her elbow, grating against her chain mail sleeve. She yanked her arm back and shook numbed fingers.
Through the barrier of blades Halisstra caught glimpses of the priestess who had slain the troll?and the two others who had rushed to join her. Each was nearly naked, like the first, and held a sword in her hand. One of them?the one who was sustaining the barrier of blades?was small for a drow female and had dark brown hair. It took Halisstra a moment to recognize the woman under the black dye she'd rubbed onto her skin?dye that had started to run in the rain?but when she did, she cursed her ill luck. There would be no way that Halisstra could convince the priestesses she was an innocent who had «found» Seyll's armor.
Feliane, a moon elf, had seen Seyll die. Thanks to the magical charm Halisstra had placed upon her, she had readily believed Halisstra's story that she'd stabbed Seyll by accident, after slipping on a wet rock. But once that charm had worn off, Feliane would have realized the truth.
Ryld gave up slashing at the bush that held his feet and stared longingly at his greatsword, which lay just outside the barrier of whirling blades. He glanced at Halisstra and winced.
"If I had Splitter. …"
He didn't have to finish; Halisstra knew exactly what he meant. Had he been able to reach the greatsword, he could have used it to dispel the priestess's magic.
It was up to Halisstra, then.
"I am the one who killed Seyll!" she shouted at the priestesses over the whir of the spinning blades. "But you're making a mistake in killing me."
She laid Seyll's sword and crossbow on the ground, then yanked the chain mail tunic up and over her head. Tossing it beside the weapons, she removed the final thing she'd taken from Seyll's body: the priestess's magic ring.
Avoiding the advancing barrier of blades, she placed the ring on the ground as well and addressed herself to Feliane.
"As Seyll lay dying, she said she had hope for me still. She knew that guilt would force me to redeem myself for the treachery I had committed. That's why I came back, instead of returning to the Underdark, to beg Eilistraee's forgiveness for what I've done."
The whirling blades had passed over Seyll's weapons and chain mail without harming them and had come close enough to force Halisstra back into Ryld, whose legs were completely entangled in the bush that had grown up around him. He twisted at the waist and gave Halisstra a sharp look. She must have sounded very convincing.
Halisstra ignored him, concentrating instead on Feliane. Could she use her voice to overcome the priestess's resistance a second time?
The whirling blades paused in their advance. They were so close Halisstra could feel the wind of them passing; one step forward and she would be cut to pieces.