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s magic. She'd have to. Since the demon was invisible and insubstantial,

she wouldn't know it hadn't come  close  enough for the talisman to affect  until

she felt it infesting herself.T

o  make sure she would indeed detect it

She becam              , she sank ever deeper into her trance.

in and out of her lungs. The steady thud e acutely conscious of the rise  of her heartbeat and the surand fall of her chest and the air hissing ge of blood through her arteries. The pressure of her buttocks a

nd spine against the chair. The

feeblest of drafts caressing and cooling her  left profile. The vipers shifting

restlessly,  brushing  her  feet  and  ankles, the

boots.                 touch perceptible even through her

Yet none of the sensations was of any  particular significance. They presented

themselves so vividly only because she'd entered a state of utter dispassionate

quietude, and thus receptivity. A condition in which she would be  ecognizant of events within her mind and soul.             qually

TiShe recalled acquiring this capacity when she herself was a novice in Arach-nilith. She'd learned every divine art easily. It had been one

Lolth had chosen her for greatness. But  relatively speaking, of the signs that this particular

mastery had come  harder than most.  According to Vlondril, unwrinkled but

showing signs of madness even then, it had been because  Quenthel  was  of too dynamic a character. She had no instinct for p

assivity.

state. Vlondril had also said that was always the wayAbruptly the Baenre realized her thoughts were nudging her out of the desired .  The mind didn't like to hush. It wanted to babble. Quenthel t

through he             ook another deep, slow breath, exhaled it r mouth,  and expelled that importunate inner  voice along with  it.Ti

me  passed. She had no idea how much time, nor, immersed in the

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meditation, did she care. The tem

most everyone had exited, or perhaps, in one or two instances, p

ple was  utterly silent, which  surely meant that

erished.

Gradually it dawned on Quenthel that her trance wasn't  quite perfect. The dead

little, and she doubted she could purquiet, proof that all instruction, prayers,much about her role of Mistress of Arge that and rituals had ceased, irked her just a final hint of emotion. She  cared  too ach-Tinilith. She'd c

ome  to  the  Acade

i                                  my ntent  on  making  it  grander  and  more  effective  than  ever  before.  Thus  would  she

honor Lolth and demonstrate her fitness to one day rule the entire city. Instead,

she'd presided over an extended disaster

battered or even dead.         , regular functions  disrupted, residents

It galled her to think how many of her  sister nobles would blame her,  but she k

new  it wasn't her fault.  It was in  large measure the fault of  the teachers and

students themselves. Most who had perished  earned their  detheir idiotic little mutiny                struction by dint of

,  and actually, that  was as it should be. The traitors had violated the precepts of Lolth.

Indeed, when Quenthel thought  about it, the real misfortune might be thatweaklings like Jyslin and  Minolin were still alive.  They were cowards and

whiners, unfit, but they'd  survive merely  because the manifestation of evil hadn't passed their way

,  and because the Baenre herself had sent them to  safety.  Perhaps that had been a mistake.

Quenthel realized she was ruminating once more. With an effort of will she arrested the internal monologue. For a few seconds.

But as Vlondril had taught her,  it was devilishly hard to astraining for it. Besides, Quenthel wa            ttain passivity by

that would guide her steps in the days to come.s pondering important matters, new insights If preserving even the most worthless specimens of her flock constituted an

error,  at least it was one she could rectify.  She'd already slaughtered the

mutineers. How easy,  then, it would be to  butcher those who lacked even the spirit to rebel. She imagined herself stalking among he

their eyes, swinging the whip whenever  she discerned inadequacyr underlings, peering into . The trance state facilitated visualization, and the fantasy was as vivid

as life. She smelled  the

blood and felt it splatter her face. The muscles  of  her whip  arm  clenched  andrelaxed.

Quenthel could kill
 
everyone
 
if necessary. She'clergy was pure and strong again,  Lolth would condescend to sd enjoy it, and perhaps when the

peak.If not, that might mean that all Menzoberranzan required

cleansing,  be

with the First House. Quenthel  would usurp pathetic, indecisive T   ginning riel's throne—not in a hundred years but

now,
 
and preparation be damned. Then, the very next

day,  she  and  her  kin  would  wage  a  war  of  extermination  on  the  thousands  who

served  the  goddess and her chosen prophet with false hearts  or insufficient zeal.

How glorious it would be, and it could begin as soon as she ferreted out thefirst weakling. Her fingers closed on the haft of her whip, or rather th

ey tried

and in so  doing reminded her that she was  in reality holding  the  thin bone  wand.

She'd forgotten all about the magical artifact and the demon as well, and she

could only think of one explanation.  Despite her vigilance, the spirit had

managed to possess her without her realizing it.

For without its influence, those thoughts would never have occurred to her.Destroy her own followers? T

ry to murder  Triel without the vaguest semblance

of a strategy, and fight virtually every other House in the city at once?It wasn'

t  the prospect of wholesale bloodshed that dismayed her—war and

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sense, a deliriumtorture were her birthright and often her delight—but this was evil without that would surely destroy her and conceivably even HouseBaenre along with her

.

Yet  did  it  matter?  She  sensed  the  ecstasy  implicit  in  letting  go.  If  she  permitted

the demon would exalt her                      it, ,  and even if she perished an hour later, what

difference would it make? She'd find more joy in that brief span that in centuries

of mundane life.

For what seemed a long while, she wavered, uncertain whether to manipulate

the wand or cast it aside, take up her consideration enabled her to choose the formwhip, and go hunting. In the end, one

er. No matter how sweet the

temptation to become  a pure and transcendent being, doing so would be to

surrender to the will of her phantom  enemdominate, transform          y,  allowing the faceless spellcaster to

,  and ultimately destroy  her.  Quenthel Baenre could not

embrace defeat.

An instant laterInstead, she snapped the length of bone in two.,  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 wit

of her               hout a source, the entity floated in front ,  then, without turning or shifting any of its amor

quick as a bow shot. It was tiny            phous limbs, receded it only lasted a m       ,  a dot, and gone. Quenthel felt a pang of loss, but

oment. Then she smiled.

Gromph sat before one of the enchanted windows in his hidden chamber.  He'dhcrossed his feet atop a hassock and held  a crystal goblet of black wine in his and.  He'd  thrown  the  stranmust look like the soul of ease awaiting somgely  carved  ivory  casements  wide  and e  pleasant entertaisupposed  he nment.

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 divinations were so oblique and contradictory as to  be useless. Apparently some  able spellcaster had forestalled his efforts. indeed, had m          His genuine spies had turned up nothing, anaged to get themselves strangled in Eastmunknown. The only satisfaction, if one could call it that, was that hiyr by parties s  decoy was still on the loose, still occupying the  priestesses'  attention. Why PharaunMizzrym  had deemed it expedient to slaughter a patrol from the Academthough, was m                            y,ore than Gromph could comprehend.The Baenre wizard hadn't yet mafew nights, he'd  dispatched his conjnaged toured m kill Quenthel, eitherinions, then settled before t. For the past hewindow 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 aswell.  Like  some  bungler  in  a  farce, Gromph had only managed 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 ma

This night, he prayed, would be difddening!    ferent. Quenthel had turned out to be competent at disposing of spirits wearing some  semblance of material form, but

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surely she would prove more vulnerable to an assailant that sliimperceptibly into her mind.                     pped

The enchanted window afforded Grom

Tinilith as if he were but a few feet away. He watched his sister and hph a view of the interior of A