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aside； pivoted； and swung the war hammer in an overhand blow。
Under those circumstances； she had little chance of smashing the thing's heart； but she'd seen that Umrae could suffer pain。 Perhaps the initial blow would freeze the undead thing in place for an instant； affording Faeryl the opportunity for what she prayed would be the finishing stroke。
The ambassador had timed the move properly； and the weapon's basalt head smashed into Umrae's flank。 Deprived of her victim； unexpectedly battered； the ghoul slammed into the smooth stone surface of the street with a satisfying crash。 Scraps of flesh broke away from her raddled body； releasing a fresh puff of stench。
Faeryl marked her target； the place on Umrae's chest beneath which her heart ought to lie； and swung Mother's Kiss back for the followup attack。 The traitor rolled and scrambled to her knees。 Faeryl struck； and Umrae lashed out with a taloned hand。 The ghoul caught the war hammer in midflight； tore it out of the ambassador's grip； and sent it spinning to clack down on the ground ten feet away。
Faeryl felt a crazy impulse to turn and go after the thing； but she knew Umrae would rip her apart if she tried。 She back stepped instead。 The inhumanly gaunt spy leaped to her feet—she looked like a pile of sticks spontaneously assembling themselves into a crude facsimile of a person— and pursued。
While retreating； Faeryl started edging around in a looping course that might ultimately bring her to the spot where the hammer lay。 Leering； Umrae moved sideways right along with her in a way that demonstrated she knew exactly what her mistress had in mind and would never permit it。
Well； the aristocrat still had one weapon—pitifully inadequate to the situation though it was—a knife hidden in the belt that gathered her light； supple coat of mail at the waist。 The gold buckle was the hilt； and when she pulled on it； the stubby adamantine blade would slide free。 She started to reach for it； then hesitated。
Against Umrae's talons； long reach； and resistance to harm； the dagger really would be useless 。 。 。 unless Faeryl could get in close enough to use it； and unless she attacked by surprise。
But how in the name of the Demonweb was she to acplish that？ Umrae was rapidly closing the distance； snapping her wings every few steps to lengthen a stride； and for three unnerving backward paces； Faeryl's mind was blank。
Then she remembered the cloak； or rather； the remnants of it； still clutched in her offhand。 Perhaps she could employ it to conceal her drawing of the knife。 The piwafwi was just a sad little mass of tatters； and she was no juggler adept at sleightofhand； but curse it； if clumsy Umrae had palmed a potion vial without her mistress noticing until it was too late； surely the mistress could do as well。
Faeryl had been reflexively moving the cloak around the whole time； so it shouldn't look suspicious for her to cover her waist with it。 At the same time； she hooked the fingers of her weapon hand in the oval hollow at the center of the buckle and pulled。 She had never before had occasion to employ this last desperate means of defense； but in the sixteen years since an artisan had made it to her specifications； she had always kept the knife and scabbard oiled； and the blade easily slid free。
She studied Umrae。 As far as the envoy could tell； the imitation ghoul hadn't seen her bare the dagger； but she doubted she could keep it hidden for more than a second or two。 She had to manufacture a chance for herself quickly if she was to have one at all。
She pretended to stumble。 She hoped her unsteadiness looked genuine。 Umrae had touched her； after all； so it might seem credible that her strength was failing。
The ghoul took the bait。 She leaped forward and seized Faeryl by the forearms。 This time； her claws punched through the envoy's layer of mail and jabbed their tips into her flesh。 At once； a surge of nausea wracked Faeryl； then another。 Retching； she wasn't sure she could still use the knife in any sort of controlled manner。 Perhaps she'd just served herself up to her foe like a plate of mushrooms。
Umrae grinned at Faeryl's seeming—or genuine—helplessness。 The envoy felt the clerk's fingers tense； preparing to flense the meat from her bones； even as she pulled the noble closer and opened her jaws to bite down on her head。
Fighting the sickness and weakness； Faeryl tried to thrust her hand forward。 The effort strained her flesh against the ghoul's talons； tearing her wounds larger and bringing a burst of pain—but then her arm jerked free。 The blade rammed into Umrae's withered chest； slipping cleanly between two ribs and plunging in all the way up to Faeryl's knuckles。
Umrae convulsed and threw back her head for a silent scream。 The spasms jerked her hands and threatened to rip Faeryl apart even without the traitor's conscious intent。 Umrae froze； and toppled backward； carrying her assailant with her。
In contradiction of every tale Faeryl had ever heard； the shape shifter didn't revert to her original form when true death claimed her。 Still horribly sick； the envoy lay for some time in the ghoul's fetid embrace。 Eventually； however； she mustered the trembling strength to pull free of the claws embedded in her bleeding limbs； after which she crawled a few feet away from the winged corpse。
Gradually； despite the sting of her punctures and bruises； she started to feel a little better。 Physically； anyway。 Inside her mind； she was berating herself for an oute that wasn't really a victory at all。
Given that she needed to learn what Umrae knew； not kill her； she'd bungled their encounter from the beginning。 She supposed she should have agreed to the traitor's terms； but she'd been too angry and too proud。 She should also have spotted the vial and fought more skillfully。 If not for luck； it would be she and not her erstwhile scribe lying dead on the stone。
She wondered if her sojourn in Menzoberranzan had diminished her。 Back in Ched Nasad； she had enemies in and outside House Zauvirr to keep her strong and sharp； but in the City of Spiders none had wished her ill。 Had she fotten the habits that protected her for her first two hundred years of life？ If so； she knew she'd better remember them quickly。
The enemy hadn't finished with her。 She wasn't so dull and rusty that she didn't recall how these covert wars unfolded。 It was like a sava game； progressing a step at a time； gradually escalating in ferocity。 Her unknown adversary's first move； though she hadn't known it at the time； had been to turn Umrae and lie to Triel。 Faeryl's countermove was to capture the spy and remove her from the board。 As soon as Umrae missed some prearranged rendezvous； the foe would know her pawn had been taken and advance another piece。 Perhaps it would be the mother。 Perhaps the foe would suggest to Matron Baenre that the time had e to throw Faeryl in a dungeon。
But life wasn't really a sava game。 Faeryl could cheat and make two moves in a row； which in this instance meant truly fleeing Menzoberranzan as soon as possible； before the enemy learned of her agent's demise。
Lightheaded and sourmouthed from her exertions； Faeryl dragged herself to her feet； trudged in search of Mother's Kiss； and wondered just how she would acplish that little miracle。
C h a p t e r
T E N
Cloaked in the semblance of a squat； leatheryskinned ore； whose twisted leg manifestly made him unfit for service in a noble or even merchant House； Pharaun took an experimental bite of his sausage and roll。 The unidentifiable ground meat inside the casing tasted rank and was gristly； as well as cold at the core。
〃By the Demonweb〃 he exclaimed。
〃What？〃 Ryld replied。
The weapons master too appeared to be a scurvy； brokendown ore in grubby rags。 Unbelievably； he was devouring his vile repast without any overt show of repugnance。
〃What？〃 The Master of Sorcere brandished his sausage。 〃This travesty。 This abomination。〃
He headed for the culprit's kiosk； a sad little construction of bone poles and sheets of hide； taking care not to walk too quickly。 His veil of illusion would make it look as if he were limping； but it wouldn't conceal the anomaly of a lame ore covering ground as quickly as one with two good legs。
The longarmed； flatfaced goblin proprietor produced a cudgel from beneath the counter。 Perhaps he was used to plaints。
Pharaun raised a hand and said； 〃I mean no harm。 In fact； I want to help。〃
The goblin's eyes narrowed。 〃Help？〃
〃Yes。 I'll even pay another penny for the privilege。〃 he said as he extracted a copper coin from his purse。 〃I just want to show you something。〃
The cook hesitated； then held out a dirtynailed hand and said； 〃Give。 No tricks。〃
〃No tricks。〃
Pharaun surrendered the coins and to the goblin's surprise； squirmed around the end of the counter and crowded into the miniature kitchen。 He wrapped his hand in a fold of his cloak； slid the hot iron grill with its load of meat from its brackets； and set it aside。
〃First；〃 Pharaun said； 〃you spread the coals evenly at the bottom of the brazier。〃 He picked up a poker and demonstrated。 〃Next； though we don't have time to start from scratch right now； you let them burn to gray。 Only then do you start cooking； with the grill positioned here。〃
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