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e touched the slowlydripping mass of glue and snatched her fingers away； leaving skin behind。
Quenthel started to read another scroll as the air around her stirred； blowing one direction then another。 Hot one second and cold the next； the gusts wafted countless smells； pleasant and foul alike。 She took it for a sign that the demon had drawn very close； and the vipers' warning confirmed it。
Still； she wanted to finish her lesser adversary off before the girl recovered her sight。 She pleted the spell； the exquisitely inked characters burning through the parchment like hot coals。
From the elbow down； the enemy female's left arm rippled and swelled； being an enormous black spider with green markings on its bristling back。 Still attached to the rest of her body； it lunged at her throat and plunged its mandibles in。
Quenthel spun around。 Mauve with golden spots； then white； then half red and half blue； the demon loomed over her。 Most of the time it looked flat； like a hole into some other luminous； turbulent universe； and an observer had only its inconstant outline from which to infer its shape。 Over the course of a couple seconds； it seemed to bee an enormous crab claw； a wagon plete with driver； and a whirling dust devil。 The length of gallery behind it resembled a tunnel carved from melting rainbowcolored slush except for one little stretch。 That section appeared unchanged until Quenthel noticed that the carvings had flipped upside down。
The high priestess scrambled to her feet。 As she rooted in her bag for another scroll； her scourge dangled from her wrist。 The vipers writhed and twisted。
The chaos demon blinked from ochre to a pattern of black and white stripes； and from the form of a simple isosceles triangle to that of an ogre。 Its cry currently a mix of roaring and cawing； it swung its newly acquired club。
Quenthel caught the blow on her buckler。 To her surprise； she didn't feel the slightest shock； but the shield turned blue； changed from round to rectangular； and became many times heavier than it had been before。
The unexpected weight dragged her down to the floor again。 Resembling a cresting wave； the intruder flowed toward her。 She yanked； but her shield arm was caught somehow and wouldn't pull free of the straps。
Rippling from magenta to brown stippled with scarlet； the demon advanced to within inches of her foot。 Quenthel's boot evaporated into wisps of vapor； and pain stabbed through the extremity。
Finally her hand jerked out of its restraints； and she flung herself backward； rolling； her mail whispering against the floor。
When she'd put sufficient distance between herself and her foe； she rose； then faltered。 For an instant； she couldn't locate the fiend； and her mind struggled to make sense of the scene before her。 Green and blue； shaped like an hourglass； the demon was gliding along the ceiling； not the floor。 It was still pursuing her。 The cursed thing was random in every respect save its doggedly murderous intent。
The entity's howl ceased for a moment； then resumed with a peal of childish laughter。 Quenthel snatched and unrolled a scroll； which abruptly turned into a rothe's jawbone。 The air took on a sooty tinge； and her next breath seared her lungs。
Choking； she stumbled back out of the cloud。 She could breathe； though the stinging heat in her throat and chest persisted。 She suspected that； had she inhaled any more of it； the taint might well have killed her。 As it was； it had incapacitated and possibly slain the vipers； who hung inert from the butt of the whip。
She tossed away the jawbone； grabbed another scroll； and started reading the powerful spell contained therein。 Shaped like some hybrid of dragon and wolf； the demon； back on the floor again； advanced without moving its legs。 Though colored the blue and gold of flame； it threw off a bitter chill that threatened to freeze the skin on her face and spoil her recitation with a stammer。
Quenthel thanked the goddess that her own education in ArachTinilith had taught her to transcend disfort。 She forced out the words in the proper manner； and a black blade； like a greatsword without a guard； hilt； or tang； shimmered into existence in front of her。
She smiled。 The floating weapon was a devastating magic known only to the priestesses of Lolth。 Quenthel had never seen any creature resist it。 Though the stone floor was still chilly against the sole of her bare foot； the ghastly cold had passed； and she stood her ground； the blade interposed between her and her pursuer。
〃Do you know what this is？〃 she asked it。 〃It can kill you。 It can kill anything。〃
Certain the demon could hear her thoughts； she sent it the words； Surrender and tell me who sent you； or I'll slice you to pieces。
Emitting a sweet scent she'd never encountered before； looking like a giant frog crudely chiseled from mica with rows of wicked fangs in its sparkling jaws； the chaos demon waddled forward。
Fine； the Baenre thought； be stupid。
Controlling the black blade with her thoughts； she bade it attack。 It hacked a long gash in the top of the frog head and knocked the demon down on its belly。 The edges of the wound burned with scarlet fire。
The intruder turned inky black while flowing into a shape that resembled two dozen hands growing on long； leafy stalks。 The stems stretching and twisting； the creature grabbed for the sword。
Quenthel let the hands seize hold of it； and as she'd expected； the magically keen double edge cut them to pieces； which dropped away onto the floor。 The demon gave a particularly loud cry； which sounded in part like the rhythmic clanging of a hammer beating metal in a fe。 Wincing at the noise； the priestess didn't know if the extreme volume equated to a scream of pain； but she hoped so。
The demon turned into a miniature green tower shaped according to the uncouth architectural notions of some inferior race。 A force surrounding it tugged at the sword as if the keep were a magnet and the conjured weapon； fed of steel。 Quenthel found it easy to pensate for the pull。 She slashed away chunks of masonry。
The tower opened lengthwise like a sarcophagus。 It lurched forward； swallowed the sword； and closed up again。
The entity had caught Quenthel by surprise； but she didn't see why it should matter。 It might even be more effective to cut and stab her foe from the inside。 She used the blade to thrust； felt the point bite； and her psionic link with the weapon snapped。
Startled； she nonetheless reflexively reached for another scroll。 The demon spread out into a low； squirming red and yellow mass。 A hole dilated in the midst of it； and it spat the sword out。 The weapon retained its shape but rippled with shifting colors just as the intruder did； and Quenthel still couldn't feel it with her mind。
She backed away； the blade followed； and； rattling and growling； the demon brought up the rear。 The sword swept back and forth； up and down； while she ducked and dodged。 So far； she was evading it； but it hampered and hurt her simply by being near。 Her mail turned to moss and
crumbled away。 Her flesh throbbed with sudden pains as the demon's power sought to transform it。 One leg turned numb and immobile for a second； and she nearly fell。 Itchy scales grew on her skin then faded away。 Her eyes ached； the world blurred to black； white； and gray； and the colors exploded back into view。 Her identity itself was in flux。 For one instant； she thought the thoughts and felt the soft； alien emotions of an arthritic human seamstress dwelling somewhere in the World Above。
Somehow； despite all such disconcerting phenomena； she managed to read the spell on the scroll and avoid the radiant blade at the same time。
She wasn't sure how this particular parchment had found its way to ArachTinilith。 She questioned that a dark elf had scribed it； for it contained a spell that few drow ever cast。 Indeed； some priestesses would disdain to cast it； because it invoked a force regarded as anathema to their faith。 But Quenthel knew the goddess would want her to use any weapon necessary to vanquish her foe； and it was remotely possible that this magic would prevail where even the supposedly invincible black blade had failed。
Bright； intricate harmonies sang from the empty air。 A field of bluish phosphorescence sprang up around her。 Within it； she could make out intangible geometric forms revolving around one another in plex symmetrical patterns。
The cool radiance expressed the power of order； of law； the antithesis of chaos。 The sword that had bee an extension of the demon's will froze inside it like an insect in amber—and the demon was equally still。 For a moment； at least。 The creature began hitching ever so slightly forward； working itself loose of the restricting magic。
The Mistress of ArachTinilith was essentially a creature of chaos as well； but mortal and native to the material plane； and thus the spell had no power over her。 She wheeled and dashed to the body lying in the doorway。 Only the spider part of it was moving； chewing and slurping on the rest。
The dead girl turned out to be Halavin Symrywin； who'd had the surprisingly good sense to remove all that gaudy； clinking jewelry before attempting to attack by surprise。 The novice had managed the arbalest rather deftly； considering her sore； muti