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Ryld gave ground before them。 Houndaer assumed he wanted to put his back against the wall； so neither of his opponents could get behind him； but with an agility astonishing in so massive a fighter； Ryld changed direction。 In the blink of an eye； he was driving forward instead of back； plunging at the halfspider on his left。
Startled； Houndaer faltered； then scrambled toward Ryld and the drider。 It would take him a few heartbeats to close the distance。
In that time； Ryld charged in on Tsabrak's right； the side opposite the creature's sword arm。 A drider's spidery lower half was sufficiently massive that； like a mounted warrior； he had difficulty striking or parrying across his torso。
Tsabrak slashed at the weapons master's head。 The stroke was poorly aimed； and Ryld didn't bother to duck or parry； simply concentrated on his own attack。
Tsabrak made a desperate effort to heave himself aside。 Still； Ryld's broadsword crunched through the top of one of the drider's chitinous legs。 Tsabrak cried out and lurched offbalance。
Stepping； Ryld whirled his weapon around for what would surely be the coup de grace。 Houndaer shouted a war cry； ran a final stride； and swung the greatsword。 He wasn't in a proper stance； and the stroke was a clumsy one； but it sufficed to drive the weapons master back。 Ryld knew better than anyone how deadly was that enormous blade。
As soon as the stroke whizzed past； the master advanced with a thrust to the chest。 Houndaer wrenched the greatsword around for a parry。 It should have been impossible to bring such a huge weapon about so quickly； but it seemed to grow as light as a roll of parchment in his hands。 Ryld's broadsword caught on one of the hooks just above the leathergirt ricasso。
Ryld retreated； snatching his weapon free。 Houndaer shifted the greatsword into a middle guard； and Tsabrak hobbled up beside him。 The drider's face twisted in pain； and pungent fluid spattered rhythmically from his wound。
Ryld continued to back away。 The rogues spread out again； though not so widely as before。 Tsabrak began to make a soft whining sound in the back of his throat。
Then； seemingly without any windup； just a sudden extension of his arm； Ryld threw his sword。 Though the weapon wasn't intended for such an action； it streaked through the air as straight and sure as an arrow。 The point plunged into Tsabrak's chest。
The drider's eyes widened。 He coughed blood； then flopped forward at the waist； dropping his sword。 His spider half； slower to die than the upper portion； continued to limp forward。
It was all right； though； because Ryld had no melee weapon save for a dagger； which would surely be of little use against a blade as long as the greatsword。 Houndaer rushed in to deliver the finishing stroke。
〃Tuin'Tarir he screamed。
His face still as blank as a zombie's； the weapons master dodged to the side。
Houndaer turned； following the target； and saw that Ryld had ducked behind one of a row of wooden mannequins。 Up close； the crudely carved dummies were oddly disquieting figures； smirking identical smiles despite their countless stigmata of dents and gashes。
Ryld stood poised； waiting； and Houndaer discerned the spy's intent。 When his adversary lunged around one side of the dummy； the master would circle in the opposite direction； thus maintaining a barrier between them。
Houndaer saw no reason to play that game； not if his new sword was as keen as it was supposed to be。 He brought the blade around in a low arc。 It tore away the mannequin with scarcely a jolt； depriving Ryld of his pitiful protection。
Unfortunately； the weapons master sprang forward at the very same instant； before Houndaer could pull the greatsword back for another cut。 Ryld slashed at the noble's throat。
Houndaer frantically wrenched himself back； interposing his weapon between himself and the spy； before recognizing that the cut had been more of a feint than anything else。 Ryld had tricked him into assuming a pletely defensive attitude； then seized the opportunity to dash past him。 Houndaer cut at the master's back but only managed to tear his billowing cloak。
The Tuin'Tarl gave chase； and Tsabrak； dying or dead but still mindlessly ambulatory； staggered into his path。 Houndaer shouted in frustration and cut the drider down。
When the hybrid fell； the noble could see what was happening behind him。 Ryld had reached Tsabrak's fallen sword。 Heedless of the venom drying on the blade； the teacher slipped his toe under the weapon； flipped it into the air； and caught it neatly by the hilt。 His expression as unfathomable as ever； he came on guard and advanced。
I can still kill him； Houndaer thought； I still have the reach on him。
Aloud； he shouted； 〃Here〃
Ryld stepped to the verge of the distance； then hovered there。 Confident in his ability to defend； he wanted Houndaer to strike at him。 A fencer couldn't attack without opening himself up。
At first； the noble declined to oblige。 He intended to wait his opponent out。 Ryld beat his blade。
The clanging impact startled a response out of him； but at least it was a posed attack。 Feint to the chest； feint to the flank； cut low and hack the opponent's legs out from underneath him。
Even as he flowed into the final count； he remembered Ryld teaching him the sequence； and sure enough； the instructor wasn't fooled。 He parried the genuine lowline attack； then riposted to Houndaer's wrist。 The broadsword bit through his gauntlet and into the flesh beneath。
Ryld pulled his weapon free in a spatter of gore。 He drove deeper； cutting at Houndaer's torso。 The Tuin'Tarl floundered backward out of the distance； meanwhile heaving the greatsword back into a threatening position。
His bloody wrist throbbed； and the huge blade trembled。 It was brutally hard to hold it up； its enchantments notwithstanding。 He choked up on it； his weakened hand clutching the ricasso； but that only helped a little。 He listened for the sound of another party of rogues rushing to his aid。 He didn't hear it。
〃Well done； Master Argith〃 Houndaer declared。 〃I declare myself beaten。 I yield。〃
Ryld stalked forward； broadsword at the ready。
〃Please〃 said the Tuin'Tarl。 〃We always got along； didn't we？ I was one of your most dutiful students； and I can help you get out of here。〃
The teacher kept ing； and Houndaer saw that his face wasn't empty or expressionless after all。 It might be devoid of emotion； but it revealed a preternatural； almost demonic concentration； focused entirely on slaughter。
Houndaer saw his own inescapable death there； and； suffused with a strange calm； he lowered the greatsword。 Ryid's blade sheared into his chest an instant later。
The echoing metallic crash startled Quenthel。 It was well that she'd spent a lifetime learning self control； for otherwise； she might have cried out in dismay。
She and her squad were patrolling the temple。 After the events of the past four nights it would have been mad to relax their vigilance； but as the hours had crept uneventfully by； her troops began to speculate that the siege was over。 After all； it was supposed to be。 The bone wand had supposedly turned the malignancy of the past night's sending back on she who cast the curse。
Yet Quenthel had found she wasn't quite ready to share in the general optimism。 Yes； she'd turned an attack back on its source； but that didn't necessarily mean her faceless enemy had succumbed to the demon's attentions。 The spellcaster could have survived； and if so； she could keep right on dispatching her unearthly assassins。
From the sound of it； another such had just broken in； and Quenthel didn't have another little bone wand。
For a moment； the Baenre felt a surge of fear； perhaps even despair； and she swallowed it down。
〃Follow me；〃 she snapped。
Perhaps her subordinates would prove of some use for a change。
Their tread silent in their enchanted boots； the priestesses trotted in the direction of the noise。 Greenish torchlight splashed their shadows on the walls。 Parchment rattled as one novice fumbled open a scroll。 Female voices began to shout。 Power reddened the air for an instant and brushed a gritty； pricking feeling across the priestesses' skin。
〃It's not a demon；〃 said Yngoth； twisting up from the whip handle to place his eyes on a level with Quenthel's own。 Her stride made his scaly wedge of a head bob up and down。
〃No？〃 she asked。 〃Has my enemy e to continue our duel in person？〃
She hoped so。 With her minions at her back； Quenthel would have a good chance of crushing the arrogant fool。
But alas； it wasn't so。 Her course led her to the entry hall with the spider statues。 The poor battered valves hung breached and crooked once again。 This time the culprit was a huge； disembodied； luminous hand； floating open with fingers up as if signaling someone to halt。 A lanky male in a baggy cloak had taken shelter behind the translucent manifestation from the spears and arrows that several priestesses were sending his way。
Quenthel sighed； because she knew the lunatic； and he couldn't possibly be her unknown foe。 By all accounts； he'd been too busy down in the city the past few days。
She gestured with the whip； terminating the barrage of missiles。
〃Master Mizzrym；〃 she called。 〃You pound your crimes by breaking in where no male may e unbidden。〃
Phar