'Are you certain that my mother would approve, aunt?' he said.
That hit home. Jeggred was the son of Matron Mother Baenre. Perhaps Quenthel would risk
Triel's wrath by sacrificing him, but perhaps she would not. Pharaun had his answer with
Quenthel's next words.
'I shall enjoy administering your punishment, nephew,' she said.
Disappointed, Pharaun decided that changing Quenthel's mind was worth another try.
In the most cavalier tone of voice he could summon, he said 'This shaggy dolt has repeatedly disobeyed your instructions, has sided with a minor priestess-' he nodded with contempt at
Danifae-'and has shown himself unworthy of the Baenre name. His folly is exceeded only by his stink. If you will not sacrifice him, please allow me to kill him. It would be a favor to intelligent life in the multiverse.'
Jeggred glared hate.
Quenthel didn't look at Pharaun but answered, 'You will do nothing unless I allow it, Master
Mizzrym.'
'Mistress. .' Pharaun began.
'Only if I allow it, male,' Quenthel snapped, and her serpents fixed Pharaun with a stare.
The mage ground his teeth in frustration but managed a halfhearted bow.
'The mage's insolence and the influence of that cursed whip is what shows your weakness,
aunt,' Jeggred growled.
Pharaun brought the magical fist to his side.
'Enough,' Danifae said. She looked to Quenthel and withdrew her holy symbol.
Quenthel did the same. They stared at one another for a moment.
'Perhaps some protective spells before we attempt the pass?' Danifae said.
Quenthel nodded.
Both began to cast, eyeing the other the while.
Pharaun saw the look in each of their eyes and was not certain that defensive spells were what either had in mind.
Gromph moved methodically through the unending series of wards. Sometimes he used brute magical force, dispelling or destroying them; sometimes he used subtlety and misdirection,
bending or warping the magical defenses for a time while he slipped past.
He focused entirely on House Agrach Dyrr's arcane defenses, barely noticing the passing Dyrr soldiers or the second foiled attack on the bridge by the Xorlarrin.
With each ward he overcame, he moved nearer to Lolth's temple, nearer to the golem and the phylactery.
The wards and spell traps cast in days or years past by Yasraena or a previous matron mother provided little challenge for Gromph's counterspells. Only those cast by the lichdrow proved difficult to bypass or dispel, but always Gromph prevailed.
And always the lichdrow's master ward, the thread that strung all of the others together,
reactivated those that Gromph deactivated. Gromph opened and unlocked two score magical
'doors' on his way in, only to watch the master ward close and relock them behind him. He did not fully understand the lichdrow's purpose and had no time to think on it more.
Time passed, but Gromph had no way to measure it. He assumed he had been at the wards an hour and a half or more. Soon, the spell that allowed him to change shape-the spell that had allowed Prath to take his form and him to take that of the shadow-would expire. He would no longer be incorporeal. Prath would no longer look like Gromph.
At that point, Yasraena would surely recognize the deception, assume that Gromph was within the complex, and muster all of the resources at her disposal to find him.
He put that possibility out of his mind and focused on the next defense, a spell trap that would imprison him in a cage of force if he attempted to bypass the ward's outer border. The forcecage could hold him even in incorporeal form.
Just as he prepared to dispel it, he noticed a subtle twist to the ward.
It was not one ward but two, the second cleverly masked by the first.
The hidden ward would be triggered by dispelling the first and held a latent spell that caused a few moments of agonizing pain before stopping the target's heart.
Gromph admonished himself for his carelessness. He was mentally exhausted, and fatigue was making him sloppy. He had almost made a fatal mistake.
He took a moment to refocus before dispelling the wards in the proper sequence. As he passed through the area, the master ward reactivated them both behind him.
Gromph continued on.
The temple doors, themselves heavily warded, stood tantalizing near. He moved rapidly through the two wards that stood between him and the temple as Dyrr soldiers hurried past.
Constructed of finished stone, the temple sported a domed ceiling and a stone-flagged portico with a colonnade. A pair of open bronze double doors, darkened with age and inlaid with electrum spider motifs and prayers to Lolth, opened onto the nave.
Within, Gromph could see stone benches lining either side of the center aisle, which led up to the apse and the altar. He could not quite make out the golem, though he knew it to be positioned behind the altar.
The temple appeared unoccupied. The House was too busy defending itself to spend time in worship.
Several powerful wards and spell traps shielded the doors. The master ward twisted through all of them and extended into the temple, straight up the center aisle, presumably right into the spider golem.
Gromph floated before the lines of power and cast several spells that enabled him to analyze the wards' natures. He removed one of his divining wands and stared through its tip while he cast.
He saw that the wards on the doors were heavily intertwined, heavily interdependent. He was not sure he could unravel them.
Frustration made his pulse pound. He tried to calm himself, but then he sensed something behind him and turned around.
A drow female, Yasraena's daughter Larikal, walked toward the open doors of the temple. Her mesh armor hid her overlarge frame. A large mace hung from her belt. Her bland, unattractive face wore an angry scowl.
A balding, portly male walked beside her, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his black robe-
Geremis, Gromph remembered, and thought that he looked much like Nauzhror.
Both Larikal and the wizard glowed various hues in Gromph's sight. Personal protective spells sheathed both of them. Magical trinkets and weapons adorned each. Gromph read their lips as they walked.
'I will not tolerate your failure much longer, male,' Larikal said.
Like all drow males, Geremis had the good sense to accept the admonishment without comment.
'The phylactery is within the fortress,' the priestess continued. 'You and your undermages must find it within the hour. Or the next time you enter this temple with me, it will be as a sacrifice to Lolth.'
'Yes, Mistress Larikal,' Geremis replied.
Larikal and the mage walked right through Gromph's incorporeal form-it felt to Gromph as though a breeze passed through him-and stepped through the temple's open doorway. The wards on the doors shimmered at their passage, briefly encapsulating each in crimson light as they walked across the threshold. Neither had spoken a command word or made any sign so Gromph reasoned that the wards must be attuned to something they wore or perhaps to their very bodies.
Just beyond the doorway, Geremis stopped. He turned, a curious look on his round face, and looked back at the space Gromph occupied.
Gromph cursed and froze. Fearing that the mage had sensed him somehow, he prepared a spell that would immolate Geremis, assuming it could get through the mage's personal wards.
Gromph relaxed when Geremis turned away and hurried up the center aisle after the Dyrr daughter. Gromph shifted his position so that he could better see within the temple.
The priestess walked up the aisle, crossed into the apse, and kneeled before the black altar.
Her manner suitably reverent, she used a tinder-twig to light the single candle atop it. Shadows leaped up around the temple. Spiders, some as large as Gromph's fist, crawled over the altar.
