of the crossbow that was strapped to his wrist, but the cleric didn't appear to have spot-ted him.
After a quick scan of the chimney above, the cleric turned his attention downward. Pulling a forked bit of bone out of a pocket of hispiwafwi, he grasped it with the thumb and forefinger of each hand and held it over the chimney, then spoke the words of a spell. The bone glowed with a soft purple light. A moment later, the light coalesced at the point of the V-shaped bone, then erupted into a siz-zling purple spark. The spark began to drift up, then hesitated and drifted slowly and steadily downward. It came to a halt in front of the tunnel Ryld had just climbed out of before it winked out.
The priest turned and signed to someone in the tunnel behind him,They went this way.
That seen, Ryld's suspicions were confirmed. The cleric was from House Jaelre and was seeking vengeance for the death of his high priest.
Ryld watched in silence as the cleric and two well-armed males descended toward the tunnel. The cleric and one of the warriors simply stepped out of the tunnel and drifted magically downward, but the second warrior was forced to climb down the narrow cor-ner of the chimney, his back braced against one wall, hands and feet against the other. Tactically, that was the moment for Ryld to strike - or to flee, since the grunts and scuffing noises the climbing male was making would cover the sound of him entering the tunnel they'd just left.
Ryld didn't care about Quenthel Baenre. He had accompanied her because he'd been ordered to. Valas could take care of himself in a fight, and Danifae was from another city, and no concern of Ryld's. But Pharaun, even though he was a powerful mage, had just been in a fight with a demon. He would be easy pickings for those three. . . .
Flipping back hispiwafwi, Ryld shot hiscrossbow at the cleric. The tiny bolt struck the drow's cheek, plowing a furrow of red across it. As the powerful poison on the barb entered his bloodstream, the cleric sagged in mid-air and was forced to grab at the mouth of one of the tunnels as his levitation magic failed him. Crawling into it, he lay trembling on its stone floor, his lips moving in whispered prayer.
Ryld touched his brooch and dropped like a stone. He twisted as he fell, simultaneously drawing his short sword and lashing out with a foot as he passed the climbing drow. Braced against the rock as he was, the man could do nothing but close his eyes against the kick Ryld aimed at his face. The blow rocked his head back, smashing it into the wall with a loud crack. An instant later, his unconscious body tumbled afterRyld.
Pushing off from a wall, Ryld activated the magic of his brooch a second time, checking his fall. The unconscious drow tumbled past, landing with a bone-snapping thud against the floor far below. In the meantime, the levitating warrior had drawn his weapon: a spiked mace.
Ryld floated down toward him, short sword at the ready. His opponent shouted something - a command word - and the head of his mace burst into bright, magical light. Blinded by the sudden bril-liance, Ryld instinctively twisted aside - and heard the mace strike a shattering blow against the wall beside his head. His foot lashed out a second time but missed its target. The warrior was used to fighting in sunlight and had easily avoided the kick.
Cursing, Ryld summoned a magical darkness that filled the chimney. Neither of them could see, so both had to listen carefully over the sound of the cleric's prayers for the faint shifts of fabric and armor in order to locate his opponent.
A rush of air warned Ryld of a second mace blow. He twisted violently back, inadvertently falling a little as his levitation magic was interrupted. His sword arm brushed the chimney wall - and an in-stant later the mace smashed into his elbow, numbing his arm to the fingertips. He tried to swing, but the sword slipped from his fingers.
The mace smashed in a second time, catching him in the stom-ach. Ryld's breastplate stopped the spikes from penetrating, but even so, the force of the blow made him grunt. His opponent was better than Ryld had expected.
Ryld heard his short sword clatter against the bottom of the chimney, far below. Meanwhile, the cleric's prayer had increased