silver disk and a curved hunter's horn. She moved at a full-out sprint, holding above her head a sword whose blade glowed with leaping silver flames.With a piercing, high-pitched shout that sounded like a single note in a song, strong and true, she slashed down with her sword.
The blade bit deep intothe troll's shoulder, then flared. Silver fire spread instantly across the troll's body, blinding Ryld. He winced, expecting to be burned himself, but the wave of heat he'd been an-ticipating never came. The flames seemed to emit song rather than heat, dancing to their own rhythm as they licked over the troll's rub-bery skin.
Bellowing, its flesh blackening under the magical fire, the troll sagged to its knees. Ryld, suddenly able to breathe again as the mas-sive hand fell away from his neck, gasped in a lungful of air. Though fouled by the stench of burning flesh, it had never tasted so sweet. He watched, dumbfounded, as the troll's body crumpled in on itself, the magical, silvery flames destroying it in a matter of heartbeats.
"I thank you, my lady," he told the drow - obviously a mage or a cleric, and a powerful one. He bowed deeply before her. "You have saved both our . . ."
His voice trailed off as he saw the look on the woman's face. She was staring at Halisstra with a look of surprise - and bitter anger. Ryld finally recognized the symbol on the silver disk that hung from the chain at her waist. It was a sword, set against a haloed circle. The symbol of Eilistraee.
"That's Seyll's armor," the cleric said, eyes blazing as she stared at the chain mail Halisstra was wearing. "You're the one who killed her."
The stranger wrenched the horn from her belt and blew a single, prolonged note. An instant later, the horns of her fellow hunters answered.
Chapter Seven
Nimor leaned over the map of Menzoberranzan that had been laid on the floor of the mine, its corners weighted with jagged, fist-sized chunks of silver. He gestured with his rapier.
"The spider we hope to slay has two heads," the drow told the five others - three duergar and two demons - that had gathered around the map. "Cut off either, and the body dies." The point of his blade pricked the southern edge of the city. "One head is here: Qu'ellarz'orl, the plateau where the First House stands." He moved the rapier, pointing to a spot on the northern edge of the city where a smaller cavern bulged off the main one. "The other is Tier Breche, the cavern that houses three of the most important institutions in Menzoberranzan: Sorcere, Melee-Magthere, and, most importantly of all, the great temple of Lolth, Arach-Tinilith."
"Tough stones to crack, both one of them," said Horgar, who stood immediately to Nimor's left.
The gray dwarf prince came barely to the draw's waist but had wider shoulders than the slender Nimor. He scowled down at the map, absently rubbing his bald head with stubby fingers. His two guards - duergar like himself, one of them with a scar that stretched from chin to ear along the cheekbone - kept a wary eye on the pair of half-demons that stood on the opposite side of the map.
"Quite so, Crown Prince," replied Nimor. "Which is why I want the duergar to lead the assault on Tier Breche. A frontal assault down the tunnel from the north. Your troops will establish a siege wall, then, from behind it, use catapults tolob stonefire bombs into Sor-cere and Arach-Tinilith, reducing them to a smoking ruin.
"Easily said," Horgar challenged, "but not easily done. That tun-nel will be thick with jade spiders. We may be able to smash our way through one or two of them butnot all."
Chuckling, Nimor reached into a pocket and pulled out half a dozen flat ovals of green jade, each pierced by a hole through which a silver chain had been threaded and inscribed with a name. Holding them by their chains, Nimor jiggled them so they tinkled together.
"Thanks to an associate who's managed to penetratedeep into Menzoberranzan, I'm able to guarantee you they won't be a problem," he told the duergar.
The scarred prince snorted and said, "And where will the tanarukks be while we're making our attack? Bravely bringing up the rear?"
This elicited a growl from Kaanyr Vhok, who bared perfect teeth and thumped the hilt of the rune-inscribed sword he held against his golden breastplate.
"My Scoured Legion could outfight your mushroom-men any day," he growled, glaring