For some reason that Jeggred could not imagine, Quenthel seemed to be having trouble making her rod work. Only at the last moment did its magic come to life. A glob streaked toward Oothoon - andmissed. As Quenthel flailed back in terror, the aboleth matriarch closed on her, and swallowed the high priestess whole.
For a moment, Jeggred could only stare in horror. His mistress was gone. Eaten. Dead!
Fury seized him. He tore at the sticky mess that held him, heed-less of the skin that was being ripped from his hands and arms. Pant-ing water in and out of his lungs - or perhaps vomiting it up and swallowing it again - he thrashed like a fish caught in a net.
All the while, Oothoon stared at him mockingly, one tentacle stroking a bulge in her stomach.
The sticky mass blocking the doorway tore but did not come free. Tipping his head back in frustration - and tearing out yet more hair that had become stuck in the viscous glob - Jeggred howled in rage and sorrow but at last came to his senses.
The Mistress was wise, he thought. She had foreseen this.
And she had given him an order - a final order that had to be carried out quickly, before the wounded aboleth returned with rein-forcements.
Wrenching himself free of the sticky doorway, Jeggred swam as fast as he could down the corridor, looking for a way out.
Chapter Twenty-one
Pharaun listened dispassionately as Jeggred gasped out his story. The draegloth was dripping wet and still making the transition to breath-ing air again. He sucked in great, gurgling breaths that might have been construed - were they made by a creature that was not demon-spawned - to be sobs.
"She's been eaten," Jeggred said, his head low and all four arms hanging dejectedly at his sides. "Mistress Quenthel is dead."
Pharaun regarded the draegloth coldly and said, "Thanks to you."
The comment normally would have caused Jeggred to leap for-ward, snarling for blood, but instead he stood as quietly as a rothe waiting for slaughter.
Danifae, standing in the tunnel beside the river, glanced at Pharaun.
"Is it even possible?" she asked. "Even without her spells, Mistress Quenthel should have been capable of defeating the aboleth. Her ar-mor and enchantments alone should have protected her from - "
"He said she was swallowed whole," Valas interjected. "She never had a chance."
At the mercenary's blunt words, Jeggred's shoulders slumped still lower. Hunkering down, the draegloth wrapped his smaller arms around his knees and stared blankly at the river.
Pharaun nodded to himself. As Jeggred had been relating what had happened in the aboleth city, Pharaun grew increasingly certain that the draegloth truly believed his mistress was dead.
Danifae touched his arm lightly and asked, "What should we do next, Master Pharaun? You're the leader now - it's your decision."
Pharaun noted how Danifae had glanced at Valas as she spoke, as if she was watching the mercenary for any challenge to Pharaun's leadership.
Valas, having noted the same thing, grunted, then shrugged.
"Yes," he said, meeting Pharaun's eye. "What now? Continue thesearch for the ship of chaos - or make our way back to Menzo-berranzan?"
Pharaun's answer was immediate.
"We're still under orders from the Matron Mother," he told them briskly, "and I am still under orders from the Archmage of Menzoberranzan. Until we hear otherwise, we continue our quest to find out what's happened to Lolth. And that means finding the ship."
Danifae met his eyes and asked, "All of us?"
Pharaun stared at her.
"Since you didn't keep your part of the bargain," he said slowly, watching for Danifae's reaction, "what reason do I have to keep mine?"
Danifae's eyes blazed as she lost her usual control.
"But you promised!" she spat.
Jeggred, sensing the sudden tension in the air, looked up and growled softly. Valas glanced back and forth between Pharaun and Danifae.
"Promised what?" the mercenary asked.
Pharaun ignored the question.
"You made a promise, too," the Master of Sorcere reminded Danifae in a low voice. He patted the spellbook he'd been reading earlier. "When you slipped away to speak to Quenthel, did you hon-estly think I wouldn't listen in?"
Danifae's hands curled into fists at her sides. Pharaun almost ex-pected her to stamp her foot and turn away, but after a moment her fingers slowly uncurled. She stared hardat him as if trying to guess his thoughts, then she tossed her long white hair and gave him a sulky pout.
"You meant me to betray you all along," she said. "You knew it would make Quenthel more