turned her head to see Zillak wrap a thin wire garrote around the prisoner's neck. When blood began to ooze from under the wire and spittle sprinkled from his mouth, Kyorli paid closer attention. Gromph waited for the prisoner to stop struggling, then die, before he stepped to the next traitor.
"I won't read it!" that one barked, the fear coming off him in waves. "What is this?"
Gromph, aggravated at the waste of time a spell of compulsion would take, tipped his head to the Xorlarrin mage who still stood right behind him and asked, "What color?"
"A garish magenta, Archmage," Jaemas answered.
"Well," Gromph replied, "that won't do at all, will it?"
That was enough for Zillak, who slipped the garrote, still dripping with the first Dyrr cousins blood, around the second's neck. Gromph didn't bother waiting for the prisoner to die before stepping to the third in the circle.
There was a sharp stench of urine that almost made Gromph step back, and a spattering of droplets echoed on the hard stone floor. The archmage blew air out his nostrils to clear the smell.
"Read it," he said to the terrified captive.
"It's a way shelter rune," the terrified Dyrr cousin almost barked. "A way shelter."
Gromph could tell by the feminine timbre in his voice that he was a younger cousin. That was positive in itself. Kyorli, perhaps sensing the boy's fear or drawn to the stench of piss, looked the prisoner in the face and Gromph did his best to keep the rat's gaze fixed on the boy's eyes.
Jaemas Xorlarrin leaned in from behind and said quietly, "A pleasing blood red, Archmage."
Gromph smiled, and the bound prisoner did his best to look away.
"The smaller," Gromph said then listened to the sounds of Prath's robes rustling behind him. "Read it," he said to the prisoner.
The boy looked up, tears streaming down his cheeks, and blinked at the young Baenre, who Gromph knew was holding up the other side of the placard upon which was drawn, half again smaller than the way shelter rune, the number . . . "Five," the prisoner said, his voice squeaking in a most unseemly way.
Gromph smiled and stepped back, Jaemas moving smoothly to get out of his way. "Yes," the archmage said, "this one."
Jaemas snapped his fingers and Prath came quickly back to attend his superiors. The sound of a dark elf being strangled again echoed through the chamber, then again, and seven more times as Zillak executed the rest of the captives, save the one with the sensitive, blood-crimson eyes.
As Zillak went methodically about his bloody work, Gromph, Jaemas, and Prath stripped off their robes to stand barefoot, naked from the waist up, covered only by simple breeches. Gromph concentrated on the sounds of the executions, keeping his mind as clear as he could.
In his rise through a demanding House, then through the ranks of Sorcere, Gromph had seen and done much. He was no stranger to pain and sacrifice and was able to withstand much that would break even other noble drow. He told himself that he would bear the proceedings that day as well, for his own good and for the sake of Menzoberranzan.
He kept mental note of the number of strangulations he heard, and when Zillak was squeezing the last of the life out of the last of the Dyrr captives, he said, "Bring in the table when you're through there, Zillak. Then leave us." "Yes ..." the assassin grunted as he strained through the last execution, "Archmage."
When that last life was spent, Gromph caught a glimpse through Kyorli's eyes of Zillak walking quickly out of the circle of dead, wiping his hands dry on a rag. The surviving Dyrr was crying, and by the sound of it Gromph thought the boy was more ashamed than afraid. He had broken, after all. He had behaved like some . . . goblin-certainly not a drow. Dark elves didn't wet themselves at the prospect of death or torture. Dark elves didn't cry in the face of their enemies-didn't cry at all. If the boy hadn't proved his keen darkvision, Gromph might have thought him half human.
An example, he thought, for us all.
Zillak wheeled in a table upon which were secured four sturdy rothe leather straps. At one end was a drain that emptied into a big glass bottle hanging from the bottom of the table. Zillak left the table where Jaemas Xorlarrin indicated and quickly left the room.
Gromph took hold of Kyorli and cradled the rat in his