she reached up to push the creature's hand away from her face.
"Don't be afraid," the creature said in a lovely voice. "Lie down and rest here a while. You are among friends, and no harm will come to you."
Halisstra stood paralyzed, recognizing that the creature's words made no sense, but empty of the willpower she needed to resist. Danifae whirled her away by her arm and slapped her hard across the face.
"It's a lamia!" she snapped. "It seeks to beguile you!"
The lamia snarled in anger, its beautiful features suddenly hard and cruel.
"Do not resist," it said, its voice harsher.
Halisstra could feel the creature's spell drawing over her, sapping at her resolve, seeking to subjugate her will to its own. She knew that if she gave in she would go willingly to her death, even lie down helplessly while the lamia devoured her if it asked her to, but the sting of Danifae's slap had reawakened the wellsprings of her will, just enough to fight through the lamia's sweet words.
"We are drow," Halisstra managed to gasp. "Our wills may not be broken by such as you."
The lamia bared its teeth in fierce anger and drew a bronze dagger from its hip, but Halisstra and Danifae backed out of the shadowed alley into the sun.
The dragon's gone, signed Danifae.
Halisstra shook her head and replied,An illusion. We were deceived.
Something was still hovering in the center of the street, a faint flickering phantasm that might have been about the size of the thing they had seen before, and they could hear as if from very far away its hissing protests.
"Illusion," Danifae spat in disgust.
The dragon-wisp gnawed at the corners of their minds, joined by other, more insistent murmuring and shadows. Buildings seemed to shim-mer and vanish, replaced by ruins of different appearance. Dark and hor-rible things slithered through the rubble, closing off retreat. Ghostly drow dressed in resplendent robes appeared, smiling and happy, calling for them to join them in their blissful revels if only they would surrender first.
The lamia padded softly out into the street after them, holding its dagger behind its back.
"You may resist our enticements for a time," she purred, "but eventu-ally we will wear you down." She reached out with her hand again. "Won't you let me smooth away your cares? Won't you let me touch you again? It would be so much easier."
A swift, graceful movement caught Halisstra's eye, and she glanced quickly to her left. Another lamia, this one male, had leaped to a wall top overshadowing their retreat. He was bronzed and handsome, lithe and tawny, and he smiled cruelly down on them.
"Your journey must have been long and tiresome," he said in voice of gold. "Won't you tell me of your travels? I want to hear all about them."
From the dark doorway of the court of justice, a third lamia emerged.
"Yes, indeed, tell us, tell us," the monster crooned. "What finer way to pass the day, eh? Rest, rest, and let us care for you."
It leaned against a great spear and smiled beatifically at them.
Halisstra and Danifae exchanged a single glance, and fled for their lives.
Gromph Baenre, Archmage of Menzoberranzan, was dissatisfied. Though the slave revolt had been quelled without too much trouble, it disturbed him greatly that so many drow males had made common cause against the matron mothers. Not only that, they had made common cause with slave races to turn against the city. It bespoke desperate fear long suppressed, and something else beside - it suggested an unseen enemy who found a way to give that fear a voice and a mission. Drow simply did not cooperate so easily with each other that a coordinated rebellion could take shape secretly and spring full-grown to life.
The watchful lull that blanketed the city in the aftermath of the crush-ing of the revolt and the illithilich's demise struck Gromph as something malevolent and deceitful.
He stood up from his writing desk and paced across his chamber, thinking. Kyorli, the rat that served as his familiar, eyed him with cool dis-interest as it munched on a slice of rothe cheese.
The sight of the rat somehow reminded the archmage that he hadn't heard from Pharaun in a while. The arrogant popinjay had reported that Ched Nasad was in a state of chaos. Perhaps it was time to check in on him.
Gromph stepped through an archway into an open shaft and levi-tated up to the room that served as his scrying chamber. Of necessity it was somewhat less well warded