unfortu-nate enough to have been caught on the drow's side.
In a few moments the screams and impacts of the fight had died away to the dull, attenuated bellowing of the minotaurs on the other side of the wall, milling about and shaking their weapons in anger at the drow. The minotaurs turned away all at once and darted back the way they'd come, running hard. A dozen or more hulking carcasses remained scattered on the floor.
Ryld backed away carefully, helping Valas to his feet. Jeggred stoodpanting, bleeding from a dozen small wounds.
"How long will that wall hold?" Quenthel asked.
"No more than a quarter of an hour," Pharaun answered. "The demons can probably get through it if they wish, but I suspect that they're leading those minotaurs around through other tunnels to come at us from the other side. May I suggest we remove ourselves from the vicinity before we find out how they mean to circumvent my barrier?"
Quenthel scowled, grabbed her pack, and said, "Fine. Let's go."
If it had been in his nature to show alarm by pacing back and forth across his sanctum, Gromph Baenre would have spent most of the previ-ous hour doing so. Instead, he peered into the great crystal ball that rested in the center of his scrying sanctum, confirming Pharaun's report. How exactly had the Master of Sorcere worded it?
Felicitations, mighty Gromph. It may interest you to learn that the army of Gracklstugh now marches on Menzoberranzan. We continue on our course. Good luck!
"Arrogant popinjay," Gromph muttered to himself. The boy had no respect for his elders.
Before dashing off to the matron mothers in a panic, Gromph had of course decided to investigate Pharaun's report with his own careful scrying and study. The milky orb revealed a fine scene for the archmage's eyes, a long column of marching duergar warriors winding through the Underdark. Huge pack lizards carried heavy bundles of supplies and various infernal devices of war. Siege engines trundled along behind long lines of ogre slaves.
Gaining even that glimpse of the army on the move was difficult, as duergar wizards sought to conceal the movements of their prince's army from the scrying efforts of hostile mages. Gromph, however, was an ex-traordinarily capable diviner. It had taken him some time, but he had eventually pierced the duergar wizards' defenses.
Gromph examined the scene closely, seeking out the most minute details - the insignia of marching soldiers, the exact size and condition ofthe tunnels they passed through, the cadence of the Dwarvish marching chants. He wanted to be absolutely certain he understood the scope and immediacy of the threat before he brought his news to the attention of the Council, as the matron mothers would doubtless expect him to have already divined the answers to any questions they might think of. The most disturbing question, of course, was how long it might have taken him to learn of the marching army if Pharaun Mizzrym hadn't been pass-ing through Gracklstugh. The duergar might have covered half the dis-tance between the cities before an outpost or a far-ranging patrol detected the army.
"Damnation," the archmage growled.
Whether or not Menzoberranzan was ready, the next challenge to the city gathered in the smoky pits of the duergar realm a hundred miles to the south. Gromph sighed and decided that he might as well deal with the unpleasant business of telling the Council what he'd seen sooner rather than later. He rose with one smooth motion, arranged his robes, and took up his favorite staff. It would not do to appear before the matron mothers in anything less than complete and total self-assurance, especially when bringing such dire news to them.
He was just about to step into the stone shaft at the rear of the chamber and descend to his apartments in Sorcere when he felt a famil-iar, crawling sensation. Someone was scrying upon him - an accom-plishment of no small skill, considering the steps he took to prevent such occurrences. Gromph started to work a spell to sever the magical spying, but stopped himself. He was engaged in nothing he cared to conceal, and he was curious to discover whether a duergar wizard had managed to detect his own scrying.
"Do you have anything you wish to say to me," he asked the air, "or shall I simply strike you blind where you sit?"
Save your spell, came a cold, rasping voice in his head. As I haven't had eyes in my skull in over a thousand years, I doubt you could do