Resurrection - By R. A. Salvatore Page 0,46

of Danifae's breasts. He did not allow himself to fantasize about her overmuchhe knew how well she played male lust to her advantage. Besides, it was only a matter of time before Quenthel disposed of her.

Pharaun finally decided that he too should spend an hour or two in Reverie. But first, he would cast a ward on his person similar to that which the priestesses had cast. It would alert him should any creature get closer than five paces.

Just as he began to whisper the arcane words to the spell, Pharaun felt a familiar tingle in his mind. He recognized it immediately, and a more pronounced tingle coursed through his flesh. He aborted the casting, delighted that the alu-fiend had tracked them down again.

Well met, Master Mizzrym, Aliisza purred, her mental voice like velvet in his brain.

Despite himself, Pharaun grinned like a first-year apprentice at the gentle touch of her mind on his. While he knew she had her own reasons for tracking him and his companions, he could not deny that he enjoyed her attentions.

Aliisza, my dear, he projected back. We do meet in the strangest locales.

The times are strange, dearest, Aliisza replied. And strange times make for strange bedfellows.

One can only hope, he answered, and grinned still more widely.

Quenthel's watch serpent hissed at his smile. Pharaun let it fade from his face, turned, and looked past the serpent.

Up the forward tunnel a stone's throw, he saw the outline of Jeggred's muscular form. The draegloth sat in a crouch, watching up the tunnel, his broad back to Pharaun and rising and falling with each stinking breath. Pharaun could not tell whether the draegloth was awake or asleep. Unlike the drow, Jeggred required actual sleep.

Quenthel and Danifae both were in Reverie, though both wore scowls. Pharaun was pleased. He would have only to deal with Quenthel's whip serpents.

The priestesses you accompany rest ill at ease, Aliisza said.

It is a racial trait, he answered, sarcastic as always.

They simply need a little something to tire them out first, she said.

A little something? Pharaun answered, playing at being offended.

Aliisza laughed.

What is the Yor'thae? she asked.

The question gave Pharaun a start, but long practice kept it from his face and his surface thoughts. How did Aliisza know anything of the Yor'thae?

Apparently sensing his agitation, the serpent watching Pharaun uttered a soft hiss. Pharaun pretended not to have heard it and settled more comfortably onto his rock.

How do you know that word? he asked.

She let her mental fingers caress his brain playfully. The Lower Planes resound with it. It's in the wind, the screams of tortured souls, the rush of boiling water. What is it, dear heart?

Pharaun heard none but the usual guile in her tone so he answered her truthfully The Yor'thae is Lolth's Chosen.

Oooh, Aliisza said. Which is it, the pretty one or the big one with the whip?

Pharaun could only shake his head.

Maybe it's neither, Aliisza said.

To that Pharaun made no comment, though her statement disquieted him. Her words too closely echoed his own recent thoughts. He decided to change the subject.

Where are you? he asked.

I am invisible. Look around and find me, she answered with a mental smile. If you do, you'll win a prize. With a simple exercise of his will, Pharaun attuned his vision to see invisible objects and creaturesan effect that he had made permanent to his person. Casually, so as not to alarm the whip serpent whose eyes still glared at him, he looked down the tunnel opposite the one in which Jeggred sat, back the way they had come. There, he saw her.

You win, she said.

Aliisza leaned suggestively against the tunnel wall, back arched, arms back, batlike wings furled so as to reveal her lean bodythe sensuous curve of her small breasts, the length of her legs, the turn of her sleek hips. Her long ebony tresses flowed down her back. She was looking at him and smiling. Pharaun found her small fangs more alluring than he cared to admit.

Greetings, lady, he said. I'll just be a moment.

It is ungentlemanly to make a lady wait, she said, a smile in her voice. You will have to make it up to me. Again, Aliisza, he answered, one can only hope.

Her giggle managed to sound both girlish and sexually provocative all at once. He found it thrilling. He looked at the serpent that was eyeing him. It flicked its tongue again.

He leaned back on his rock and closed his eyes as though preparing for Reverie. Fortunately, he knew

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