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il。
The traitor elves of the World Above professed to hate evil。 In reality； Quenthel thought； they feared what they didn't understand。 Thanks to the tutelage of Lolth； the drow did； and having understood it； they emnotbraced it。
For evil； like chaos； was one of the fundamental forces of Creation； manifest in both the macrocosm of the wide world and the microcosm of the individual soul。 As chaos gave rise to possibility and imagination； so evil engendered strength and will。 It made sentient beings aspire to wealth and power。 It enabled them to subjugate； kill； rob； and deceive。 It allowed them to do whatever was required to better themselves with never a cripnotpling flicker of remorse。
Thus； evil was responsible for the existence of civilization and for every great deed any hero had ever performed。 Without it； the peoples of the world would live like animals。 It was amazing that so many races； blinded by false religions and philosophies； had lost sight of this self…evident truth。 In contrast； the dark elves had based a society on it； and that was one of the points of superiority that served to exalt them above all other races。
Paradoxically； though； a touch of the pure black heart of this darkest of all powers could be deadly； just as the highest expression of forting warmth was the fire that consumed。 Even folk who spent their lives in the adoration of evil generally had no real prehension of the endless burnnoting sea of it raging below and beyond the material world； and that was just as well。 Even a fleeting glimpse could convey secrets too huge and fearnotsome for the average mind。 Its touch could annihilate sanity and even identity。 The threat was sufficiently grave that the majority of spellcasters hesitated to regard the force directly。 They preferred to treat with evil at one remove； by dealing with the devils and undead that embodied it。
But it appeared that Quenthel's unknown enemy was the exception。 He'd dipped right into the virulent fountainhead and drawn forth a power that dwelled therein。
That demon was presently intangible； a creature of pure mind。 That was why it seemed to move and act so erratically； it was passing not through physical space； a medium in which it didn't exist； but from consciousness to consciousness； head to head。 And simply through that intimate contact it poisoned its hosts； even if it didn't particularly intend to。 It suffused them with a darkness too big and too powerful for their little minds to sustain
It was searching for Quenthel all the while； to show her the most pronotfound malevolence of all。
She prayed she could endure the venom for just a second； until she worked the Xorlarrin's magic。 She'd have to。 Since the demon was invisible and insubstantial； she wouldn't know it hadn't e close enough for the talisman to affect until she felt it infesting herself。
To make sure she would indeed detect it； she sank ever deeper into her trance。 She became acutely conscious of the rise and fall of her chest and the air hissing in and out of her lungs。 The steady thud of her heartbeat and the surge of blood through her arteries。 The pressure of her buttocks and spine against the chair。 The feeblest of drafts caressing and cooling her left profile。 The vipers shifting restlessly； brushing her feet and ankles； the touch perceptible even through her boots。
Yet none of the sensations was of any particular significance。 They prenotsented themselves so vividly only because she'd entered a state of utter disnotpassionate quietude； and thus receptivity。 A condition in which she would be equally cognizant of events within her mind an