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party of hunters。 He'd have to stay in one place。 Still； it seemed the better option。
He skulked along the corridor； peering into doorways。 One led to a desnotolate training hall。 The target mannequins looked like ghosts in their shrouds of spiderweb。
Near the right…hand wall were tiers of seats； from which spectators could watch the warriors train。 If Ryld crouched down behind the structure； no one would see him without making a careful search of the entire room。
Besides； the master thought； going to ground in a salle might bring him luck。 The dark powers knew； he needed it。
He limped behind the sculpted seats and sat down on the floor with his legs crossed。 He rested his hands on his thighs； closed his eyes； and notmenced a breathing exercise。
Spellcasters smugly imagined they were the only folk who truly knew how to meditate。 They were mistaken。 The brothers of Melee…Magthere had mastered the practice as well。 It helped them reach the highest level of martial proficiency。
Spellcasters。 The thought reminded him of Pharaun。 It brought the shock and anger flooding back。
But at the moment； those feelings were an impediment。 He had to relax and empty his mind。
He could heal the wound Syrzan had left inside his head。 He could stop his leg bleeding。 He could banish pain and fatigue and tap his body's deepnotest reservoirs of strength。
If only the enemy gave him time。
Pharaun groped his way onward for just a few more minutes； then found another staircase； this one a narrow spiral leading downward。 It was almost as if the mysteriously silent Lolth had returned long enough to reward him for his treachery。
If so； he soon had cause to recall that she was a fickle and treacherous entity herself。 He reached the bottom of the steps； headed down a hallway with a high； arched ceiling； and heard another band of hunters。 It sounded as if they were just about to round the corner dead ahead。 Pharaun looked around at the blank walls。 The corridor lacked any doorways into which a fugitive might duck。
The wizard could run； but he didn't want to retreat back the way he'd e。 He could evoke a curtain of darkness； but that would alert the rogues that someone was hiding behind it。 He could throw darts of force； but it would exhaust his offensive magic。 He decided to take a chance。
Concentrating on the stolen House insignia； he shed his weight and floated upward to stretch out horizontally； his spine pressed against the crest of the rounded ceiling。
The hunters passed below him； oblivious to his presence。 He stared down； looking for a fellow mage。 If there was a chance he could obtain new spell foci； he might attack and the odds be damned； but the males were all warriors。
Once they'd gone by； he drifted back down to the ground and skulked onward。 He got turned around once more； then unexpectedly found himnotself before a small service entrance to a stable much like the one in his family's castle。 Moldy stone troughs； casks； mounting blocks； and rusty iron…ring hitches defined regular patterns across the floor； while musty； rotting tack hung along the walls。 The aerial steeds were long gone； stolen by the conquerors； evidently； as he didn't see any bones。 Two rogues stood watch； guarding the huge sliding doors。
Pharaun smiled； threw his last darts of light； and； without waiting to see how much damage they did； broke from cover and sprinted toward the sentries。
One renegade coughed blood and fell。 The other appeared unaffected。 A nice…looking fellow with a single elegant tendril dangling beside each cheek； he turned； spotted Pharaun； and calmly lifted his crossbow。
The wizard