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〃Guard！〃 she called。
This time she didn't hear an answer and wasn't surprised。 The invader's presence suggested the sentry was either a traitor or dead。
Quenthel sensed something rushing at her。 She flung herself sideways； and something crashed against the patch of wall immediately behind the space she'd just vacated。 The stone floor chilled her through her gauzy wisp of a chemise。
As planned； she fetched up against the stand where she kept certain small pieces of her regalia。 She leaped up and groped about the rectangunotlar stone tabletop。 To her disgust； a couple items rattled to the floor； but then her fingers closed on a medallion of beautifully cut glass。
Squinting； she invoked the trinket's power。 A dazzling glare blazed through the room。 Quenthel had to shield her own eyes； hoping the ternotrible light would destroy a living darkness altogether。
The magic light and the equally supernatural darkness made for a split second when the lighting in the room was as it was before the creature had entered。 At least Quenthel could open her eyes。
Her assailant； seemingly unaffected by the light； was a ragged central blot with long； tattered arms snaking throughout the room； ubiquitous as smoke。 Drinking in all the glow； reflecting none； it was dead black and deceptively flat…looking。 It thrust a long； thin probe at the medalnotlion and Quenthel jerked the token aside。 The shaft of blackness veered； pensating； and struck the medallion hard enough to knock it out of her hand。 The light died instantly when the glass medallion shattered on the floor。
Fortunately； the illumination had lasted long enough for her to note the locations of several other objects on the stand。 She instinctively ducked； the tentacle swept over her head and tousled her hair； and she grabbed a scroll。 As before； she would regret expending any of the spells contained therein； but she'd regret dying even more。
Conversant with the contents of the parchment； she didn't need to see the trigger phrase to 〃read〃 it。 She recited the words； and a shaft of yellow flame roared down from the ceiling through the spot where the core of the demon had been floating。 The firelight showed that it was still there。 The blaze passed right through it； and all its arms and streamers of murk convulsed。
The column of flame vanished after a moment； leaving； despite the care the drow had taken to shield her eyes； a haze of afterimage bisecting her vision。 It took her a second to realize that dull； wavering stripe was the only thing she could see。 The darkness had survived。 It had clotted its essence around her to seal her eyes once more。
You're a tough one； she thought； sending the unspoken words to the mind of the demon as she； a divine emissary of Lolth； was trained to do。
There was no response； and Quenthel felt no connection made between her mind and the consciousness of the demon。 This was no servant of Lolth's。
Alive and impossible to mand； it would surely grab or strike at her； and this time intuition was failing her。 She had no idea from where the attack would e； so she didn't know which way to dodge to evade it。 She simply had to guess； jump somewhere and not let blindness and innotdecision delay her。 She pivoted； and something struck her shoulder。
At first it was just a startling jolt； then pain burned at the point of impact； and wet blood flowed。 Either the darkness could harden its memnotbers into claws or else it had picked up a blade from somewhere in the chamber。
Quenthel was glad her teachers had taught her to suffer a wound withnotout the shock of it freezing her in her tracks； helpless to avert h