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sed her hand to her face； perhaps to massage her brow。 No…to lift a tiny vial to her lips！
Faeryl pulled the trigger and her aim was true； but by the time the quarnotrel pierced Umrae's stomach； the secretary's form was changing。 She grew even thinner； shriveling； but taller as well。 Her flesh cooled and stank of corruption； leathery wings sprouted from her shoulder blades； and her eyes sank into her head。 Even her garments altered； blurring and splitting into moldering rags。 No blood flowed from the wound the poisoned dart had made； and it didn't seem to inconvenience her in the slightest。 She didn't even bother to pull the missile out。
Faeryl was furious at herself for allowing Umrae to trick her。 Next time； she'd remember that even a dark elf devoid of beauty； grace； and facile wit； seemingly undone by fear； was yet a drow； born to guile and deception。
The potion had temporarily transformed Umrae into some sort of undead； in which form she likely wouldn't suffer at all from her usual clumsiness。 Had Lolth not forsaken her priestesses； Faeryl might have connottrolled the cadaverous thing with her clerical powers； but that was no longer an option。 Nor were any of her other retainers likely to notice her plight and dash to her rescue。 She had them all too busy packing up the house。
It was unfortunate； because like most undead； except for the lowly corpses and skeletons spell casters reanimated to serve as mindless thralls； Umrae in winged…ghoul form could probably do grievous harm with any strike that so much as grazed the skin； and Faeryl didn't even have a shield to fend her off。 How was she to know the spy would possess such a potent means of defense？
Umrae took a shambling step； then； with a clap of her wings； bounded forward。 Faeryl hastily retreated； dropped the useless crossbow； and opened the clasp of her cloak。 Pulling the garment off her shoulders with one hand； she unsheathed a little adamantine rod with the other。 At a snap of her wrist； the harmless…looking object swelled into Mother's Kiss； the long…hafted； basalt…headed war hammer the females of House Zauvirr had borne since the founding of their line。 Perhaps an enchanted weapon would slay Umrae where the envenomed quarrel had failed。
Faeryl would have to hope so。 Even if she were willing to stand meekly aside and let the traitor fly away； Umrae； her thoughts perhaps colored by the predatory guise she'd assumed； plainly wanted a fight； and the envoy could see no way to evade her。 It would be stupid to evoke darkness and run。 In undead form； Umrae would likely manage better in the murk than its maker did。 It would be even more pointless to try to levitate or ascend through the use of the air…walking charm when the shape shifter could simply spread her ragged wings and follow。
Faeryl waved her piwafwi back and forth at the end of her extended arm； to confuse Umrae and serve as some semblance of a shield。 No one had ever taught Faeryl to fight thusly； but she'd observed warriors practicnoting the technique； and she tried to believe that if mere males could do it； it would surely present no difficulty to a high priestess。
Umrae lunged； Faeryl lashed the cloak in a horizontal arc。 Possibly thanks to luck as much as skill； the garment blocked Umrae's hands。 Her talons snagged in the weave。
Surprised； Umrae faltered in the attack and struggled to free her hands。 Faeryl stepped through and smashed the pointed stone head of her hammer into the center of the servant's carious brow。 Bone crunched； and Umrae's head snapped backward。 A goodly portion of her left profile fell off her skull。
Certain the fig