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he burning darkness splashed over the orbs； but only for a second； and it kept ing。
Unable to outrun it； hoping she'd at least softened it up a little； Quennotthel shouted her goddess's name and lunged to meet it。 Sheathed in dark…fire； her whole body was a weapon and would burn the spider wherever it touched。 Where the black flame on the monster's limbs was giving way to yellow； it could burn her； too； but not if she didn't let it。 Their natural savnotagery overing their fear of fire； the whip vipers lashed and struck in a frenzy of bloodlust。
At first； swinging the whip； ducking and dodging； she kept hernotself clear of the spider's mandibles。 She shifted left when she should have jumped right； and the razor…sharp pincers snapped shut around her。
They stopped short of piercing her flesh。 Loath to clasp her blazing body and be seared thereby； the spider faltered for just an instant。 Before it could muster the will to proceed； Quenthel struck a final blow。
The ophidian lashes crashed through the demon's charred and tattered visage and bit into what lay beneath。 The spider jerked； froze； twitched two of its legs in a purposeless way； and the burning hulk of it slowly sank to the floor； just as Quenthel's spell elapsed and all the dark fire still cracknotling in the chamber winked out of existence。
She shouted in exultation。 Equally ecstatic； only a little singed； the vipers danced at the end of the scourge。 Everyone's good mood lasted just as long as it took for the Baenre priestess； clad primarily in smoke and ash； to turn toward the door。
Though she'd been far too busy to notice hitherto； at some point a number of teachers and students had evidently crowded into the space to watch the battle。 They were watching Quenthel still； eyes wide； faces uncertain。
〃It was a desecration；〃 said Quenthel。 〃A mockery。〃
She stared at them with haughty expectation。
They peered back at her for a moment； then folded their hands and bowed their heads in obeisance。
C h a p t e r
T H R E E
Tall and lithe； the left side of her otherwise handsome face creased with an old battle scar of which； she recognized； she was rather foolishly proud； Greyanna Mizzrym entered her mother's presence dirty； sweaty； and still clad in her mail shirt。 Greyanna knew Mother didn't like for her daughters and other chattels to e to meet with her fully armed； but she had an excuse。 She'd just returned from an inspection tour of Mizzrym operations in Bauthwaf…〃around…cloak；〃 as the dangerous network of tunnels imnotmediately surrounding Menzoberranzan was called…only to hear from a frantic functionary bearing the fresh marks of a whip of fangs that the matron mother wished to see her as soon as possible。
Actually； even knowing the articles likely wouldn't save her if things went horribly wrong； Greyanna rather liked having a justification to walk in on her parent with her mace in her hand and her shield on her arm。 She couldn't think of any reason why Mother would have decided to kill her at this particular point in time； but one coul