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tting 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 threw himself flat； and the bolt whizzed over his head。 Still prone； he shot his own crossbow。 The shaft plunged into the renegade's chest。
The rogue snarled； drew his scimitar； and advanced； but only for three steps。 He stopped； and his arm fell； his sword clattering against the floor。 An astonished look on his face； he dropped to his knees。
Rising； Pharaun noticed that the dying male's garments were as tasteful as his coiffure。
〃Who's your tailor？〃 Pharaun asked； but the renegade merely fell facenotdown。 〃Ah； well。〃
The wizard strode on to one of the outside doors； unbolted it； and shoved it open。 Perhaps the casters were magical； for they worked as well as ever。 The panel rolled easily and quietly aside。
On the other side was a sheer drop to the glowing palaces a thousand feet below。 Silently thanking the dead guard's House； he touched the stolen brooch and sprang over the edge。
C h a p t e r
T W E N T Y
T W O
Pharaun could float down a thousand feet； or he could fall； relying on levitation to slow his descent at the end。 The latter course was dangerous。 If he waited too long to counteract the pull of gravity； he would break bones or even pulp himself when he landed。
Still； he chose to plummet； because of what he saw beneath him。
He'd lost track of time inside the rogues' citadel； but it was plain that the Call had gone forth around the black death of Narbondel； when most dark elves had gone home for the night。 With few drow about to contest them for possession of the streets； the undercreatures had erupted from their kennels to kill； loot； and destroy。 Pharaun couldn't make out indinotviduals； but he could see the mobs as great surging； formless masses like the living jellies that infested certain caverns； and he could certainly see the fires they were setting。 He could smell the strange； foul smoke of burning stone； and he could hear the goblins shouting。
Perhaps the embattled moners looked to the noble Houses for succor。 If so； they waited in vain。 Sorcerous power flashed white and red from the windows and baileys of the stalactite castles as the nobles strugnotgled with their own rebellious slave soldiers。 For the time being； at least； the drow were pinned down； unable to brace the marauders outside their own walls。
A house was growing larger and larger beneath Pharaun's boots。 He made himself lighter than air but still slammed down hard。 The impact knocked the wind and the sense out of him； and when his wits returned； he was bouncing up