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th House； Welverin excelled at bat denotspite the seeming impediment of a prosthetic silver leg； and had fought in tandem with Pharaun several times during the night。 Currently he was huddled in a doorway conferring with two of his lieutenants。
〃Weapons Master！〃 Pharaun called。
Welverin looked up and gave him a nod。 〃How can I help you； Master Mizzrym？〃
〃How would you like to help me kill the creature responsible for this innotsurrection？〃
The warrior's eyes narrowed and he said； 〃Is this another of your jokes？〃
〃By no means。 But if we're going to do this； we'd better do it quickly； before our quarry slinks away into the Underdark。 I trust that you and your troops can ride aerial mounts？〃
Pharaun gestured to the giant bats； created by some enchanter； penned in a nearby latticework dome。 It seemed a petty miracle they'd survived the rebellion unsuffocated and unburned。
〃Where do they keep the tack？〃 Welverin asked； peering at the cage。
C h a p t e r
T W E N T Y
F 0 U R
Water dripping from the hem of his cloak； Pharaun found that the layout of the renegades' fortress wasn't quite so perplexing when he wasn't dodging hunters and suffering the brain…jangling aftereffects of a psionic assault。 The empty； echoing rooms and corridors still seemed just as ominous； however； just as fitting an abode for wraiths and malenotdictions。
The Mizzrym watched Welverin and the other warriors of House Freth to see if the place was unsettling them。 It didn't look like it。 Perhaps they were too brave。 Or perhaps the fresh； butchered corpses littering the floor turned their thoughts from shadowy terrors to the monplace violence that was their profession。
They found the bodies； often cut in two or more pieces； lying here and there about the castle。 Pharaun was astonished at the quantity。 Apparently poor wounded Ryld had had a nice long homicidal run of it before the conspirators slew him。 Perhaps it had even required Syrzan to do the job。
In retrospect； Pharaun wondered why the alhoon hadn't joined the search for the escaped prisoners right from the start。 Maybe giving the Call had temporarily depleted its strength。
The Master of Sorcere led the soldiers into a long； spacious hall with a large dais at the far end。 there； no doubt； a matron mother had held court and also dined； judging by the benches and trestle tables stacked in an alcove。 Carved and painted spiders crawled everywhere； a sort of mask； Pharaun supposed； given that the former tenants of the keep had petitioned other deities in private。 Sheets of genuine spiderweb veiled the artwork。
Welverin said； 〃Look。〃
Pharaun turned his head； then caught his breath in surprise。 Ryld Argith had just stepped from the mouth of a servants' passage midway up the left…hand wall。
The weapons master's strides were even and sure despite his wounded leg。 He was noticeably thinner； as if his body was burning fuel at a prodinotgious rate； and somehow he'd recovered Splitter。
The soldiers aimed their crossbows。
〃No！〃 Pharaun said。 Not yet； anyway。
Ryld pivoted toward the newers and stalk