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your secrets。
〃Perhaps the infusion would even cure your stupidity；〃 Pharaun wheezed； 〃but I fear we'll never know。 Look around。〃
The lich turned； and he felt it jerk with surprise。
The lens of illusion he'd formed in front of the dais made Syrzan look exactly like a certain witty Master of Sorcere； and Pharaun himself renotsemble yet another humble ore。 Once the Mizzrym created it； he'd willed the hand of ice to release the illithid's head； and there came the construct； swooping straight at its originator。
Syrzan threw Pharaun down and faced its creation。 No doubt if left unmolested； it could have averted the construct somehow； but Pharaun found the strength for one more spell。 His labored incantation shattered the floor of the dais； staggering the alhoon and breaking its concentration。
The huge tentacles scooped Syrzan up and conveyed it to the maw behind them； whereupon the strangely shaped mouth began to suck and chew。 The alhoon's own magic mangled him as Pharaun's never had。 The lich faded for a moment； then became opaque and solid again。 It was trying to shift to another plane of existence but couldn't focus past the agony。
After a time； the enormous head blinked out of existence。 Its passing dumped inert chunks of mummified mind flayer on the floor。
Pharaun's strength began to trickle back。 He rummaged through the alhoon's stinking remains until he found his silver ring； then turned his magic on the renegades； though it wasn't really necessary。 Ryld； Welverin； and their cohorts already had the upper hand。
When the last rogue lay dead； the entranced Master of Melee…Magthere sat down cross…legged on the floor。 His chin drooped down onto his chest； and he started to snore。 Silver leg rattling as if a blow had loosened the ponents； Welverin limped over to check him and； Pharaun supposed； tend him as needed。
The Mizzrym thought he ought to take a look as well but when he tried to stand； his head spun； and he had to flop back down。
Triel stood on the balcony gazing down at the city below。 It was virtunotally the same view she'd surveyed on the night of the slave uprising； the burning spectacle that showed her all Menzoberranzan was in turmoil。
The fires were gone。 In their place； cold pools of standing water dotted the streets and hindered traffic。 The rain had flooded cellars and dungeons as well； and it would take time to get rid of it。 No one had anticipated a downpour； not with miles of rock between the City of Spiders and the open sky； and in consequence； no builder had made much provision for drainage。
Someone coughed a discreet little cough。 Triel turned。 Standing in the doorway； Gromph inclined his head。
〃Matron。〃
She felt a thrill of pleasure…relief； actually…at the sight of her brother； who'd e to her so quickly once she'd given him leave。 She took care to mask the feeling。
〃Archmage；〃 she said。 〃Join me。〃
〃Of course。〃
Gromph walked somewhat stiffly toward the balustrade。
In one corner of the terrace； Jeggred slouched on a chair too small for him and gnawed a raw haunch of rothe。 He looked entirely engrossed in his snack； but Triel was