Resurrection by Paul S. Kemp Read Free Book Online Page B

souls to Lolth," she answered.
    "And?" he dared.
    Quenthel stopped and faced him, anger in her face. The serpents of her whip flicked their tongues.
    "And?" she asked.
    Pharaun lowered his gaze but asked, "And what, Mistress? Lolth calls her Yor'thae but what is the Yor'thae to do?"
    For a moment, Quenthel said nothing. Pharaun looked up and found that her gaze was no longer on him.
    "Mistress?" he prompted.
    She came back to herself. "That is not a matter for a mere male," she said.
    Pharaun bowed, his mind racing. He wondered if even Quenthel knew what it was that the Yor'thae was to do, what it was that was happening to Lolth. The possibility that she did not troubled him.
    Quenthel offered nothing further, and they began again to walk.
    Pharaun looked behind him and met Danifae's gaze. She licked her lips, smiled, and pulled up the hood of her cloak.

Chapter Four
    Around Gromph, hundreds of fires crackled and burned. Black smoke poured into the air, casting the bazaar in a surreal haze. Abandoned shops and booths lay in charred heaps of rubble. The blackened, petrified forms of drow merchants-turned to stone by the touch of the lichdrow Dyrr, shapechanged into the form of a black-stone gigant-lay scattered about like castings. Some of the petrified drow had run like candle wax in the heat of the Staff of Power's explosion; they would never be restored to flesh. Gromph gave their fate no further thought.
    Wide, deep scorings from the gigant's thrashings marred the otherwise smooth floor of the bazaar.
    Still dazed from the destruction of the staff, Gromph sat in a heap on the cool stone floor with his legs stretched out before him. Smoke leaked from his clothes. His mind moved sluggishly; his senses felt dull.
    But not so dull that he was not conscious of his pain. A lot of pain.
    Much of his body was burned. He felt as though a million needles were stabbing his skin, as though he had bathed in acid. His once-severed leg still had not fully reattached and sent shooting pains up his thigh and hip. His non-magical clothes-thankfully, not much of his attire-had melted into his flesh, turning his skin into an amalgam of burned meat and cloth. He could imagine how the exposed flesh of his face must look. He was surprised he could still see. He must have closed his eyes-his captured Agrach Dyrr eyes-before the explosion.
    He held two charred sticks in his hands. He stared at them, dumbfounded as to their purpose. In appearance, they reminded him of his forearms-thin and burned almost beyond recognition. It took a moment for him to realize what they were: the remnants of the Staff of Power.
    With a wince, he uncurled his ruined fingers from the wood and let the pieces of the staff clatter to the ground.
    Seeing no movement in the bazaar except Nauzhror, who squatted beside him and clucked nervously, Gromph thought for an absurd moment that the staff's destruction might have annihilated everyone else in Menzoberranzan.
    The stupidity of the thought made him smile, and he instantly regretted even that small movement. The charred skin of his lips cracked, causing him an excruciating stab of pain. Warm fluid seeped from the wound and into his mouth. He gave expression to the pain only with a soft hiss.
    Gromph was no stranger to pain. If he could endure his own rat familiar eating out his eyes and a giant centipede severing his leg, he could abide a few burns.
    "Archmage?" Nauzhror asked. "Shall I assist you?"
    The rotund Master of Sorcere put forth a hand as though to touch Gromph's arm.
    "Don't touch me, fool!" Gromph hissed through the charred ruin of his face. More blood leaked into his mouth. Pus ran from burst blisters.
    Nauzhror recoiled so fast he nearly toppled over. "I-I meant only to aid you, Archmage," he stammered.
    Gromph sighed, regretting his harsh tone. It was unlike him to let his emotions rule his words. Besides, the beginning of a plan for dealing with what remained of the lichdrow was taking shape in his mind.