For now, two strove against one. Was there hope of gaining a second Theorpart? Could the balance be shifted in Graz'zt's favor then? Vuron was certain that both answers were no. "He is doomed by it now, and it is I who forged that doom," the pale demon whispered aloud.

"Pardon, my Lord? I didn't hear you."

"Nothing, Leda," Vuron said briskly. "I merely spoke thoughts aloud. . . . We sometimes place greater measures of independence upon ourselves than actually exist, you know. How greatly do we overestimate our own strength and meaning? Is it in the same magnitude? Greater by far, I think" Vuron gazed down at the perfect, sable-hued face of the elf. Its color was so like that of his king's. He had sought only to serve Graz'zt for eternity.. ..

"Time is fleeting. Lord Vuron," Leda finally said, growing uncomfortable under the demon's glassy stare.

"Time? So too power, renown, and all glory within the cosmos," the albino said with a snarl. "That is of no matter at this moment. As I said, we must have interior lines so that we can defend successfully until the unnatural alliances formed against us break from their own disparate natures. Soon enough new allies will come to serve Graz'zt, and the interloping dogs from Hades and the other netherspheres will be chased back to their kennels." Vuron hoped that those words would remain foremost in her mind when Leda reported to the demon king. "Here is my written account of the battle, my assessment of the situation, and plans for what we must do. It is a primitive way to communicate, but the enemy can't eavesdrop on such."

Leda took the thick box of leather and metal, a container covered with runes and sealed fast with black wax bearing Vuron's mark "I will give it directly into the hands of our liege immediately. Lord General."

"Guard it with your life! Don't hesitate to utilize the Eye to protect it."

With a bow, then a formal salute, the dark elf withdrew. "It should not be necessary, Vuron," Leda said just before she departed. "I intend to take the fastest route to the palace, so there will be few likely to be encountered along the way. Before the smogs rise here again, Graz'zt will have your intelligence in his hands."

Vuron nodded, and she left with quick steps. Only after Leda was gone did he think to ask her about how she felt. The albino recalled that when he looked at Leda's face, she had seemed fresh, lovely. Her countenance should have been drawn and haggard. The strain of using the Eye should have left its mark thus. Did she possess some witchery that enabled the drow priestess to resist even so great a thing as the Eye of Deception? If so, then it was time for him to get rid of her. After all, Vuron had decided to create Leda in counter to Eclavdra, for that one's influence had been too strong and too much directed toward her own glorification. Leda's twin would have not hesitated to lessen Graz'zt in order to make herself greater. Now there was a possibility that her clone had even greater spiritual strength and inner power than Eclavdra had possessed. Should that be true, and should Leda decide to employ her energy in a way that Vuron didn't direct, then she might actually displace him. That was something the demonlord hadn't considered since Leda came into being; Leda as such, rather than what she had been prior, a mere duplicate of Eclavdra. The original dark elven high priestess wouldn't have hesitated to work any mischief in order to gain advantage. Was Leda far from that?

As soon as possible he would set matters right in that regard, Vuron vowed silently. First the withdrawal to a new defensive line, then the machinations to destroy Leda's influence . . . perhaps Leda.

Chapter 6

IT WAS AS BIRTH, only the passage was doubly painful now. Separation and self-reliance were immediately ahead. The whole of the cold and unforgiving experience of life was graven in steel. No escape. Certain end. Did an infant wall in premonition? Certainly it knew of its loss in some way, but never so starkly as this.

Inside the Soulless Sounding could be found all things and no things. The saddest, most melancholy of dreams — of all those loved and gone, loved and lost. Each parting was final. impossibly ended, yet seen and experienced again in such a way as to negate it while knowing that it remained. No matter — soon enough there would be no memory whatsoever ... or would that alone remain forever . . . ?

Gord and Gellor were alone, helpless, lost in a gloom that clouded the senses. There was no haven to be found, no escape in the dreadful night. The things that dwelled always therein were not so deprived. They moved and stalked, coming ever closer, hungering.

The portal was a hole dug into the frozen ground, a place just long and wide enough to contain a bier.

Seen from above, the depth seemed such that its contents were but four feet below. It was a coffin with a lid of pure crystal. Inside was a corpse upon which till manner of worms and foul things battened, but the ghastly visage of the thing smiled a terrible grin of welcome to the viewer.

Being in the passage was like falling forever, with the surety of a terrible impact of equal duration. The sickening weightlessness reached its absolute maximum, an ecstasy of terror from which there was no escape. Even as the free falling sent its delightful sensations and its nausea through the entire being, the prospect of crushing impact at the infinitely distant end was there, compacting, rupturing, breaking internally.

"What do demons perceive when in this place?"

"Think not on that," Gord advised his companion when Gellor uttered that question. The same thought had indeed come to the young champion's mind as he experienced the horrors of traversing the Soulless Sounding. "No matter what, only the greatest can survive the ordeal."

"Small wonder," the bard growled, shaking his grizzled head to clear the awful things filling his brain. "This journey is one I vow never to make again!"

Gord understood all too well. It seemed as if they had wandered in a delirium for ages. Between breaths, whole decades passed. Was that delusion? Who could say for certain in such a twisted continuum as this? Was there a reality here? Or was everything drawn only from the minds of those who were so foolish as to enter the Soulless Sounding? No matter. The visitors walked, crawled, ran, fell, crept flew.

In any manner they could, they moved, seeking the place they instinctively knew was that which would lead them to their goal.

Gord was reflecting thus when an apparition made him start and tremble. "This accursed place now seeks to steal the last of my sanity," he muttered loudly enough for his companion to overhear. "Would that she were really so near!"

"She?" the troubador asked, even though he knew that his friend had not meant for him to hear. Then he, too, saw. "I too see a drow clad in demon armor coming nigh. Beware that vision, Gord! The thing she bears has an aura of deepest malevolence."

"It is no drow bearing evil," Gord countered. "I have conjured up in my mind the dream of Leda — she who meant all to me, the one who gave her soul to prevent the incursion of all darkness." As he said those words, Gord's mind brought back scenes of the beautiful dark elf as they first met long ago on Oerth. He saw again the search for the Theorpart in the dusty wastes of the Ashen Desert, saw her save his life, then condemn herself to an eternity of misery by going with Vuron to the depths of demonium.

Gellor received those pictures from his friend, felt the emotions that wrapped them. "I am sorry, Gord, very sorry to intrude," the troubador said with a husky voice. "You fairly blast your thoughts out, and I have no choice but to share . . ."

"What matter? There is nothing left any more."

"But she is here!"