"No!" Piri blurted. But at the same time, his fingers twitched. Do it.

Q'arlynd forced the ring onto Piri's finger, then shoved his way into the apprentice's mind. What he found there made him nod. Piri's thoughts weren't the only ones fluttering through the apprentice's brain. Q'arlynd detected a second presence in there, one that spoke in a high, tittering voice.

The quasit demon Piri had bonded with hadn't been content to remain inside the skin the apprentice now wore. It was also whispering around inside Piri's skull. Piri was either listening to it-or being controlled by it. Thanks to the ring, Q'arlynd could read its thoughts.

The quasit had goaded Piri into seducing Alexa, the only female among Q'arlynd's five apprentices. The demon had also ensured that Eldrinn, her consort, learned of the tryst. Despite his anger, Eldrinn wasn't stupid enough to have challenged Piri; it had been the other way around. In the end, Eldrinn had been forced to accept the challenge. To have done anything else would have meant forever being subservient to the other apprentice.

The demon's motivation in all this was simple-and simple-minded. Power shared between four apprentices was better than power shared between five. It had hoped to eliminate Q'arlynd's apprentices, one by one, and thus claw its way to the top.

Even now, Piri was struggling against the demon's influence-and failing. He'd rallied enough to agree to wear the ring, but was suffering for it now, as the quasit flayed his mind from within.

And why not? The quasit had nothing to lose. Not now. Q'arlynd knew, by reading its thoughts, which wand Eldrinn had selected for the duel. A wand of banishment, created by a moon elf cleric. A wand capable of sending the quasit back to the Abyss.

Eldrinn had been clever. Flensed of the demon skin, Piri would suffer greatly. Perhaps even die. But there was healing magic that would enable him to live-the magic within the vial Eldrinn had carried. Eldrinn had gambled that he'd be quick enough, and lucky enough, to preserve Piri's life after killing his real foe in the duel: the demon.

From the floor, the apprentice glared up at Q'arlynd with demon red eyes. His lip twitched in a snarl. "I'll have my revenge," the quasit said aloud, forcing Piri's voice into a high, brittle twang.

"I don't think so," Q'arlynd said. He took a deep breath. He didn't want to do this, but he had to. Even if it killed Piri.

Q'arlynd retreated from Piri's mind and activated the wand.

Piri screamed-his own voice, this time-as the demon skin wrenched itself from his body. Blood seeped from Piri's body as fat, muscles, and ligaments were suddenly exposed. Q'arlynd leaned forward to teleport Piri to the apothecary, but before he could touch him the apprentice's body disappeared. Q'arlynd's fingers brushed blood-soaked carpet instead of weeping flesh.

Q'arlynd started. Had the quasit yanked Piri into the Abyss after it?

He attempted to scry his apprentice, but when he tried to call a vision through the ring, none came. Where was Piri? Even if the apprentice were dead, Q'arlynd should have been able to scry him-unless the ring had been removed from Piri's finger.

Q'arlynd closed his eyes and sent his awareness into the lorestone. Ancestors, he asked. Is there any other way I might find him? A chorus of voices answered from within the kiira. None held out any hope.

Perhaps he could ask Master Seldszar to attempt a scrying. But then he discarded the notion. Even if he teleported to the Conclave's chamber this instant and somehow managed to convey what he needed without mentioning the duel and raising Seldszar's ire, it would probably already be too late.

Piri would, most likely, already be dead.

Q'arlynd stared at the blood-soaked carpet a moment longer, then sighed. There had been no way to predict what had just happened, he told himself. He'd done everything he could to save his apprentice. The guilt he felt was a sign of weakness.

Something a master of a College couldn't afford.

Not weakness, a female voice whispered from the lorestone. Compassion. Q'arlynd gave a mental shove, forcing his ancestor away. Sometimes the lorestone felt a little too close for comfort. Especially after what he'd just seen in Piri's mind.

He walked to the cabinet, opened a drawer, and placed Eldrinn's wand inside it. As he closed the drawer, a voice whispered into his ear. "Congratulations, Master Q'arlynd. The College of Ancient Arcana is officially recognized."

It was Seldszar, communicating by magic. The diviner's voice sounded clearly in the room. He was no doubt scrying on Q'arlynd and casting the spell through a font. This, despite the study's magical protections. It had to be a deliberate intrusion, designed to remind Q'arlynd who the more powerful mage was.

"My thanks," Q'arlynd answered. Steeling himself, he prepared to tell Seldszar about the duel. "Your son-"

"Yes. The duel," the voice answered. "I just learned of it. I'll take my pound of flesh from you later, for permitting Eldrinn to indulge in such foolishness. But just now, there's work to be done. Urlryn demands a solution to the problem of the Faerzress." He paused. "As do I."

Q'arlynd bowed. "You'll have your solution," he promised. It was the truth-or at least, true enough to have passed any other divination Seldszar might have just cast. The memories of Q'arlynd's ancestors, stored all these centuries within the kiira, did indeed hold the key to severing the bond that high magic had wrought between the drow and Faerzress. His ancestors not only knew what spells had been cast, but how to undo them.

The only thing they didn't know was precisely where those spells had to be cast, in order for the bond to be undone. Nor had Seldszar's divinations been able to solve the problem. But with luck-and the aid of a shipment that was on its way to Q'arlynd, even now, from distant Silverymoon-they would uncover that missing puzzle piece.

Q'arlynd hoped he was right. If he failed to deliver, Seldszar wasn't going to be happy with him.

Cavatina gaped at the strange landscape the portal had transported her to. It was as if she'd stepped into the heart of a huge mound of rubble. All around her, jagged pieces of gray stone crowded close on every side-except that the "stone" was blurred and indistinct, and had no substance. When she swept her sword in front of her, the blade passed right through the stones, and when she took a step forward she slid through the rubble like a ghost.

Was she a ghost? She didn't think so. Whatever this place was, it didn't look a thing like the Fugue Plane. Nor could she hear Eilistraee's welcoming song.

A curtain of bright silver shimmered behind her. It was about the size of a door and folded in a V that corresponded to the corner of the room she'd just stepped from. She touched it, and felt a crackling energy that slowed her fingers until it felt as if they were pressing on solid stone. The same thing occurred when she reached around the edge of the curtain and touched it from the other side. It appeared the portal only worked in one direction: from the Promenade to… here.

She glanced at her feet, and saw that she "stood" inside a chunk of stone. She felt a flat surface under the soles of her hoots-one that remained constant even when she lifted a foot and placed it on the edge of a rock. She couldn't feel the sharp edge of the stone, but she could step up "onto" it. And though she sensed which way "down" was, she couldn't feel it. When she leaned forward, it felt as if she still stood upright. Leaning backward produced the same result. Before she could stop herself, she was perpendicular to the silver curtain, which now hung above her head. Even so, she still felt a flat, solid surface beneath her feet. Dizzy and disoriented, she scrambled "upright" again.