"We can begin."

T'lar nodded. She slipped the spike-spider into her belt pouch and wiped her bloody palms against the thighs of her skin-tight tunic. "Summon him."

The high priestess flicked the iron hoop, setting it spinning. Then she picked up a candle. She held it a moment near her face and invoked Lolth's name. As she did so, the flickering light illuminated her elaborately coiffed hair, obsidian blood-drop earrings, and silver crown. Only a short time ago, that crown had graced the head of Laele Zauviir, but the Spider Queen's temple in Sshamath had a new high priestess, now. Streea'Valsharess Zolond was much stronger than Zauviir had been-ready to grasp power in her own two hands, instead of licking up the crumbs the Conclave offered.

Streea'Valsharess Zolond touched the candle to the web inside the hoop. The strands of spider silk ignited. Sustained by magic, they continued to burn. "Lords of the Abyss, hear my command," she intoned. "In Lolth's name, send forth the demon Glizn."

A puff of yellow smoke erupted out of the center of the spinning hoop, filling the chamber with an acrid stench. Smoke drifted toward the spider carvings adorning the ceiling. A stationary figure appeared within the hoop, held by the burning web while the hoop spun around it: a tiny demon, barely twice the length of T'lar's hand, with batlike wings. It looked like a quasit, except that its skin was black and dry, instead of oily green. Instead of the usual horns, it had stiff white tufts of hair growing from its scalp. The demon's red eyes were too large for its face, and their expression was one T'lar was used to seeing on the faces of her targets. Fear. Deep inside those eyes, someone screamed.

The high priestess laughed. "What lovely irony! Whatever happened, quasit, to flip things inside out?"

T'lar glanced sideways at the high priestess.

Streea'Valsharess Zolond gestured at the demon, and chuckled. "Until recently, one of Q'arlynd Melarn's apprentices wore this demon."

"And now the quasit wears him?"

"So it would seem." She chuckled. "I'd been wondering why we hadn't heard from Glizn. I assumed it was because 'Piri' had been found out by his master, and slunk away."

The demon tugged, but failed to free its wings from the burning web. It shifted into centipede form, then into a squat toad, but still wasn't able to escape. At last it let out a thin squeak. "Why have you summoned me?"

"Where is Q'arlynd Melarn?" the high priestess said.

"I don't know!" the quasit squeaked. Fear oozed from it like a bad smell. "I haven't seen him since my lord called me back to the Abyss. So you might as well unbind me, and send me back, since I can't help you to-"

The demon's voice suddenly deepened. Words jerked from the tiny mouth. "I… can… find…"

The quasit snapped its jaw shut, biting its own tongue.

The high priestess studied the bound demon, her head cocked to one side. "Piri? Was that you who answered just now?"

The demon's face contorted from one emotion to the next: fear, anger, determination. A hiss escaped its lips. It might have been a yes.

"How can you find him?" T'lar demanded. "Tell me."

The demon's jaws creaked open. Shut. Open again. "Scry-" the deeper voice said. Then the mouth snapped shut. One hand jerked. A finger twitched.

The high priestess pointed at a tiny copper band on the quasit's finger. "How will you scry him? With that ring?"

The quasit's head jerked sharply: a nod.

The high priestess reached for it.

"No! Only… I… can…"

The high priestess scoffed. Her fingers closed around the ring.

T'lar caught her arm. "Leave it."

The high priestess glared at her.

T'lar pointed out the obvious. "If it were possible for either of us to use the ring, the apprentice wouldn't have told us about it." She stepped closer and pinched the demon's tiny chin. The quasit tried to bite her, but she held it fast. "Stop that!" she ordered. "Let Piri speak."

The demon winced.

T'lar curled her lip. Quasits were such pitiful excuses for demons. She drew her dagger-the one with the spider pommel that she'd taken as a trophy of Nafay's kill-and held it where the demon could see it. "What would you like in return for telling us, Piri? Release?"

Tears welled in the overlarge red eyes.

"Then fight the demon. Scry your master. Tell me where he is. If I believe what you tell me, I'll skin you free and send your soul to Lolth."

The demon's expression suddenly changed. The quasit spoke in its own shrill-pitched voice. "Oh no!" it squeaked. "That will hurt!"

The priestess laughed. "Only for a moment, demon. And think on this: if T'lar uses that pretty little dagger of hers properly, being parted from your skin will only temporarily kill you. As long as you die here, you'll re-manifest in the Abyss." She gestured at his body. "Free of that annoying wizard, I might add."

The quasit met the high priestess's eyes briefly, then let out a heavy, sulfurous sigh. "Fine," it said petulantly. "I'll let him do it." Its eyes slid sideways to T'lar. "But she has to swear by the Spider Queen, that she'll send me back clean. No skin."

T'lar smiled. "I swear it, by Lolth's dark webs."

The demon nodded. It tightened its ring hand into a fist, closed its eyes, and puckered its forehead into a frown of concentration.

The two drow waited. The silence stretched-long enough for the spider on the high priestess's shoulders to scuttle to the ground and spin a trap-web in one corner of the room. At last the quasit's eyes fluttered open. A high-pitched, tittering laugh burst from its lips.

"He saw him, he saw him, he saw him!" the quasit squeaked. "He was talking to a svirfneblin."

T'lar leaned closer. "Where was he?"

The quasit giggled. "Don't know."

Anger hissed from T'lar's lips.

"But he heard where he's going! The 'Fountains of Memory' he said."

T'lar glanced at the high priestess. Streea'Valsharess Zolond shrugged. It seemed she hadn't heard of the place either.

The quasit's head twisted so it could see T'lar. "You have what you wanted. Skin the wizard off me. Send me back to the Abyss."

"Not yet."

"But you swore-"

"Not until Q'arlynd Melarn is dead. Until then, you're staying right where you are."

"Noooo!" the quasit howled.

The hoop had almost slowed to a stop. T'lar reached out and gave it a nudge that sent it spinning again. "Yes."

Halisstra strode through the jungle, following the priestess. She'd slain the first priestess who had disturbed the penance ritual-the one who'd come bleating about the strange song the night twist tree was singing. The second priestess had been smarter. She'd taken the time to decipher the song, and reported it to her superior, rather than interrupting Halisstra. The superior, in turn, had waited until the ritual was over. Her eyes had widened in startled alarm when Halisstra sprang off the throne and caught her by the throat.

"Wendonai?" Halisstra shouted. "Here?"

Unfortunately, the priestess couldn't answer. Halisstra had crushed her throat. The other faithful had balked at that, but a soothing song had drawn them back into Halisstra's web, once more eager and grateful to serve her.

The priestess who had deciphered the song pointed ahead through the jungle at a black, leafless tree growing out of the remains of a tumbled building. A mournful sound poured out of it, the sound of weeping and pleading. The sound of weakness.

"Closer," Halisstra ordered.

The priestess didn't hesitate. Despite the danger the tree's song posed, she strode forward. After three steps, she crumpled to her knees, screaming. A moment later, the night twist's magical attack washed over Halisstra. A phantasm loomed in her mind: the image of Lolth in hybrid form, a spider with Danifae's face. You will never escape me, Lolth leered. You are not a demigod, but a mortal-and you are mine. The illusionary Lolth loomed over Halisstra, her bloated abdomen pulsing. Web oozed from her spinnerets. I will bind and break you, just as I did before. Your weakness will betray y-