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.He deftly brought Bedlam's tip to rest on her throat, eliciting a moan of pain from the fiendish dryad.Though forged in magic long ago by a mad wizard, Bedlam had been blessed by the hand of a god who'd taken pity upon the wizard.No mark or symbol identified the divine benefactor, but the holy touch was unmistakable, steaming as it burned against the dryad's neck.Myrrium and Oerryn froze, squinting in the light.Oerryn moaned softly, the sound of her magic worming into Quin's mind and causing him to press Bedlam harder into Aellspath's neck.Frantically, the defeated dryad screamed to cease her sister's dangerous meddling."Be silent, you fool!"The moaning stopped and Quin breathed easier, staring into the dryad's green orbs."Good girl," Quin said, adjusting his stance to deal with the stand-off more comfortably."If you kill me, they will kill you, sweetblood!" Aellspath hissed."Possibly, but their victory cries will ring hollow in your dead ears," he jested back.Aellspath considered this, apparently not as confident in her sisters as she boasted."What do you want?""The Tower of Jhareat," he answered."Where is it?""You seek the red sorceress and her priests? Certainly no sweetblood is a minion of that one? Tell her we kept our bargain.No one would suspect an aasimar to serve such an evil!""I serve only myself.This red sorceress will greet me with as much warmth as you three have."Aellspath pointed an overlong finger in the direction of the ruined tower."That way, sweetblood, and good riddance to you and the witch." Then she added, after a moment's thought, "Beware the priests that ring the tower and their pets in the field of stone."Quinsareth relaxed Bedlam's pressure on her throat but kept the blade close, curious about the dryad's volunteered advice."Helpful now, are we?""We share an enemy in the blood-witch, aasimar, that is all.This forest is ours to rule, not hers!"Quinsareth was quiet for a moment, turning the gleaming stone end over end in his palm as he thought.Looking over his shoulder in the direction the dryad had indicated, he saw nothing but thick tangles of trees, bloodthorns, and razorvines.He considered the obstacles he'd face once he reached the ruins.He turned back to Aellspath, who writhed beneath Bedlam's touch.He withdrew Bedlam from the dryad's throat, keeping it a hand's breadth away but sparing her the pain of its blessed blade."Perhaps we might help one another," he offered mysteriously.The game piece he imagined tumbled through his thoughts, bearing the symbol of the Bargain.The dryad, relieved by the absence of the sword, narrowed her emerald eyes and met his white gaze."What do you propose, sweetblood?"* * * * *A gleaming black spider crawled cautiously across the window sill, pausing to inspect the pale obstacle of Morgynn's still hand.It reached out tentatively with its forelegs, tapping her skin lightly, testing the surface before continuing its slow progression.A short jump brought it to land on the knuckle of her index finger.Several black eyes glittered as it inspected this new terrain, searching for food.She did not notice the intrusion, lost in thought, miles away from the tower she stood in and the battle she awaited that danced in the scrying bowl.The world in the bowl swirled and rippled, still displaying her last viewing despite her lack of concentration.Goorgian, who'd crafted the scrying bowl, was a mysterious figure in Nar's past, thanks in large part to such magic.Never leaving his fortress, he'd been able to send his magic across great distances.He preferred to watch the world pass him by, even up to that moment when the armies of Raumathar had come marching across the horizon.The spider crawled cautiously, feeling the surface of her skin grow warm as an unseen current flowed beneath its feet.Her pulse quickened and still she did not move, but the spider grew agitated as its new perch twitched.Feeling threatened, its fangs glistened with venom and its rose on its hind legs in a defensive posture, turning in tight circles.Slowly the spider's world calmed, the soft ground it stood upon grew still and cooled."Peskhas," Morgynn whispered, and the spider's body stiffened and instantly turned to ash.With a quick puff of breath, it crumbled and blew away, joining the dust on the floor.She turned and found Khaemil still guarding the doorway, though his eyes were closed and his lips whispered silent prayers.She did not begrudge his loyalty to Gargauth, but it annoyed her nonetheless.She was not accustomed to placing her faith in the gods or anything else except herself and the magic.Her servants' worship and granted powers were tools to her, nothing more.Walking back to the reddened waters of the wooden bowl, she gazed into the black mirror at the bottom."Ravahlas su geska," she muttered, and watched the liquid's surface boil and waver, casting shadows upon the mirror below.It pulsed in tune to her heartbeat, sensing her will and forming images to satisfy what she desired
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