Resurrection

In only a few moments, his skin was itching all over. He resisted the urge to scratch only with difficulty. After a few more moments, dead flesh started to fall from his body and new, healthy skin grew in its place.

"Archmage?" asked Nauzhror.

"A few more moments," Gromph answered through clenched teeth.

He watched, wincing with pain, as clumps of blistered skin fell from his body and traced his silhouette on the ground. Gromph imagined himself as one of Lolth's spiders, molting its old form and pulling a larger, stronger body from the dead shell. The battle with the lichdrow had taxed him, but ultimately it had not beaten him.

Of course, he reminded himself, the battle was not quite over.

When he felt ready, when most of his dead skin had sloughed away into a grotesque pile on the bazaar's floor, he extended his still-tender hand to Nauzhror.

"Here, help me rise."

Nauzhror took Gromph's hand in his own and pulled him to his feet.

Gromph held still for a moment, gathering himself, testing his regenerated leg, controlling the last vestiges of the pain.

Nauzhror hovered near him, as attentive as a midwife but not touching him.

"I'm quite capable of remaining on my feet," Gromph said but was not sure that he was.

"Of course, Archmage," Nauzhror answered but stayed close.

Gromph took a deep breath and let his shaking legs grow steady. Through his stolen Dyrr eyes, he surveyed the wreckage around him, surveyed the whole of the city.

Except for the smoking ruin of the bazaar, the center of the city remained unaffected by the siege. The great spire of Narbondel still glowed, tolling another day in the life of

Menzoberranzan the Mighty. Gromph could not remember if he had lit it or if another had.

He cocked his head and asked Nauzhror, "Did I light Narbondel this cycle?

"Archmage?" Nauzhror asked.

"Never mind," Gromph said.

Only the fact of Menzoberranzan's empty thoroughfares testified to the fact that the city was embattled. The ordinarily thronged streets were as still as a tomb. The Menzoberranyr had confined most of the fighting to the tunnels of the Dark Dominion, the Donigarten, and Tier

Breche. The city's center remained untouched by any battle except that between Gromph and the lichdrow.

But that battle had nearly leveled the bazaar.

Gromph turned and looked across the cavern to the great stairway that led to Tier Breche.

There on that high rise stood the spine of Menzoberranzan's power, the triad of institutions that had kept it strong and vital for millennia: Arach-Tinilith, Sorcere, and Melee-Magthere.

Flashes, explosions, and smoke illuminated the schools in silhouette. The siege of the duergar from the north continued unabated. Gromph knew that each of the schools was scarred and burned by stonefire bombs, but he knew too that each stood.

And soon, the duergar would find the spells of Lolth's priestesses bolstering the defenses, strengthening the counterattacks, and rejuvenating the fallen.

"The duergar are stubborn," said Nauzhror, following his gaze.

"More likely, they are ignorant of Lolth's return," Gromph replied. "But ignorant or stubborn,

they soon will be dead."

In Gromph's mind, the battle for the city was already won. The siege of Menzoberranzan soon would end. He allowed himself a moment's satisfaction. He had done the part allotted him, and his city would live.

"Agreed," Nauzhror said. "It is only a matter of time, now."

Gromph turned and looked to the other side of the cavern, where rose the high plateau of

Qu'ellarz'orl. If Sorcere, Arach-Tinilith, and Melee-Magthere were Menzoberranzan's spine, the great Houses of Qu'ellarz'orl were the city's heart.

House after House lined the plateau, with House Baenre dominating by far in both size and power. Squatting in House Baenre's shadow along the rise, barely visible from such a distance,

were the fortresses of the city's other great houses-Mizzrym, Xorlarrin, Faen Tlabbar, even

Agrach Dyrr.

Gromph's eyes narrowed when they fell upon the stalactite wall of the traitor House.

Occasional flashes of power and explosions of magical energy lit the Dyrr fortress. The siege by the Xorlarrin mages continued. Gromph imagined that it would for some time. With Yasraena and her underpriestesses once more wielding Lolth's power, the siege could take a long while.

"The Xorlarrin are also stubborn," Gromph observed.

"And greedy," Nauzhror said. "With House Agrach Dyrr defeated and removed from the

Ruling Council. . " He trailed off.

Gromph nodded. When Agrach Dyrr fell, no doubt House Xorlarrin hoped to take its place on the Council. Nauzhror observed, "The fall of House Dyrr too is only a matter of time."

Gromph nodded again and said, "But I cannot wait."