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ation with a stammer。
Quenthel thanked the goddess that her own education in Arach…Tinilith had taught her to transcend disfort。 She forced out the words in the proper manner； and a black blade； like a greatsword without a guard； hilt； or tang； shimmered into existence in front of her。
She smiled。 The floating weapon was a devastating magic known only to the priestesses of Lolth。 Quenthel had never seen any creature resist it。 Though the stone floor was still chilly against the sole of her bare foot； the ghastly cold had passed； and she stood her ground； the blade interposed between her and her pursuer。
〃Do you know what this is？〃 she asked it。 〃It can kill you。 It can kill anything。〃
Certain the demon could hear her thoughts； she sent it the words； Surnotrender and tell me who sent you； or I'll slice you to pieces。
Emitting a sweet scent she'd never encountered before； looking like a giant frog crudely chiseled from mica with rows of wicked fangs in its sparkling jaws； the chaos demon waddled forward。
Fine； the Baenre thought； be stupid。
Controlling the black blade with her thoughts； she bade it attack。 It hacked a long gash in the top of the frog head and knocked the demon down on its belly。 The edges of the wound burned with scarlet fire。
The intruder turned inky black while flowing into a shape that renotsembled two dozen hands growing on long； leafy stalks。 The stems stretchnoting and twisting； the creature grabbed for the sword。
Quenthel let the hands seize hold of it； and as she'd expected； the magnotically keen double edge cut them to pieces； which dropped away onto the floor。 The demon gave a particularly loud cry； which sounded in part like the rhythmic clanging of a hammer beating metal in a forge。 Wincing at the noise； the priestess didn't know if the extreme volume equated to a scream of pain； but she hoped so。
The demon turned into a miniature green tower shaped according to the uncouth architectural notions of some inferior race。 A force surroundnoting it tugged at the sword as if the keep were a magnet and the conjured weapon； forged of steel。 Quenthel found it easy to pensate for the pull。 She slashed away chunks of masonry。
The tower opened lengthwise like a sarcophagus。 It lurched forward； swallowed the sword； and closed up again。
The entity had caught Quenthel by surprise； but she didn't see why it should matter。 It might even be more effective to cut and stab her foe from the inside。 She used the blade to thrust； felt the point bite； and her psionic link with the weapon snapped。
Startled； she nonetheless reflexively reached for another scroll。 The demon spread out into a low； squirming red and yellow mass。 A hole dinotlated in the midst of it； and it spat the sword out。 The weapon retained its shape but rippled with shifting colors just as the intruder did； and Quennotthel still couldn't feel it with her mind。
She backed away； the blade followed； and； rattling and growling； the demon brought up the rear。 The sword swept back and forth； up and down； while she ducked and dodged。 So far； she was evading it； but it hampered and hurt her simply by being near。 Her mail turned to moss and
crumbled away。 Her flesh throbbed with sudden pains as the demon's power sought to transform it。 One leg turned numb and immobile for a second； and she nearly fell。 Itchy scales grew on her skin then faded away。 Her eyes ached； the world blurred to black； white； and gray； and the colors exploded back into view。 Her identity itself was in flux。 For one instant； she thought the thoughts and felt the soft； alien emotions of an arthritic human seamstress dwel