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low。 Instead； she took another stride； slapped the ambassador with a flick of her wing； and sent her reeling。
Faeryl's head rang； and the world blurred。 As she struggled to throw off the stunning effects of the blow； she thought fleetingly how unfair it was that Umrae； who had long ago forsaken bat training as a humiliating exercise in futility； was demolishing a female who still doggedly reported to her captainoftheguard for practice once a tenday。
After what seemed a long time； her head cleared。 She whirled； certain that Umrae was about to attack her from behind。 She wasn't。 In fact； the animate corpse was nowhere to be seen。
Plainly； Umrae had taken to the air。 Had she finally done the sensible thing and fled？ Faeryl couldn't believe it。 Umrae hated her。 The envoy didn't know why； but she'd seen it in the traitor's eyes。 Such being the case； Umrae wouldn't break off when she had every reason to believe she was winning and close to making the kill。 No drow would； which meant she was still hovering somewhere overhead； poised to swoop down and； she undoubtedly hoped； catch her mistress by surprise and smash her to the ground。
Her heart pounding； Faeryl peered upward and saw nothing。 She listened for the beat of the creature's wings but heard only the eternal muffled whisper of the city as a whole。 She wasn't entirely surprised。 The undead were famously stealthy when stalking their prey。
A black sliver momentarily cut the line of violet luminescence adorning a spire of the castle of House Vandree。 The obstruction had surely been the tip of one of Umrae's wings。
Faeryl stared for another moment； then jumped when she finally spotted Umrae。 Her tattered cloak flapping between her wings； the transformed secretary was already hurtling down like a raptor from the World Above diving to plunge its talons into a rodent。
Hoping Umrae hadn't seen her react to the sight of her； Faeryl kept turning and peering。 When she felt the disturbance in the air； or perhaps simply the urgent prompting of her instincts； she jumped aside； pivoted； and swung the war hammer in an overhand blow。
Under those circumstances； she had little chance of smashing the thing's heart； but she'd seen that Umrae could suffer pain。 Perhaps the initial blow would freeze the undead thing in place for an instant； affording Faeryl the opportunity for what she prayed would be the finishing stroke。
The ambassador had timed the move properly； and the weapon's basalt head smashed into Umrae's flank。 Deprived of her victim； unexpectedly battered； the ghoul slammed into the smooth stone surface of the street with a satisfying crash。 Scraps of flesh broke away from her raddled body； releasing a fresh puff of stench。
Faeryl marked her target； the place on Umrae's chest beneath which her heart ought to lie； and swung Mother's Kiss back for the followup attack。 The traitor rolled and scrambled to her knees。 Faeryl struck； and Umrae lashed out with a taloned hand。 The ghoul caught the war hammer in midflight； tore it out of the ambassador's grip； and sent it spinning to clack down on the ground ten feet away。
Faeryl felt a crazy impulse to turn and go after the thing； but she knew Umrae would rip her apart if she tried。 She back stepped instead。 The inhumanly gaunt spy leaped to her feet—she looked like a pile of sticks spontaneously assembling themselves into a crude facsimile of a person— and pursued。
While retreating； Faeryl started edging around in a looping course that might ultimately bring her to the spot where the hammer lay。 Leering； Umrae moved sideways right along with her in a way that demonstrated she knew exactly what her mistress had in mind and would never permit it。
Well； the aristocrat still had one weapon—pitifully inadequate to the situation though it was—a knife hidden in the belt that gathered her light； supple coat of mail at the waist。 The gold buckle was the hilt； and when she pulled on it； the stubby adamantine blade would slide free。 She started to reach for it； then hesitated。
Against Umrae's talons； long reach； and resistance to harm； the dagger really would be useless 。 。 。 unless Faeryl could get in close enough to use it； and unless she attacked by surprise。
But how in the name of the Demonweb was she to acplish that？ Umrae was rapidly closing the distance； snapping her wings every few steps to lengthen a stride； and for three unnerving backward paces； Faeryl's mind was blank。
Then she remembered the cloak； or rather； the remnants of it； still clutched in her offhand。 Perhaps she could employ it to conceal her drawing of the knife。 The piwafwi was just a sad little mass of tatters； and she was no juggler adept at sleightofhand； but curse it； if clumsy Umrae had palmed a potion vial without her mistress noticing until it was too late； surely the mistress could do as well。
Faeryl had been reflexively moving the cloak around the whole time； so it shouldn't look suspicious for her to cover her waist with it。 At the same time； she hooked the fingers of her weapon hand in the oval hollow at the center of the buckle and pulled。 She had never before had occasion to employ this last desperate means of defense； but in the sixteen years since an artisan had made it to her specifications； she had always kept the knife and scabbard oiled； and the blade easily slid free。
She studied Umrae。 As far as the envoy could tell； the imitation ghoul hadn't seen her bare the dagger； but she doubted she could keep it hidden for more than a second or two。 She had to manufacture a chance for herself quickly if she was to have one at all。
She pretended to stumble。 She hoped her unsteadiness looked genuine。 Umrae had touched her； after all； so it might seem credible that her strength was failing。
The ghoul took the bait。 She leaped forward and seized Faeryl by the forearms。 This time； her claws punched through the envoy's layer of mail and jabbed their tips into her flesh。 At once； a surge of nausea wracked Faeryl； then another。 Retching； she wasn't sure she could still use the knife in any sort of controlled manner。 Perhaps she'd just served herself up to her foe like a plate of mushrooms。
Umrae grinned at Faeryl's seeming—or genuine—helplessness。 The envoy felt the clerk's fingers tense； preparing to flense the meat from her bones； even as she pulled the noble closer and opened her jaws to bite down on her head。
Fighting the sickness and weakness； Faeryl tried to thrust her hand forward。 The effort strained her flesh against the ghoul's talons； tearing her wounds larger and bringing a burst of pain—but then her arm jerked free。 The blade rammed into Umrae's withered chest； slipping cleanly between two ribs and plunging in all the way up to Faeryl's knuckles。
Umrae convulsed and threw back her head for a silent scream。 The spasms jerked her hands and threatened to rip Faeryl apart even without the traitor's conscious intent。 Umrae froze； and toppled backward； carrying her assailant with her。
In contradiction of every tale Faeryl had ever heard； the shape shifter didn't revert to her original form when true death claimed her。 Still horribly sick； the envoy lay for some time in the ghoul's fetid embrace。 Eventually； however； she mustered the trembling stre