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Pharaun wished the guards could have waited just five more minutes； but alas； he would have to go to work before the barber finished with him。 A tragedy； but it couldn't be helped。
A moment later the patrol marched by； casting stern glances hither and yon； their tread silent thanks to their enchanted boots。 In at least nominal mand was a priestess of ArachTinilith armed with a polished wooden wand。 Assisting her were a teacher from MeleeMagthere and Gelroos Zaphresz； one of Pharaun's junior colleagues in Sorcere。 It was unfortunate。 Possessed of a store of jokes and ical ditties； Gelroos was congenial pany。 At least if Pharaun murdered the other mage today； he wouldn't have to worry about Gelroos trying to assassinate him tomorrow。
In addition to its officers； the patrol consisted of a number of warriorsintraining； boys whom Ryld had almost certainly instructed at one time or another。 Pharaun wasn't particularly worried about them。 His fellow teachers were the real threat。
The Master of Sorcere waited until the guards had marched past then； surprising the barber； he tossed aside the hairsprinkled cloth covering his chest； stood up； and handed the craftsman a gold coin； a princely overpayment for his services。 He touched a finger to his lips in wordless explanation of what he actually wanted to buy。 He picked up his piwafwi； whose elegance he'd obscured with a minor illusion； swirled it around his shoulders； walked to the doorway of the stall； and peeked out。
The patrol had tramped about twenty yards down the lane。 Any farther and they'd turn a corner； so Pharaun had attained as much separation from the enemy as he was going to get。 He draped a fold of silk across the lower half of his face； then stepped out into the open； brandished a glass marble and a pinch of rust； and recited an incantation。 His halfbarbered hair stood on end； and the air around him smelled of ozone。 A crackling bluewhite spark appeared in the air before him； then shot down the aisle。
When it reached the patrol； the flickering point of radiance exploded； shooting flares of lightning in all directions。 Many of the callow young soldiers danced； burned； and fell； as they possessed neither the spiritual strength nor the protective talismans that might have minimized their injuries and kept them on their feet。 Unfortunately； the sizzling； jumping arcs of power struck a handful of vendors and shoppers as well。 Pharaun hadn't particularly wanted to harm nonbatants； but the aisle was simply too cramped。
The rest of the patrol began to pivot。 The captain from MeleeMagthere was smoking； blackened； and blistered； but if he was anything like Ryld； his burns weren't likely to slow him down。 Gelroos and the priestess looked as if the lightning hadn't even touched them。 The female was spinning around a hair faster than the other two； raising her baton。 Thanks to his silver ring； Pharaun could tell it was a spider wand； a weapon capable of entangling him in sticky webbing。
He had no intention of enduring that kind of humiliation。 He rattled off a string of magic words and thrust his arm out。 Five slivers of arcane force leaped from his fingertips； hurtled across the intervening space； and slammed into the cleric's torso。 She stumbled backward and collapsed。
A wiry male with deepset eyes； and a trace of a scholar's stoop； Gelroos peered up the street and called； 〃Master Mizzrym〃
〃So much for my ability to manufacture a nonmagical disguise；〃 Pharaun answered； grinning； 〃but then we do know one another fairly well。〃
〃You're allowed to try to kill another Master of Sorcere；〃 said Gelroos。 〃That's entirely proper。 But you overstepped when you struck down these youths。 It was pointless and sloppy； and their mothers won't appreciate the waste。 They'll reward me for taking you down。〃
〃Does it help if I explain that all I do； I do to deliver Menzoberranzan from twin calamities？〃 Pharaun asked。
Gelroos raised his hands； preparing to conjure； and the remaining warriors charged。
〃Ah。 I thought not。〃
He too began to cast。
Gelroos pleted his spell a moment before Pharaun finished his。 Crashing and crunching； the surface of the lane spat stone in the air。 It was like a geyser； save for the fact that the chunks of rock didn't fall back to earth。 Instead； they shifted around one another and fitted together； forming a towering； massive； and vaguely drowlike form； like a heroic statue abandoned when the sculptor had barely begun。 Its footsteps shaking the ground； the creature lurched up the corridor between the stalls。
Pharaun was mildly impressed。 It wasn't easy to summon and control an essential spirit of the earth—nor easy to fend one off； either—but the manifestation didn't shake his concentration。 He continued his recitation without a flub； meanwhile floating up into the air to avoid； if only momentarily； the swords of the onrushing warriors。
He spoke the final syllable of the conjuration。 A dagger made of ice flew from his hand。 Gelroos dodged it； but the conjured blade exploded； peppering its target with frozen shards。 One slashed open the mage's cheek and he stumbled； but Pharaun could tell he wasn't seriously hurt。
Below the Mizzrym； some of the warriors were readying their crossbows。 Others began to levitate。 By rushing him； they'd drawn even with the game merchant's tent； and Ryld burst from underneath it。 Half an hour earlier； he'd purchased a scimitar to use in this particular battle； but it was Splitter； rendered visible by his touch； that he currently clasped in his hands。 He must have decided that； since Gelroos had already called out Pharaun's name； it would be pointless to try to conceal his own identity。
The greatsword leaped back and forth； each stroke dropping a foe to the ground。 Bellowing for his minions to turn and face the new threat； Ryld's fellow instructor tried to shove his way toward him。
Stone； liquid as magma； flowed upward from the ground into the elemental's body。 Most of the rock served to grow the creature bigger and taller； but some of it accumulated in the palm of its hand； forming a spiky sphere that it no doubt intended to hurl at Pharaun。
The wizard snatched a tiny vial of water from one of his pockets。 Brandishing it； he chant