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with cool disinterest as it munched on a slice of rothe cheese.
    The sight of the rat somehow reminded the archmage that he hadn’t heard from Pharaun in a while. The arrogant popinjay had reported that Ched Nasad was in a state of chaos. Perhaps it was time to check in on him.
    Gromph stepped through an archway into an open shaft and levitated up to the room that served as his scrying chamber. Of necessity it was somewhat less well warded than other portions of his demesnes, since he required a certain amount of magical transparency in order to cast his mind out into the wide world around his palace. He reached the chamber and sat cross-legged in front of a low table on which rested a great crystal orb.
    With a pass of his aged hands, he muttered the device’s activating words and commanded, “Show me Pharaun Mizzrym, the impudent whelp who thinks he can replace me someday.”
    The last was not strictly necessary, but Gromph found it helpful to give voice to his frustrations before attempting to scry.
    The orb grew gray and milky, swirling with fog, then it exploded with unheralded radiance. Gromph swore and averted his eyes. For a moment he believed that Pharaun had devised some new spell to discourage enemies from spying on him, but the Archmage soon recognized the peculiar quality of the brilliance.
    Daylight.
    Wondering what the Master of Sorcere could possibly be doing on the surface, Gromph shaded his eyes and peered again, looking closer. He saw Pharaun, sitting in the shadow of a crumbling wall as he studied his spellbooks. None of the other dark elves who had accompanied the wizard were in sight, though Gromph could see a nearby archway leading out into a hatefully brilliant courtyard beyond.
    The tiny image of Pharaun looked up and frowned. The wizard had sensed Gromph’s spying, as any skilled wielder of magic was likely to do. Pharaun made a few silent passes with his hands, and the picture faded. Pharaun had cast a spell to block the scrying, though chances were good he had no idea who might be watching him.
    “So you think you will elude me so easily?” Gromph said, staring at the grayness.
    He steepled his fingers before him and cast a spell of his own, a mental sending to dispatch a message straight to the errant wizard.
    Where are you? What transpired in Ched Nasad? What do you intend to do next?
    He composed himself to receive Pharaun’s reply—the spell of sending conveyed the recipient’s response within a few minutes. The moments crept by, as Gromph gazed out the high, narrow windows of his scrying chamber, awaiting the younger wizard’s response.
    He felt the feathery touch of Pharaun’s words appearing in his mind: Anauroch. Ched Nasad was destroyed by rebellion and stonefire. Lolth’s silence did extend there. We now seek a priest of Vhaeraun in hope of answers.
    The contact faded after those twenty-five words. That particular spell didn’t permit lengthy conversations, but Pharaun had answered Gromph’s questions with uncharacteristic efficiency.
    “Ched Nasad destroyed?” breathed Gromph.
    That merited immediate investigation. He turned again to his crystal orb and commanded it to show him the City of Shimmering Webs. It took a moment for the mist to clear, and reveal to the Archmage a complete calamity.
    Where Ched Nasad had stood, there was nothing but remnant strands of calcified webbing, dripping slowly into a black abyss like molten glass from a glazier’s pipe. Of the city’s sinister palaces and wall-climbing castles, virtually nothing remained.
    “Lolth protect us,” murmured Gromph, sickened at the sight.
    He had no particular love for the City of Shimmering Webs, but whatever misfortune had befallen Ched Nasad might visit Menzoberranzan in time. Ched Nasad had been a city nearly as large and as powerful as Menzoberranzan itself, but Gromph could see with his own eyes the completeness of its ruin. If one building in twenty of the city remained, he would have been