war of the spider queen 1 dissolution

ide；　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　captain…of…the…guard　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　lisnottened　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　spotnotted　Umrae。　Her　tattered　cloak　flapping　between　her　wings；　the　transnotformed　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　follow…up　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　mid…flight；　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　innothumanly　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。　Leernoting；　Umrae　moved　sideways　right　along　with　her　in　a　way　that　demonnotstrated　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　drawnoting　of　the　knife。　The　piwafwi　was　just　a　sad　little　mass　of　tatters；　and　she