witch’s failure to protect her mortal shell and recognized the same mystic
illness from which she herself had only just recovered. For a fleeting moment
Ischade felt a sense of pity that one so powerful should be conquered by an
accumulation of minute errors. Then she set about weaving a gossamer web to
ground the globe’s radiant energy in her focal possessions as fast as
Roxane/Tasfalen could create it.
The faster the globe whirled, the stronger Ischade’s binding threads became,
until the whole house rattled and dust fell in flakes from the ancient
roofbeams-and still the Nisi witch sang her curses into the artifact. The
necromancer played out the last strand and stood up in the wash of blue light.
Tasfalen’s dead eye gave no indication of recognition; Rox-ane was too deeply
enmeshed in her spell-casting to spare the energy for simple words. A shriek of
rage emanated from the globe itself as the Nisi witch launched her attack-a
shriek that shattered abruptly as the power surged into Ischade’s handiwork and
made the web brilliantly visible. Curls of smoke twisted up from the weaker
foci, but the web held. Ischade began to laugh, savoring her counterpart’s
growing terror.
Roxane flailed helplessly with Tasfalen’s rigor-stricken arms, struggling to
free herself from the power gnawing at her soul.
“The wards!” Roxane’s disembodied voice howled above the globe’s whine. “No
wards! He comes for me!”
The Globe of Power spun faster, first swallowing the witch’s voice, then
swallowing her body within its cobalt sphere. Gouts of fire sprang up in the