Storm of the Dead

CHAPTER 5

Q'arlynd watched as the slaves manacled the chitine to the experimentation chamber's wall. Though the chitine wore the slave ring, it had a strong mind, highly resistant to enchantments. That might allow it to last a little longer than the other subjects, but strength of will made it difficult to handle; it kept shaking off Q'arlynd's mental control.

The chitine was thin and barely as tall as Q'arlynd's shoulder. In contrast, the gray-skinned grimlock slaves were taller than humans and powerfully muscled. Yet even they had a hard time forcing the chitine's fourth arm into a manacle. The chitine's oily skin made it difficult to grapple. Wrenching its arm free, it sank the hook in its palm into the shoulder of the larger grimlock, tearing a bloody gash. The grimlock yelped and slammed a fist into the chitine's face, knocking its head back against the wall. The chitine sagged at the knees and slowly shook its head, its multifaceted eyes unfocused.

Q'arlynd clenched his fist around his master ring. "No more of that!" he snapped at the grimlocks. "I need it awake and undamaged."

He forced the chitine to stand upright, and held its body still while the grimlocks completed their task. They were sightless creatures with only vestigial eyes. Though they couldn't see Q'arlynd standing with his arms folded, they could hear his impatient foot tap and smell his irritation. Q'arlynd knew this would be his last chance to experiment on the kiira before being sent away.

The chitine at last secure, the grimlocks turned and bowed to their master. Each cocked an oversized ear in his direction, awaiting his command. Blood dribbled down the injured one's arm and puddled on the floor.

"Go to the kitchen," Q'arlynd ordered. "Have the cook wash out that wound and bind it. Then eat; there's fresh meat for both of you."

The grimlocks broke into wide grins. They bobbed their heads and hurried from the room, heads tipping this way and that as they listened for the sounds of their footsteps echoing back off the walls.

Eldrinn sat in a corner of the room, watching, his spell-book lying open across his lap. Despite its ornately tooled leather cover and pages edged with gold, it held only a handful of minor spells. Eldrinn's clothes were equally decorative. He wore an embroidered purple piwafwi over a white shirt and trousers that helped make his brownish skin seem darker than it was. His waist-length hair was neatly combed straight back from his high forehead and was bound in a silver clip that rested against the small of his back.

He shook his head. "Wash and bind the wound? You're coddling those grimlocks. That wound will heal by itself."

Q'arlynd gestured at their captive. "Look at the chitine's hands; they're filthy. The wound could fester. No sense in wasting a good slave."

Eldrinn closed his spellbook and laid it on the table beside him, next to a wooden box. "There's plenty more where they came from."

"Slaves are expensive."

"So what? We can afford a dozen of them."

Q'arlynd sighed. The younger wizard had an intuitive grasp of magic that was well beyond his training and years, but what he knew about handling slaves wouldn't have filled a bunghole. Loyalty had to be built, one brick at a time. It couldn't be beaten into a slave. Whippings only produced fear and resentment-and a smoldering desire for revenge. Something Q'arlynd had learned early in life, as a boy in House Melarn.

Eldrinn, however, had grown up in Sshamath, the pampered and indulged son of the master of the city's College of Divination. The closest he'd ever come to anything resembling a matron mother's wrath was when he'd been teleported home by Q'arlynd a year and a half ago, mind-damaged and dragging behind him the powerful staff he'd "borrowed" from the master's private study.

Seldszar Elpragh had paid for the expensive spell that had cured his son, then raged at the boy for going off, with only one soldier accompanying him, to indulge in "pointless poking about" in the ruins of the High Moor. He'd cut off Eldrinn's stipend for a month-no real punishment. His son, he later admitted to Q'arlynd, was more valuable than any staff.

Q'arlynd had to agree, but for different reasons. Eldrinn not only had access to Master Seldszar's deep coin purse, but also a residence of his own that was perfect for secluded experimentation. And his thirst for arcane knowledge and the power that came with it equaled Q'arlynd's own. The boy acknowledged Q'arlynd as his superior in the Art and was keen to make good on the debt that he owed the older wizard for his rescue. He was almost pathetically grateful to Q'arlynd for being invited to participate in the experiments on the kiira Q'arlynd had "found" on the High Moor. Best of all, he had absolutely no recollection of ever having possessed the stone himself. All memories of his trip to the High Moor had been wiped from his mind, except for the odd muddled flash.

Which was precisely why Q'arlynd had encouraged the boy to participate in his experiments on the kiira, and why he kept Eldrinn by his side as much as possible. If Eldrinn suddenly remembered something about his expedition to the High Moor, Q'arlynd wanted to be the first to hear about it.

All he had to put up with in return were Eldrinn's incessant comments on how he should discipline the slaves.

Q'arlynd walked over to the chitine and grabbed the creature by the hair. It opened its eyes and strained at its manacles, hissing. Baring its teeth and clicking its curved mandibles, it attempted, futilely, to bite Q'arlynd's arm.

Q'arlynd examined the back of the creature's head. "No real damage done." He released the hair and stepped back.

"You should have whipped the grimlocks, just the same. Both of them."

Q'arlynd ignored the younger male's comment. He didn't want to get caught up in another lengthy debate. Too much rested on this experiment. "What about the others? Are they on their way?"

Eldrinn closed his eyes and toyed with the copper ring Q'arlynd had given him. Faerie fire danced across his closed eyelids as he used the ring to view the others from afar. "Piri's driftdisc is just passing the Web. Zarifar and Baltak are en route from the Quillspires; they should be right behind him."

"Good."

Eldrinn opened his eyes. "Could Alexa-?"

"No."

"But she's one of the most promising apprentices the College of Conjuration has. She created a sigil that-"

"We've been through this before," Q'arlynd said. "No." He knew why the boy wanted him to invite the female wizard to join their fledgling school: he was her consort. Which was exactly the reason Q'arlynd didn't want her. He didn't need her bedding any of the others, stirring up petty jealousies.

Eldrinn pouted but didn't protest further.

Q'arlynd tapped his foot impatiently. As they waited for the others, he performed an exploratory thrust into the mind of the chitine, ignoring the faerie fire that sparked from his temples as he did so. The chitine's mind was difficult to penetrate-and brutal to remain in, once he was inside.

Hate you, the creature raged back at him. Kill you, filthy drows. Hook open stomach, spill your feces. Kill-

Enough. Satisfied that he would be able to retain contact, Q'arlynd withdrew.

He stared at the creature, wondering why the wizards of Ched Nasad had ever bothered to create such a loathsome race. When Q'arlynd was a novice, chitines had been plentiful; the breeding pits of the Conservatory had been full of them. The masters used to set dozens free each year, to provide sport for the hunt. But now that Ched Nasad lay in ruins, chitines weren't being bred any more. And those that had escaped were hunting drow.

The chitine was a living reminder of Ched Nasad's former prowess at magic. As for Q'arlynd's former home, it had fallen during Lolth's Silence. Literally fallen to pieces, leaving only a rubble-choked cavern where a city of thirty thousand drow had once stood. The survivors were doing what they could to resurrect the city from the rubble, but even if they rebuilt everything from the rudest slave hovel to the grandest noble House, it would never be the same.

Q'arlynd's House-House Melarn-was gone for good.

The college he was creating would fill that void, but unless today's experiment succeeded, Q'arlynd's dream might never come to fruition.

The hiss of a driftdisc halting in the hallway announced Piri's arrival.

Piri entered the experimentation chamber with a quick sideways step, his back against the wall. His eyes darted around the room, as if searching for hidden threats. No matter how safe the venue, Piri always seemed overly cautious. How much of this was his own nature and how much was the result of the quasit demon he'd bonded with was hard to say.

The demon's skin had replaced Piri's own, giving his face and hands an oily, greenish tinge. The bonding made Piri quicker and tougher, and resistant to both fire and ice, but it gave his eyes-already too close together above a beakish nose-an unsettling glint. His hair, cut close, stood up in white tufts that would eventually fuse into spikes.

Piri claimed to have complete mastery over the demon he'd bonded with-quasits were among the lowliest of demonic creatures-but Q'arlynd wondered if the wizard wasn't already regretting the bonding. Piri had been all too quick to abandon the College of Mages for Q'arlynd's as-yet unproven school.

Perhaps Piri hadn't been welcome at his former college, despite his skill in piecing together arcane texts. Q'arlynd, however, recognized his worth. From imperfect copies of the original spell, Piri had cobbled together a Ritual of Bonding-and made it work. That was proof enough of his skill.

Piri nodded without speaking at Q'arlynd and Eldrinn: two quick jerks of his head. Sparkles of purple crackled at his temples. Q'arlynd felt the brush of the other mage's mind. To show he held no threats, he permitted Piri a quick glimpse of his surface thoughts.

Eldrinn stiffened and clenched the hand that wore the copper ring. He locked eyes with Piri, and faerie fire sparkled on both male's foreheads: dark purple from Piri's; blue-green from Eldrinn's.

"Satisfied?" Eldrinn asked.

Relaxing only slightly, Piri retreated to a spot at the back of the chamber and folded his arms.

A moment later, Zarifar and Baltak arrived.

Zarifar was tall and thin, with tightly kinked hair-a rarity among the drow. It surrounded his head in a white fuzz that he never combed; tufts of it stood out like bits of coiled wire. Perpetually dreamy and unfocused, he bumped into the doorjamb as he entered the room, and blinked as though he'd just noticed where he was. When greeted, he nodded and mumbled a vague hello.

Q'arlynd didn't need to dip into Zarifar's mind to know what it would be filled with: intricate geometric designs, expressed in complex mathematical formulae that made Q'arlynd feel as simpleminded as a goblin struggling with the grammatical complexities of High Drowic.

Zarifar was a brilliant geometer mage, no doubt about it. Yet he wandered through daily life like a child. He hadn't joined Q'arlynd's school on his own. He had to be led by the hand into it.

The wizard who had done that was as different from Zarifar as light from shadow. Baltak lived entirely for his body; the transmogrifist was continually sculpting it in an effort to attain the perfect form. He wore tight-fitting pants that hugged his muscular legs, and a shirt he left unbuttoned to show off the exquisitely honed muscles of his chest and abdomen. Currently his "hair" consisted of yellowish feathers, lying flat against his head and neck and sprouting from the points of his ears. His bare feet were wide and flat, with curved black claws on the toes that clicked against the stone floor as he walked-another hallmark of the owlbear that was currently his favorite creature to transform into.

Baltak strode into the room, his presence immediately filling it. He punched Piri lightly on the shoulder, ignored the withering glare he got in return, and flipped shut Eldrinn's spellbook. Fists on hips, he grinned at Q'arlynd with perfect white teeth. His deep voice boomed. "Well, looks like we're all here. Let's get this experiment rolling."

Q'arlynd pointed at a spot across the room from Eldrinn. "Stand over there, Baltak," he said. "You're blocking my view of the chitine."

"Whatever you say, Q'arlynd," Baltak answered with a half-chuckle. He snapped his fingers in front of Zarifar's nose, startling the geometer mage. "Come on, Zarifar. You heard him. Move!"

As the pair took their places, Eldrinn set his spellbook on the table beside him and rose from his seat. He closed the door and sealed it with a sprinkle of gold dust and a spoken word. The experimentation chamber had been magically screened to prevent scrying. Even so, Q'arlynd had taken additional precautions.

He gestured for Eldrinn to bring him the wooden box that lay on the table. With its crude decorations and sloppy construction, it looked like something an orc might have banged together. Yet only the correct combination of touches to its sides would open it. Inside it was the kiira, nested in a lining of ensorcelled chameleon skin. Any wizard scrying the box would perceive its contents to be a commonplace magical item that only the most unschooled novice would covet. Certainly unworthy of opening.

At Q'arlynd's touch, the puzzle box sprang open, revealing the kiira. He hid his smile at Eldrinn's slight intake of breath. The boy was always awed by the sight of the magical crystal, no matter how many times he saw it. Zarifar seemed oblivious to the magical treasure, but Baltak moved closer to stare down at the lorestone as if it were a delicious morsel waiting to be devoured. Piri kept his distance, eyeing the kiira with equal parts curiosity and caution.

Baltak reached for the kiira. Q'arlynd jerked the box aside. "Eldrinn will do it, this time."

Baltak's feathers lifted slightly from his scalp, but he otherwise hid his irritation well. "As you say," he rumbled.

Carefully, Eldrinn lifted the kiira from the box. Q'arlynd had never allowed him to touch the lorestone before; he'd been worried that it might trigger memories. But given their imminent departure, that was a risk Q'arlynd was willing to take. If the boy did remember something, it might even prove helpful.

He watched Eldrinn closely, but the boy's expression didn't change.

"Press it to the chitine's forehead," Q'arlynd instructed. "But not until my signal. I want to make certain I'm deep inside its mind before we begin."

Eldrinn nodded. He walked to the chitine and stood, the lorestone carefully cupped in his hands.

Q'arlynd raised his hand. "Link your minds with mine."

One by one, the other wizards activated their rings. Faerie fire sparked from their foreheads, the varied hues blending as they drifted through the room. Q'arlynd felt Baltak shoulder into his mind like a bear. A heartbeat later, Eldrinn stepped in. Piri lightly touched Q'arlynd's mind with his own, hesitated, then slid in partway. Zarifar drifted in last. His mind traced an imaginary pattern between the bodies of the five wizards, a complex spiral of overlapping ovals.

Q'arlynd closed his eyes and thrust his awareness deep into the chitine's mind. For several moments, the creature's rage held him at bay. Then he pushed past it. Viewed through its multifaceted eyes, Q'arlynd and the other wizards appeared as looming giants-a multitude of them.

Q'arlynd flicked his raised hand: the word now in silent speech.

Through the chitine's eyes, he saw Eldrinn reach forward. He saw-and felt-the kiira briefly touch the chitine's forehead, but then the lorestone fell away. Q'arlynd's eyes opened just in time for him to see the precious crystal clatter to the floor. Eldrinn scrambled to recover it, a horrified expression on his face. Q'arlynd felt Piri tense and heard Baltak's derisive snort and his mental sneer-fumblehands-overlaid by the chitine's cackle of wild laughter.

Q'arlynd choked the laughter off by mentally slamming the creature's jaw shut. That, at least, he could control.

Eldrinn rose, the kiira in his hands. "It's not broken," he said in a relieved voice. He glanced at the chitine. "It's the greasy skin. The kiira wouldn't stick to the chitine's…" Suddenly, his eyes grew as distant as Zarifar's. "Grease," he said slowly. "On its head." One hand drifted up to touch his own forehead.

Q'arlynd broke his mental connection with the other wizards. He knew that look: Eldrinn was struggling to remember the events that had transpired on the High Moor. Q'arlynd let a hand drift behind his back, where the preliminary motions of his spell wouldn't be seen by the others.

"What is it, Eldrinn?" he asked softly.

An intense frown creased Eldrinn's forehead. "It's… I feel as if…" Then he gave a frustrated grimace. "I can't remember."

Q'arlynd watched him a moment more, decided the boy wasn't lying, and let his spell dissipate. He plucked the kiira from Eldrinn's hand and gestured at the chair in the corner. "Sit down, Eldrinn," he suggested. "You don't look well."

Eldrinn nodded. He sat down, picked up his spellbook, and began leafing through it, as if hoping to find the answer there.

Baltak frowned at Q'arlynd. "What just happened?"

"The feeblemind spell," Q'arlynd explained smoothly. He was embarrassing Eldrinn, but it couldn't be helped. The others needed an explanation. "Eldrinn sometimes has… relapses. I was worried it might impair our concentration, but he's over it, now. We'll start again."

Baltak glared at Eldrinn, who was refusing to look up from his spellbook. "Maybe Eldrinn shouldn't be-"

Q'arlynd pressed the kiira into Baltak's hands. "Your hands are steadier. You do it."

Baltak grinned. He strode over to the chitine, pulled a cloth from his pocket, and used it to wipe away the oily film that covered the creature's forehead. "Problem solved," he said, tossing the cloth aside. He held up the kiira. "Let's do it."

"On my signal," Q'arlynd reminded them, lifting his hand. He waited while the others linked minds with him, and forced his way into the chitine's thoughts once more. At his signal, Baltak pressed the crystal to the creature's forehead-hard enough to hurt it-and stepped back.

A rush of images tumbled into Q'arlynd's mind, and through it, into the minds of the four wizards linked with him. The towers of a surface city. A brown-skinned face. A portion of a complex hand gesture. A stone door. A series of pages that flew through the chitine's mind as if they were blown by a howling storm, faster and fasterandfasterand…

Intense pain flared in Q'arlynd's temples as he was forcibly ejected from the chitine's mind. In the same instant he heard the clatter of chains. The chitine hung from its manacles, dead. A thin gray powder trickled out of its nostrils and drifted to the floor: the contents of its skull, instantly seared to ash.

Baltak shook his head. "Mother's blood. That hurt."

Eldrinn blinked rapidly, spellbook forgotten in his lap. Zarifar shivered. Piri pressed his back tightly to the wall and whispered a protective spell.

Q'arlynd's jaw clenched in frustration. The chitine was dead-just like the last test subject. He strode over to it and yanked the slave ring from its limp finger.

"Well?" he asked the others. "Did any of you manage to read those pages?"

Eldrinn and Piri shook their heads.

Baltak shrugged. "They went by too fast for me."

Zarifar fluttered his hands as if trying to recapture the pattern he'd seen. "Like… cave moths. Left… right…"

Eldrinn repeated the gesture they'd just seen, crossing the middle two fingers of his right hand and whipping his extended thumb in a tight circle. Q'arlynd watched expectantly. The boy had read a number of arcane texts, perhaps he recognized the spell it belonged to.

"Well?"

Eldrinn's hand fell. "Sorry. I've no idea what it means."

Q'arlynd gave a tight, frustrated nod.

"Those towers… were they in Talthalaran?" Baltak asked.

"They might have been," Q'arlynd said. "But that's not going to help us much. The city was blasted down to its foundations."

"Maybe we should search the ruins," Baltak said. "Perhaps there's another kiira in-"

"There isn't," Q'arlynd snapped. "But you're welcome to go look for yourself, if you like."

That shut Baltak up.

"That door," Zarifar said. "There were…" His voice trailed off. As usual, he didn't complete his thought. His forefinger traced a line through the air. "Patterns."

Q'arlynd sighed in frustration. This wasn't getting them anywhere.

"The door…" Eldrinn said softly. "I…"

Q'arlynd turned. The distant look was back in Eldrinn's eyes again. "Did you recognize it, Eldrinn? Have you seen it before?"

Eldrinn's eyes cleared. He jumped out of his chair and paced across the room. "I wish I knew!" As he passed the chitine, he halted and wrinkled his nose. "What's that smell?"

"Death," Q'arlynd answered. The chitine had voided its bowels when it died, and the room stank. He felt sorry for the creature, vicious little brute though it was. He reminded himself of the necessity of its sacrifice. At least the death he'd given it had been swift-quicker than it would have suffered at the hands of hunters or one of Lolth's priestesses.

"What's next?" Baltak asked. "Buy another slave and try again?"

Q'arlynd shook his head. "That will have to wait. Eldrinn and I will be departing soon. We'll be away for… a while."

Eldrinn nodded. "Father's orders. A trade mission to Sschindylryn, on behalf of the college."

Baltak nodded at the kiira. "But that's staying here, right? The rest of us can carry on, while you're gone."

"No," Q'arlynd replied. "In the College of Ancient Arcana, we work together. Or not at all."

Baltak shrugged but his eyes clung greedily to the kiira. "Fine. We wait until you get back."

Q'arlynd felt frustration build inside him. We can't wait! he wanted to shout. By then it might be too late! Yet he could hardly tell the others that. Only Eldrinn knew the extent of the looming crisis. He and Q'arlynd had been careful to keep it from the others, even when they were linked mind to mind. The boy wasn't stupid; if word got out that the College of Divination was teetering on the brink, someone just might be willing to give it an extra nudge.

Eldrinn stared at the dead chitine. "We're wasting our time with these lesser races. We need to try it on a drow instead."

"Good idea!" Baltak cried. "What about a battle-captive- someone no one really cares about?"

"What about the body?" Piri whispered from the back of the room. He pointed at Zarifar, who had wandered over to the chitine and was busy scuffing the toe of his boot through the ash at the chitine's feet, drawing in it. "Anyone who sees the corpse is going to wonder which spell burned its brains out so precisely."

"We'll disintegrate the body," Baltak said. "Or use quicklime."

"You're overlooking something," Q'arlynd said. "If the experiment succeeded, the battle-captive would learn the contents of the kiira at the same time we did-including, perhaps, a spell that might allow him to escape." He stared at the others. "We don't want to share our lorestone with anyone else just yet, do we?"

"I suppose you're right," Baltak grudgingly admitted.

"You completely missed my point," Eldrinn said.

Q'arlynd turned to him.

"I wasn't talking about battle-captives-I was talking about me. / could wear the kiira."

Q'arlynd's response was immediate. "No."

"It won't kill me. I know it. I have a… feeling about it. It's almost like…" Eldrinn stared at the lorestone. "A divination, or… something."

"Feeling or not," Q'arlynd said, "my answer is still no. It's too risky."

Eldrinn stood, fists on hips. "Why won't you let me try it, Q'arlynd? Are you worried that Father will find out?"

Q'arlynd nearly laughed. Eldrinn had, unwittingly, put his finger precisely on the problem. Q'arlynd already knew the lorestone wouldn't kill the boy. He had a pretty clear picture of what must have happened, that night on the High Moor. Eldrinn had run off when the monster had attacked the soldier he'd taken along as a bodyguard. Knowing that his own spells were too limited to deal with the monster, Eldrinn must have turned in desperation to the kiira and been unable to handle it. For some reason the lorestone hadn't blasted his brain to ash-Q'arlynd was still trying to figure that part out-but it had left the boy a feeblewit.

If Eldrinn tried the kiira a second time and was once again reduced to a drooling shell, Q'arlynd would be forced to explain how it had happened. Master Seldszar wasn't stupid; he'd guess that something other than the "magical predators" of the High Moor had scrambled the boy's mind, the first time around. He'd leave no mind unsifted until he found out what had really happened. The moment he learned of the kiira he'd claim it for his college, justifying its seizure as compensation for the coin it had cost him to cure the boy. Not once, but twice. And the foundation stone upon which Q'arlynd hoped to build his school would be gone.

"Well," Eldrinn prompted. "Is it Father you're worried about?"

Q'arlynd sighed. "Father" was a term he'd never get used to. It was a word borrowed from the surface elves; the drow of Ched Nasad never had a use for it. Descent was, and always had been, through the female line. The idea of a consort claiming children as his own was ludicrous.

"My answer is still no," Q'arlynd said. He pointed at the dead chitine. "I won't let you be reduced to that."

"I won't be," Eldrinn protested. "I've got an idea. A fool-proof idea." Grinning, he pulled the silver clip from his hair and held it up for the others to see. "This is a contingency clip," he told them.

"What's that?" Baltak asked.

Eldrinn smiled. "Something our college's crafters created. It holds whatever spell is cast into it until a condition of the caster's choosing comes to pass, then releases it. The spell has to be one that affects the caster directly, and it can only be a lesser dweomer, but the spell I have in mind is perfect. I got the idea from the chitine."

"Go on," Q'arlynd said, intrigued despite himself.

"I'll cast a tightly targeted spell into the clip and make the actions of the kiira the contingency. The instant the lorestone tries to kill me, grease will appear on my forehead. The crystal won't be able to stick. It will slide off-just like it did from the chitine."

Q'arlynd nodded to himself. So that was what had happened. Now he understood the greasy smudge he'd seen on Eldrinn's forehead when he'd found the boy on the High Moor. It explained why Eldrinn had survived his first attempt to use the lore-stone. A bit sad, really, that the boy could never be told this.

He realized that Eldrinn was still waiting for his reply. "Using the contingency clip is a clever idea…"

Eldrinn grinned.

"… but I won't allow you to risk yourself."

The grin disappeared. "It will work," Eldrinn said fervently. "I know it."

Q'arlynd stared down at the kiira. "I'm sure it will."

Zarifar was still playing with the ash, but Baltak and Piri watched Q'arlynd intently.

"It's Eldrinn's life," Baltak rumbled. "If he wants to-"

"No," Q'arlynd said. The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. "I'll do it."

Eldrinn's mouth opened in surprise.

"Your contingency clip," Q'arlynd asked him. "It's something any wizard can use, right?"

Eldrinn was about to lie-Q'arlynd could see it in his eye-but then reluctantly nodded. "As long as you're wearing it, yes."

"Even if it's you who casts the spell into the clip?"

Another grudging nod.

"Good," Q'arlynd said. "Do it, but make the contingency that will trigger the spell a little broader. Instead of something that will 'kill' me, word it so that anything that might 'damage' me will trigger the spell. Is that clear?"

Eldrinn nodded.

In another moment, all was ready. The contingency clip had been ensorcelled and clipped to Q'arlynd's hair. The kiira was in his hands. All that remained was to press it to his forehead.

Q'arlynd hesitated. Did he dare?

Of course he did. He must. It would be just like free-falling from a ledge. Whatever happened, the contingency clip would pull him up in time. Already his blood pounded in anticipation of the mental jump.

He motioned Eldrinn and the others away from the chair, then sat down. Slowly, he lifted the kiira to eye level. All of the others stared at him, even Zarifar. "Link with me," he told them.

They did.

Q'arlynd paused to give a mental nod to the others. Baltak stood braced and steady on his wide feet, Zarifar closed his eyes and once again imagined a pattern drawn between them. Piri hovered near the door, seemingly ready to bolt through it. Eldrinn nodded vigorously, as if to assure Q'arlynd that it was, really, all right.

Wherever the kiira took Q'arlynd, they were ready to come along.

"Wish me luck." Q'arlynd pressed the kiira to his forehead.

Eldrinn's eyes sparkled. "Good-"

Q'arlynd shivered. Cold. He felt cold. His legs trembled.

He put out a hand to steady himself and touched stone. He glanced up and saw that he was standing in front of a massive stone door. The carvings on it looked familiar, but he couldn't quite figure out why. He knew he'd seen the door somewhere before, but…

Where in the Abyss was he?

Below ground, somewhere in the Underdark. Somewhere he didn't recognize at all. A corridor stretched away behind him, its walls illuminated with the faintest shimmer of Faerzress, and dead-ended at the door. There was a musty smell in the air, and dust on the floor. And footprints-a lot of footprints. And tools. Picks, pry bars, and-Q'arlynd jumped back in alarm when he saw it-a stonefire bomb, like the ones that had laid waste to Ched Nasad. The bomb was spent, though, its magical fire long since spilled. There was a deep, charred hole in the stone just to the right of the door. Q'arlynd peered into it and saw that the door was thicker than the hole the stonefire had burned.

The puzzle of why someone would do that only briefly took his mind off the central question of where he was and how he'd gotten there. The last thing he could remember was talking to Eldrinn and the others he'd invited to join his school. They'd been standing in Eldrinn's residence in Sshamath, in the experimentation chamber, waiting for the two grimlock slaves to manacle a chitine to the wall so they could perform an experiment with the…

Q'arlynd stared up at the ceiling, searching for the word.

It floated just beyond his grasp. Something small, and pointed, and…

It was gone again.

Eldrinn. Whatever the experiment was, it had something to do with him.

Q'arlynd closed his eyes and tried to think. His thoughts kept circling back to when he'd found the boy wandering on the High Moor in the ruins of ancient Talthalaran. Eldrinn had been struck with a feeblemind spell, and couldn't remember anything about… something,

Q'arlynd felt his face pale. Had the same thing happened to him?

Words came to him then. A sentence that rattled in his head like a pebble in an empty cup. He said it aloud. "Must get it back."

He frowned. Must get what back? And to where?

He turned to the door. Twice as high as he was tall, it was carved with an unusual design: elves and dragons, standing side by side and holding scrolls, as if they were casting spells. A single word, written in archaic High Drowic, arched above the design. It looked like a name: "Kraanfhaor."

The door had no handle or hinges. More properly, it was a slab of stone. Yet Q'arlynd somehow knew it was a door. He touched its surface with his knuckles and spoke a simple, one-word spell: "Obsul!"

Nothing happened. Oddly, that was just what he'd expected.

A voice echoed down the corridor behind him, startling him. "Q'arlynd!"

Eldrinn's voice. He obviously knew Q'arlynd was there. Maybe he'd know why.

Q'arlynd heard footsteps hurrying toward him.

"Q'arlynd, are you there?" asked a different male voice.

He turned and saw Eldrinn running up the corridor, followed by Baltak and Zarifar. Piri was farther back, making his way along the corridor with caution. Alexa, the female Eldrinn was consort to, was also with them. She was about Eldrinn's age, with bangs cut in a severe line across her forehead, and a wide mouth. She wore a leather apron smudged with yellow sulfur and streaks of red ochre. It looked as though she'd just stepped from a magical laboratory. She halted just behind the others and stood with her hands on her hips.

"Well, boys," she said in a voice that was husky from inhaling the smoke of her experiments. "You've found him. Can I get back to my potions, now?"

"In a moment, Alexa," Eldrinn said. He stared at the door, an odd look on his face. "It's the same one we saw," he whispered.

The others nodded.

Eldrinn tore his eyes away from the door and stepped closer to Q'arlynd. "Are you all right?"

Q'arlynd opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "I really have no idea." He glanced down at himself. His body, at least, looked normal enough. Am I? he wondered.

Baltak stepped between them. "Why'd you teleport away?"

Q'arlynd simply stared at him. So that was how he got there. By teleporting.

Calm. He had to stay calm.

Piri sidled up to them. "You said something." He stared at the door, but his eyes kept sliding toward Q'arlynd's forehead. " 'I've got to put it back,' you said. Then you vanished."

Alexa stepped closer. "Put what back?"

Eldrinn caught Q'arlynd's eye; he looked worried. "Sorry," the boy muttered. "Everyone insisted on coming. We needed a teleportation circle to get us all here, and the nearest one was in the College of Conjuration. We needed Alexa's help to activate it-even so, it took three tries to get it to work. I wasn't trying to force your hand by bringing her. Honest."

"I see," Q'arlynd said. He didn't, though. He understood that Eldrinn was worried about him getting angry, and that Alexa shouldn't be there. But why-and just where there was-remained a mystery.

Baltak circled Q'arlynd, eyeing him intently. He stopped in front of Q'arlynd and stared at his forehead, as if he were trying to bore a hole with his eyes and see inside it. Sparkles of faerie fire erupted from Baltak's own forehead. Q'arlynd felt Baltak's awareness push into his mind.

"What are you doing?" he asked, shoving the transmogrifist out.

"Where is it?" Baltak demanded.

"Where is what?"

"The kiira."

Alexa's eyes widened. "He's got a kiira?"

"Not any more," Baltak said.

Q'arlynd felt a chill run through him. Something was wrong. Very wrong. His stomach felt as though it were flopping like a landed blindfish.

"A kiira," he whispered. So that was what had done this to him. He'd obviously been foolish enough to try wearing a lorestone. Why?

Then he remembered Miverra's warning. In a tenday, perhaps even sooner, divination spells would become impossible and the College of Divination would fall. Q'arlynd needed his school to be recognized as a college before then. In order for that to happen, the experiments with the-with the kiira, he realized-had to be speeded up. The spells inside the-the kiira-had to be recovered, mastered, and…

A flash of memory came back: his hands, holding a lorestone.

By all the gods. He had put a kiira on his head.

He must have been crazy.

Alexa stepped closer and ran a hand over the carving on the door. "What is this place?" she asked. She craned her head to look up at the inscription. "Kraanfhaor. What's that? An ancient House name?"

"Not a House," Piri said softly. "A college."

Q'arlynd ran a hand through his hair. His fingers were trembling. He had no idea what Piri was talking about-but admitting that would make him seem a fool in front of the others. He assumed the tone of a master grilling a student. "Tell the others what you know about it, Piri."

"I read about this place in a text written by the surface elves. The entry was a short one. It said only that 'Kraanfhaor's Door' was supposedly the entrance to an ancient college of the same name, one that dated back millennia, to an age before the Descent. It added that dozens of adventurers have tried to open the door, and dozens have failed." Piri shrugged. "That's all there was, but I think we can guess the rest." His glance slid sideways to Q'arlynd. "This is where you found the kiira, isn't it?"

"Abyss take me," Baltak blurted. "We're in the ruins of Talthalaran?"

"Yes," Q'arlynd said, his mind racing. "Talthalaran."

That sounded right, somehow. It helped Q'arlynd-a little-to know where he was: somewhere under the High Moor. In Talthalaran. But how could he have teleported there? During his months spent searching that ruined city, he'd found one or two subterranean chambers that had survived the Dark Disaster, but none that looked like this. He was certain he'd never seen this place before. Except, perhaps, for the door…

He glanced at it again. No, he was wrong. He definitely hadn't seen it before.

Then how had he teleported there?

A terrible realization came to him then: he must have seen it before. Perhaps even been there before. The kiira had torn a hole in his memory, ripping chunks of it away like a hand clawing apart a fragile web.

Eldrinn stared at the door. "You know something? I have the oddest feeling. That I've stood here once before. In front of Kraanfhaor's Door."

Q'arlynd was instantly wary, though he didn't understand why.

"I remember…" Eldrinn tipped his head and closed his eyes slightly. "The moor. Someone shouting at me. Something in my hands." He began to lift his hands to his forehead, then abruptly halted. His eyes sprang open and he glared at Q'arlynd. "I had the kiira, didn't I? When you found me on the High Moor. I tried it, and it feebleminded me, and I forgot all about it. And now the same thing's happened to you. Except that you weren't feebleminded, because you knew how to word the contingency."

"That's… possible," Q'arlynd admitted.

Eldrinn's eyes narrowed. "You lied to me," he said in a tight, quiet voice. "You didn't find the kiira. I did. And you took it from me."

Nervous sweat trickled down Q'arlynd's back. The boy had accused him, and the others were all staring. If Q'arlynd didn't come up with something quickly, everything would fall apart. The relationship he'd built with Eldrinn and the other three mages he'd selected as apprentices-not to mention the steady source of coin the boy's father provided-all teetered on the brink of ruin. Yet what could he say?

Then it came to him. Drawing himself up, he spoke imperiously, like a matron mother addressing a boy. "You're alive, Eldrinn," he said sternly. "Any other drow would have slain you-or left you to fend for yourself on the High Moor, fodder for the monsters that prowl there. I, however, not only saved you, but invited to share with you whatever knowledge the kiira held. And where is your gratitude?"

The other mages were staring at Eldrinn. The sava board had been turned. The boy winced. He opened his mouth, closed it, then muttered a grudging apology. "Sorry, Q'arlynd."

Q'arlynd acknowledged it with a nod, then turned to the others. "Did any of you see me put the kiira back?"

"You must have," Baltak said. "It's gone."

"Yes, but did you see me?"

"Not directly," Eldrinn said, finding his voice again. "But only a few moments elapsed between the time you teleported away and my scrying; you probably teleported straight here. When I saw you in the font, you were standing with your palm pressed to the door, as if you'd just pushed it shut."

"So you're not certain I opened the door," Q'arlynd said. "Perhaps the kiira is still on me, or somewhere nearby. Search me."

"All right." Eldrinn pulled a piece of forked twig from his pocket and whispered a quick incantation. He held the twig above Q'arlynd's head, then ran it down first the front of his body, then the back.

"You don't have it," he concluded. "And…" He turned in a circle. "It's not here. At least, not on this side of the door."

Q'arlynd's heart raced. "So I 'put it back,' did I?" He turned slowly toward Kraanfhaor's Door. If it turned out to be what he suspected, knowledge beyond his wildest dreams was his for the taking. "That's an odd choice of words-one which makes me wonder what this door opens onto. A library with dozens of ancient kiira? Hundreds? Thousands?" He paused for breath, barely able to restrain himself from laughing out loud in delight. If this door could be opened, it wouldn't matter if the College of Divination fell. Beyond the door was a treasure trove he could use to purchase all of the power and prestige any wizard could ever desire.

Assuming he was right about what lay behind it.

He glanced at the others and smiled as he saw parted lips and gleams in their eyes. Even Zarifar was paying attention. So was Alexa, but that couldn't be helped. Q'arlynd would have to invite her to join his college as his fifth apprentice, after all, to ensure her silence. Fortunately the ring was in his pocket. He might need it to test her potential loyalty.

"Instead of squabbling about who had the lorestone first," he suggested, "we should ask ourselves a more important question." He rapped a hand against the door. "How do we get this open again?"

Eldrinn nudged the empty stonefire bomb with a toe. "It's supposedly impossible."

"Wrong," Q'arlynd said. "I just opened it, didn't I? And if you had the kiira before me, Eldrinn, you must have gotten it from somewhere-perhaps by also opening the door. We just need to figure out how it's done."

He turned to the others. "Piri, I want you to study that text you read for other clues. Baltak, you can try assuming different shapes; perhaps the door is keyed to a particular race. Alexa can provide teleportation back and forth between Sshamath and here. Assuming, that is, she's willing to join our school and not tell anyone else about the door."

Alexa nodded briskly.

"And Zarifar can…" Q'arlynd paused. The geometer mage stared dreamily at a spot above Kraanfhaor's Door, idly tracing a pattern in the air with his finger. "Zarifar can study the door's… patterns. Or something. Eldrinn and I will be away for a time on the trade mission, but I'll be scrying you-frequently-to check on your progress."

That would, of course, be impossible where Q'arlynd was going-but they needn't know that.

He held up a finger in a gesture reminiscent of a lecturing master. "Remember this: if any of us does find the key, I want him to inform the others immediately. When the time comes to open the door, we're going to do it together."

Heads dutifully nodded.

Q'arlynd knew better than to trust them, however. They'd only worn their rings a short time, and they weren't used to working as a team yet. One or more of them would probably try opening the door on his own-or her own-while he and Eldrinn were gone. Q'arlynd doubted they would succeed, though. Eldrinn, he suspected, was the key.

And Q'arlynd intended to keep that key securely in his pocket.