Storm of the Dead

CHAPTER 6

Urlryn Khalazza strode through the scriptorium door-literally strode through it, as if the heavy wooden door were a mere illusion. The scribe at the table closest to the door gave a start and lost control of his quill, but the others kept at their copywork, forefingers twitching as they magically directed quills that scribbled rapidly on parchment.

Seldszar glanced past the tiny spheres that circled his head, noting the door. For several moments, it held an outline of Urlryn, limned in crackling indigo. Then the faerie fire faded.

"Master Urlryn," he said. "Thank you for responding so swiftly to my invitation."

The master of the College of Conjuration and Summoning nodded. He was a large male, broad-shouldered for a drow, with a stomach that strained the ties of his vest, the visible result of his love of excessively rich, conjured feasts. His college insignia hung against his chest on a mithral chain: a golden goblet, ensorcelled to expand and fill with wine whenever he raised it to his wide lips. Though Urlryn's thinning hair and drooping jowls gave the impression of age and sloth, he was amply protected. Trotting at his side-invisible to the scribes but clear to Seldszar's eye-was a vicious phantasmal dog. It eyed Seldszar warily, lips twitching and hackles raised. At the slightest hint of a threat to its master, it would attack.

Urlryn halted in front of Seldszar and stared meaningfully at the faerie fire that sparked from the other master's forehead. "You wish to discuss our mutual problem?"

"Indeed I do." Seldszar spoke while staring at the spheres. Though the faerie fire posed irritating interruptions to his view of them, his observations continued. He'd shifted their focus to his own college and the mages therein. "I've learned something interesting about the… disruption."

Urlryn cleared his throat in warning and tipped his head at the nearest scribes.

"Indeed," Seldszar told him. "Pointed ears and private business." He hissed, releasing a spell. Heads thunked onto wooden tables as the scribes fell forward, unconscious. An inkwell clattered to the floor, leaving a splash of dark blue ink. The quills continued scribbling a moment more, then collapsed onto their parchments.

"Have your sages come up with any answers yet?" Urlryn asked.

Seldszar glanced briefly at the sphere that showed his college's most learned wizards arguing vociferously around a table. "No. But I recently received a visitor who claims to know who's causing this plague of faerie fire-though she was vague on the details. That visitor was a priestess of Eilistraee, from the Promenade. She blames Kiaransalee's cult. Something they are doing in a temple far to the northeast is augmenting Faerzress throughout the Underdark-including ours."

"I see."

For several moments, neither wizard spoke. The only sound came from a water clock that hung from the scriptorium's ceiling. Drops fell steadily from a tiny hole in the bottom of the cut-glass bowl into a pan below with dull, metallic thunks. The clock was a thing of the World Above, calibrated to mark the quarters of the day and night, so of little practical use in the Underdark-until then. Like the water sinking almost imperceptibly lower in the bowl, time was running out.

"I, too, received a visitor," Urlryn said at last. "A cleric of Vhaeraun, from Skullport. He told me much the same thing. Including the fact that the augmentation of the Faerzress seems to be affecting only drow."

Seldszar nodded, his attention still on his spheres. He'd offered the other master a morsel of information, and Urlryn had done as he'd anticipated. Gulped it down, then offered a tidbit of his own. It was the way the game was played.

Seldszar, of course, already knew of the "Nightshadow's" visit to Urlryn's college. When Miverra had departed from his college, Seldszar had locked one of his tiny crystal balls on her. Through it, he'd seen her alter her female body, reshaping it into the image of a male rogue. She'd then teleported into the heart of the College of Conjuration and Summoning-something that should have been impossible for a stranger. It had drawn Urlryn's attention at once. Questioned by him, she admitted to being a Nightshadow, then spun much the same story for Urlryn that she had for Seldszar.

Except that she'd told Urlryn it was Vhaeraun's clerics who needed the Conclave's aid.

It was almost as if she'd known of Urlryn's role in conveying the survivors of the slaughter in the Tower of the Masked Mage to safety-an act that had seemed out of character for Urlryn, unless one knew of the little "favor" the black-masked assassins had done for him, more than a dozen years ago. A favor involving poison.

"Did you believe the Nightshadow's story?" Seldszar asked.

Urlryn shrugged. "Possibly."

Noncommittal answers were typical of Urlryn. Yet the other master had obviously taken the visitor seriously. Like Seldszar, Urlryn had agreed to attach wizards from his college to the band of spies that would be snooping around Kiaransalee's temple. Even then, one of the spheres orbiting Seldszar's head showed Urlryn's three conjurers making their departure. Fortunately, it zipped past too swiftly for Urlryn to make out details of the scene it contained.

"Did you tell the Nightshadow anything about the Faerzress?" Seldszar asked. He waited for the answer-there was a slight chance that Urlryn had confounded his earlier scrying.

The other master shook his head. "No."

Seldszar saw his purple sphere speed past; its color hadn't changed. Urlryn might have shielded his mind against intrusion-every mage capable of it did so whenever they stepped within range of Seldszar's spells-but Urlryn couldn't do anything about the crystal. He wasn't lying. Their secret was safe.

And a strange secret it was. For centuries, it had been passed down from one master to the next. Seldszar wasn't privy to how this had been done in the College of Conjuration and Summoning, but he knew how it worked within his own college. More than two centuries ago, when the previous master of the College of Divination had died and Seldszar had been selected to sit in the master's chair, he'd had a dream. In it, the college's first master, Chal'dzar, had appeared in ghostly form to impart the tale of how their city came to be.

More than four thousand years ago, Chal'dzar, together with a powerful conjurer named Yithzin who specialized in teleportation, had worked a spell that forever altered the face of Sshamath. They'd wrenched loose the Faerzress that permeated the stone surrounding the city, forever flinging aside this impediment to their spells.

Or so they thought. For three centuries prior to their casting, more males than females had been born. After the Faerzress "disappeared," the city's rulers-at that time, priestesses of Lolth-noticed that males trained in spellcasting were developing augmented powers. If the uneven birthrates persisted, those individuals, combined, would one day wield power greater than Lolth's clergy. In a typically drow attempt to thwart the rebellion they were certain would come, the priestesses attempted a culling of those with arcane talent. Their attack quickly brought about the rebellion they'd tried to prevent in the first place. The noble Houses fell and the wizards stepped into power. The Conclave had ruled Sshamath ever since.

The ghostly Chal'dzar had imparted no details of the spell he and his partner had wrought, but he had speculated upon one point. That the Faerzress, instead of being shifted to another location in the Underdark, had found a new home in Sshamath: within the drow who inhabited the city. Were all of Sshamath's drow to suddenly depart the cavern, he surmised, the Faerzress would return to the stone from whence it came.

The centuries that followed provided ample evidence that Chal'dzar had guessed correctly. As the city's population rose, the percentage of those born with innate arcane talents gradually declined. The Faerzress, it seemed, spread itself thinner as it took up residence within all of the drow of Sshamath-both those born there and those only recently arrived in the city-until it bled out of them every time a drow cast a spell involving divination or any of the various modes of teleportation.

With a nod, Seldszar indicated the faerie fire that crackled between his forehead and the circling spheres. "Did the Nightshadow warn you that it's going to get worse?"

"Yes. Though it won't be as bad for us as it will be for you. Only about half of our spells will cease to function. We'll still have one leg to stand on-until someone shoves us over." Urlryn gave a sarcastic laugh. "I might be able to fool the other masters, for a time, by arranging for an 'incident' that will force a magical lockdown of the city, but Masoj will figure it out, in time."

"As will the rest of the Conclave," Seldszar said. He nodded at the sphere that showed the cluster of fine-spun stalagmites and stalactites that formed the temple of the Spider Queen, but it moved too quickly for Urlryn to peer into it. "And so will Lolth's priestesses. They may jump to the conclusion that all of the colleges are about to topple. It could be the Rebellion, all over again. In reverse, this time."

Urlryn conjured a silk handkerchief into his hand and wiped his forehead. Despite the cool, dry air of the scriptorium, he was sweating. A flick of his fingers, and the handkerchief vanished. "Do you think it is the Crones?"

"I don't need to think. I know. They are the cause of it."

Urlryn tilted his head slightly, something he did whenever he had second thoughts. "Should we inform the Conclave? Send an army?"

"No," Seldszar said. Forcibly. "That would be the wrong thing to do."

Urlryn nodded. "One of your premonitions?"

"Yes." Seldszar spoke more to himself than to Urlryn. "Absolutely the wrong thing to do. Observe." He held one palm over the other and spoke an incantation; after a moment, an image appeared between them. Into it, he projected the memory of what his brief contact with the Astral Plane had revealed: a glimpse into a future in which the warriors of Sshamath fought, died, then rose to fight again-against their former comrades. Wave upon wave of undead spread through the Underdark, overwhelming all like a rushing tide, feeding and growing with each new army sent against it. As the vision unfolded, a single word pealed like a bell: Defeat… Defeat… Defeat.

"Thus did the Observarium predict," Seldszar said, clapping his hands shut.

It was a moment before Urlryn spoke. "If we could find a way to reverse the spell that Yithzin and Chal'dzar cast and drive the Faerzress back into the stone, then perhaps-"

"I thought of that too, but it's no solution. It will conceal the problem but not make it go away. Inside us or inside the stone of Sshamath's cavern, the Faerzress will still negate our spells."

"Our colleges could relocate. Somewhere beyond the effect."

"To where? A city ruled by these?" Seldszar snatched one of his crystals out of the air, focused it on Lolth's temple in Menzoberranzan, and held it up for Urlryn to see. Inside the tiny sphere, a priestess moved through a temple nursery, her snake-headed whip driving a terrified gaggle of children ahead of her. One male slipped on his own blood, fell-and continued to be whipped, long after his small body had stopped twitching.

Urlryn's lip curled.

Seldszar flicked the sphere back into orbit. "Even if we chose to flee, it would only be a temporary measure. Our visitor said the effect would spread across all of Faerun. Throughout the Underdark. There's nowhere to run to. Save for the World Above. And that's somewhere, I'm sure, neither you nor I would ever choose to live."

"There must be a way out of this," Urlryn said. "We just haven't seen it yet."

Seldszar glanced at his fellow master, eyes glittering. "I'd like to show you something. Indulge me, if you would. Transpose us."

The other master looked puzzled. "As you wish." He moved a few paces away from Seldszar, then held up his hand. "Ready?"

Seldszar nodded.

Urlryn stared at Seldszar's feet, then snapped his fingers. Instantly, the two swapped places. Urlryn stood next to the water clock, his body shimmering with faerie fire. Seldszar peered back at him through his own veil of pale-green sparkles.

"Again," Seldszar demanded.

With a whispered word, Urlryn magically swapped their positions a second time.

"Again."

By the third translocation, both mages were covered head to toe in glittering faerie fire. Urlryn, squinting, threw up his hands. "Enough! What does this prove?"

Seldszar held out his arms and turned in a slow circle. "What do you observe?"

Urlryn squinted against the glare of the faerie fire that surrounded him. He waved a hand in front of his face, as if trying to shoo away a gnat. "Not much, thanks to this."

"Yes, but note the color. Your faerie fire is a deep blue. Mine, a pale green."

"Signifying?"

"Indulge me a moment more. Summon faerie fire intentionally, this time. See if you can make it violet, instead."

Urlryn spoke a brief incantation and traced a finger through the air. The water inside the clock was suddenly illuminated from within by motes of indigo. A frown of concentration on his forehead, he shifted the hue to a lighter blue, then to green, then back to blue again and finally to a purplish shade.

"As I thought," Seldszar said. "You can consciously manifest faerie fire in any shade you wish, but the involuntary manifestations are limited to your habitual color."

Urlryn stared at Seldszar." 'Habitual color.' That's a term I haven't heard before."

Seldszar smiled. "It's one I came up with a few years back. A little academic, but it will serve. Ask a drow to evoke faerie fire, and he'll habitually manifest a particular color. The same color, I'll wager, that he's involuntarily manifesting now." He gestured at the unconscious mages. "Were we to wake one of them up and repeat the experiment I just performed, you'd see the same thing. The faerie fire he manifests when asked to cast a divination or to teleport will match whatever his habitual color is."

Seldszar snatched one of his crystals from the air. "Observe the mages of my college."

Urlryn moved closer and peered into the crystal. Within it, blue faerie fire crackled around the head of one wizard as he cast a spell, and green around the hands of another. Still other mages emitted lavender or purple hues when casting their divinations.

Seldszar tossed the sphere into orbit again. "There's a hypothesis I've been researching for some time. That Faerzress and faerie fire are one and the same thing. Hence, the odd spelling. 'Faerie' instead of 'fairy.' It wasn't originally 'faerie fire,' but 'Faerzress fire.' "

Urlryn folded his arms. "You mean to tell me that every drow on Toril has Faerzress energy inside him? Not just those in Sshamath? Did Yithzin and Chal'dzar's spell extend that far?"

"I don't think so," Seldszar said. "But it looks as though every drow-spellcaster or not-can channel that energy. Act as a conduit for it. Our race is linked with it, somehow."

"That would explain why drow are the only ones affected by the augmentation of the Faerzress." Urlryn paced back and forth. "But why would Kiaransalee's cult-if they are indeed behind this-instigate something that would hamstring every drow on Toril? What purpose would that serve?"

"Who knows?" Seldszar shook his head. "From the little I've heard of Kiaransalee's worship, that goddess is even more crazed than Lolth. Perhaps this is Kiaransalee's version of the Silence."

"A 'web of silence,' " the other master said, quoting the ancient song. " 'And at its center, death.' " He looked up.

"So how does your deeper understanding of 'Faerzress fire' help us?"

"It doesn't-unless we can find a way to break the link between drow and Faerzress energy."

"A difficult undertaking," Urlryn observed.

"Yes. One that may take months-even years. Time we don't have." Seldszar locked his eyes on the other master. "Which is why I asked you here today. I propose an alliance of our two colleges. Pooling our respective talents is our best hope at finding the answer before it's too late. You will share with me the fruits of whatever your sages might discover-and I will do the same, with you." He paused. "Well? Will you agree to it?"

"I will." Urlryn bowed, his stomach straining the front of his vest. "You have my word on it."

A quick glance at the discernment sphere-which had darkened, but only slightly-told Seldszar the other master was telling the truth, for the most part. He would cooperate. For now.

"I thank you for your time," Seldszar told Urlryn. "And your ear. It's comforting to know that another master shares my concerns."

"Q'arlynd, what a pleasant surprise," Qilue said. "I had wondered if I would see you again. Your departure from the Promenade a year and a half ago was somewhat… abrupt."

Q'arlynd, Eldrinn and the other two diviners bowed as the high priestesses entered the room. Qilue was just as imposing-and beautiful-as Q'arlynd remembered. "I apologize for that, Lady Qilue, but I had pressing business elsewhere," he said as he rose from his bow.

"You wound up in Sshamath, Miverra tells me."

"The city of wizards suits me, Lady. I've made my home there." This wouldn't be news to Qilue. She would have scried him after he left the Promenade. Several times since then, the back of his neck had prickled, telling him that someone was looking at him from afar. Of course, that could have been Master Seldszar.

"Miverra also told me you've founded a school of wizardry there. Are these your apprentices?"

Q'arlynd noted-without directly looking at Eldrinn-that the boy's shoulders tensed. The other two wizards Master Seldszar had chosen for this mission were listening closely; they would have already noted the time Q'arlynd and Eldrinn had been spending together, and would wonder if the son was planning to step out from his father's shadow.

Q'arlynd smiled. "Having a school recognized as a college is the dream of every wizard in Sshamath," he said smoothly. "As for my 'school,' it's little more than a salon. A gathering of friends of the master's young son, here." He spread his hands. "I teach them what I can."

Qilue's eyes locked on his. "Teleportation?"

"Among other things."

"You were very good at it, as I recall."

Q'arlynd tipped his head.

He wondered if the teleport he'd just performed had been a test, either of the Promenade's defenses or of the degree to which the increase in Faerzress energy was affecting Sshamath. Perhaps both. He supposed he'd passed. Despite the faerie fire that had erupted when he'd cast his spell, it had been a relatively easy jump. It helped that the room Miverra had shown him in her scrying was quite a distinctive chamber: circular, its walls ribbed with arched columns that met overhead, and with only the one exit. The floor was inlaid with thousands of chips of colored stone: a mosaic that showed drow females practicing swordplay.

Qilue turned to the wizards who had accompanied him. "I am Lady Qilue, high priestess of the Promenade, Chosen of Mystra. And these mages are…?"

Q'arlynd gestured at their most senior member. "Khorl Krissellian, sorcerer and farseer."

Khorl was a sun elf with pale skin and off-white hair. As he stepped forward and returned Qilue's bow, his age-seamed face betrayed just a hint of haughtiness. He was nearly four centuries old and had lived the bulk of his life in Sshamath. Long enough to dress like a drow and be just as scheming, yet he still ranked drow one notch below the "true" elven race.

His greeting, slow and deep, was entirely cordial, however. "Lady Qilue, Chosen of Mystra. It is indeed an honor to meet the one about whom I have heard so many wondrous tales." The magical amulets on the fringes of his piwafwi tinkled as he rose.

Q'arlynd introduced the second mage. "Daffir the Prescient."

"Madam," Daffir said, bowing. He was a human from the south, his skin nearly as dark as a drow's. He was bald, whip-thin, and as tall as Qilue. Dark oval lenses hovered just in front of his eyes, hiding them. He leaned on the staff Eldrinn had been holding when Q'arlynd found him on the High Moor. The fact that another wizard had been allowed to carry it out of the city proved just how seriously Master Seldszar took their mission; the staff was one of his most treasured possessions. Next to his son, of course.

"A human and a sun elf," Qilue' said. "Wise choices for where you're headed."

Q'arlynd nodded. "Our third member is Eldrinn Elpragh, also of the College of Divination."

Eldrinn bowed. "Will you lead the expedition, Lady Qilue?"

The high priestess shook her head. "I have pressing business that requires my presence here in the Promenade." As she spoke, her right hand drifted toward her hip to the place where a sword would normally hang, then halted as if she'd just realized she was unarmed. A curious gesture.

"I wanted to meet you all in person, and to thank you for joining our expedition," Qilue continued. "Please come with me. I wish to speak to all of its members before you depart."

Q'arlynd and the others followed her through the door. She led them deeper into the building, which turned out to be a barracks. They passed several closed doors. The sound of voices raised in song filled the area-predominantly female voices, underscored by a handful of deeper male voices.

Eventually the corridor ended at massive double doors that opened onto a large, rectangular marshalling hall. Shields hung on the longer walls, while crossed swords were mounted above each doorway. The vaulted ceiling's carved central beam resembled a crescent moon resting on its points. Yet it wasn't the architecture that caught Q'arlynd's eye. Three drow stood at the center of the hall, glancing around as if they too had just arrived there.

Two were male, one female. One of them, Q'arlynd immediately recognized: Gilkriz, one of the senior wizards of Sshamath's College of Conjuration and Summoning. Beak-nosed, Gilkriz stood with arms folded, his ring-bedecked fingers restlessly drumming against his cloth-of-gold sleeves. A gold skullcap adorned his shaven head.

Q'arlynd tucked a hand under one arm, nudged Eldrinn with his elbow and spoke in sign with his hidden hand. What's he doing here? And who are the other two?

Eldrinn answered in kind. Don't worry. Father warned me about this. They'll be working with us.

Q'arlynd had to damp down his irritation. Eldrinn should have told him this before now.

Khorl glanced sidelong at Eldrinn, as if looking for a cue to hang his reaction on. Daffir only nodded to himself, as if he'd been expecting this.

Eldrinn squared his shoulders and strode to where the other wizards stood. "Gilkriz," he said with a polite nod. "Glad to see you here. Urlryn chose wisely." He turned to the others, nodding at each in turn. "Jyzrill. Mazeer. Good to have you along, also."

Q'arlynd hid his wince. The boy was trying to take charge but doing a less than convincing job of it. He was too young, his movements too uncertain.

Jyzrill, an unusually short male with a pointed chin and a deep scowl that would have been more in place on a dwarf, muttered a greeting. The other mage, Mazeer, stood with hands on hips, forearms bristling with wands that were shoved into a two specially designed bracers. Her voice was silky as she returned Eldrinn's greeting, but her eyes remained cold as steel.

Gilkriz ignored Eldrinn. He turned to the other diviners and smiled, revealing gold-capped teeth. "Khorl. Daffir. So glad you'll be helping out with this one." He turned to Q'arlynd. "And…"

Eldrinn answered before Q'arlynd could. "Q'arlynd Melarn, originally of Ched Nasad. A prominent battle mage from that city who joined our college more than a year ago-an addition which obviously escaped your notice."

Q'arlynd gave a slight nod-just enough to be polite.

"Ah yes," Gilkriz said. "I remember now. Isn't this the wizard who rescued you after your disastrous journey to the surface? The trip that left you a feeblewit?" His derisive chuckle was echoed by the slight twist of Jyzrill's and Mazeer's lips.

Eldrinn's nostrils flared. "I-"

"Say nothing, Eldrinn," Q'arlynd interrupted. "They're trying to learn now what their spies failed to uncover earlier. One of their wizards probably faces a similar problem, himself-and they don't know what to do about it."

Eldrinn had the good sense to smile knowingly.

Voices filled the space behind them. Q'arlynd glanced back at the double doors where Qilue still stood. Striding through them was a statuesque female Q'arlynd recognized at once: Cavatina, slayer of Selvetarm. Six females followed her: five drow and surprisingly, a halfling who wore the full vestments of Eilistraee's faith. The priestesses deferred to Cavatina with every gesture, their expressions filled with awe.

Mixed into the priestesses' ranks were an equal number of Nightshadows: six in all. Though the males walked with the priestesses, they conveyed the impression of being separate from them. They kept sneaking glances at Cavatina-their expressions wary rather than worshipful.

Q'arlynd was instantly on alert. He scanned the Nightshadows' faces, looking for signs that any had recognized him, but the glances they gave him were bland. They paid no more attention to him than they did to any of the other mages.

The thin, muscular male was obviously the Nightshadows' leader. He was dressed all in black. A mask covered much of his face. An old scar puckered his left eye. His long stride compelled Cavatina to speed up in order to keep ahead of him.

Q'arlynd gave a mental head shake. Just like the wizards, the clerics and priestesses were trying to one-up each other. Factions within factions.

He glanced at Qilue. As always, her expression was impassive. She watched the newcomers sort themselves out. Then she shut the double doors and strode to the front of the hall.

Aside from Cavatina-and Daffir, whose height made him tower above the drow males-Qilue was the tallest in the room. When she held her hands above her head, the murmurs fell away.

"A song of welcome," she ordered, "for the mages of Sshamath."

The females broke into song. The male clerics joined in a heartbeat later. They sang in low voices, as if unused to talking above a whisper. Their leader studied the wizards as he sang. He actually met their eyes-a rarity, for a Nightshadow.

When the song ended, Qilue nodded at Cavatina. "For most of you, the priestess who will lead this expedition needs no introduction. But those from Sshamath may not know her." She waved Cavatina forward. "The Darksong Knight Cavatina, slayer of Selvetarm."

Q'arlynd glanced at his fellow mages. Their lips parted slightly, their eyes widened. Only Khorl remained unmoved. Eldrinn stared like a smitten house boy until Q'arlynd nudged him.

Cavatina, poised as a statue, glanced down her nose at the group. Her eyes briefly lingered on Q'arlynd-she obviously recognized him-but she made no move to acknowledge him.

Qilue stepped back a pace. "Cavatina will tell you what lies ahead. May the Masked Lady bless you all and watch over you." That said, she vanished.

Q'arlynd was tempted to pull his crystal out of his pocket and sneak a glance through it to see if the high priestess had really teleported away-or if she lingered nearby, watching invisibly-but that was only idle curiosity. He studied Cavatina instead. He'd met her only briefly, nearly two years ago. He wanted to get a sense of what she'd be like as a leader.

The Darksong Knight was not one to waste time with formal greetings. "You all know our mission," she told them. "To halt whatever's augmenting the Faerzress. We believe the cause to lie within Kiaransalee's Acropolis. That's what has prompted our decision to attack it."

Q'arlynd's eyebrows rose. He caught Eldrinn's eye. Attack? he signed, down where no one else would see it.

Eldrinn gave a slight shrug.

Q'arlynd glanced at Gilkriz. The conjurer's eyebrows had drawn together slightly. Gilkriz was hiding it, for the most part, but he seemed as surprised by Cavatina's choice of words as Q'arlynd had been. He, too, must have been told it was merely a scouting mission.

"We leave tonight, as soon as Selune has risen," Cavatina continued. "We'll be using the Moonspring Portal. Those of you who haven't used it before should note that it involves immersion in water. If you're carrying scrolls or equipment that will be harmed by a dunking, either find a way to protect them or leave them behind." She paused. "And if any of you can't swim, now's the time to say so. We'll be emerging into a lake. A deep lake."

"The Moondeep," said the Nightshadow that the others deferred to. He stepped forward a pace, shoulder to shoulder with Cavatina. "Northeast of the Moondeep Sea, in the Deep Wastes. Several leagues from our destination. Teleportation isn't possible where we're going, so be prepared for a long hike."

"Thank you, Karas," Cavatina said, easing in front of him. "I'll take it from here."

She snapped her fingers, and a drift disc hissed into the room. The group parted, letting it pass through their ranks. It slid to a stop in front of Cavatina. She tugged on the edge of the shield-sized disc and turned it to the vertical. Q'arlynd saw that it was engraved with a map. With the point of her sword, Cavatina gestured at an irregularly shaped oval.

"The Acropolis of Thanatos lies here, in this cavern." Her sword point shifted to a larger circle on the opposite side of the map. "We'll be portalling in here, at the Moondeep Sea. From there, we'll enter a played-out duergar mine, several tunnels of which eventually lead to the cavern that houses the Acropolis. Those passages will be well guarded, but this one-" the sword traced a line that snaked away from the sea, but stopped before reaching the first cavern she'd pointed out- "won't be. It's on one of the lowest levels of the mine and partially flooded. At its end is an entrance the Crones don't yet know about. It only just opened up, due to a recent collapse. They haven't found it because it's below water." Her sword tapped the drift disc again with a faint clank. "That's our way in."

Karas glanced at the map. "With respect, Lady Cavatina, there's something you're overlooking. We're a large group. Too large to hide easily, with members who aren't as skilled in stealth as Nightshadows. For this 'attack' to work, we need to hold the main force back and send in spies-and from more than one direction." His finger traced its own line across the map to the cavern of the Acropolis. "Enter the Crones' cavern not only by the route you just named, but also here, and here, and-"

"No." Cavatina's voice was firm. She tapped the map. "This will be the only unguarded route."

"My Nightshadows can slip past any guards."

"Once past them, they'll need the battle experience and singing swords of the Protectors. And the spells of the wizards. No, we stick together." She paused. "Qilue's orders."

Karas bowed, but not before Q'arlynd spotted a flash of anger in his eyes.

Cavatina went on to describe the Acropolis itself. The temple, she told them, was situated on an island in the middle of a lake-filled cavern. A cavern immediately recognizable by the thousands of skulls spiked into its stone ceiling. The island had once been home to V'elddrinnsshar, a drow city that fell a century ago to plague-a remark that raised nervous murmurs in the assembled crowd. Cavatina assured them the plague was long gone. She reminded them that the ruined city was home to much more potent dangers: Kiaransalee's priestesses and their undead minions.

She touched what looked like a square wooden bead tied about her upper left arm. All of the priestesses and Nightshadows wore a similar bead. "These phylacteries will help my clerics and priestesses fight the undead." She turned to the wizards. "I assume you've made similar preparations?"

"Indeed we have, Lady," Gilkriz said, nodding down at one of the rings on his ever-drumming fingers. Beside him, Mazeer lifted one arm, drawing attention to the wands sheathed in her bracer. Jyzrill simply snorted, as if his scowl would be enough to wither undead where they stood.

"My staff will warn me," Daffir said.

"As will my trinkets," said Khorl.

"We're protected," said Eldrinn, indicating both Q'arlynd and himself.

Q'arlynd nodded in agreement. Master Seldszar had given the boy half a dozen potions; each would provide complete concealment from undead creatures-for a time. Three of these rested in Q'arlynd's pocket for "safekeeping."

"I hope so," Cavatina said. "If it comes to a battle, we won't just face mindless animated corpses. Many Crones embrace undeath themselves, or rise as revenants when slain, as Karas can personally attest."

Karas looked uncomfortable-a fact Q'arlynd noted with more than a little alarm. Cavatina had spilled something the Nightshadow hadn't wanted her to. She didn't know when to keep her mouth shut. At the first opportunity, Q'arlynd would have to speak to the Darksong Knight. He didn't want her mentioning his role in Vhaeraun's death. Not with six Nightshadows at his back.

Karas cleared his throat. "I have indeed seen Crones rise as revenants. And as something more than revenants. I was in Maerimydra when it fell to the army of Kurgoth Hellspawn. In the aftermath of that battle, the traitors of House T'sarran seized control of the city in Kiaransalee's name. Among their ranks were spirits whose wailing scythed down dozens of mortals where they stood." He paused, then added grimly, "A small taste of what will await us at the Acropolis of Thanatos."

Once again, the hall filled with uneasy murmurs.

"We're prepared," Cavatina said confidently. She nodded at the halfling priestess.

The halfling-an odd-looking individual with copper-colored hair and skin stained black as a drow's-reached into her pouch and pulled out what resembled a ball of fired clay tufted with feathers. "Silence stones," she said in a voice that was surprisingly husky for such a small person. She patted a sling tucked into her belt in the place where a scabbard would normally hang, but her sword was strapped to her back.

Cavatina turned back to the group. "If others among you also have the ability to create magical silence, I suggest you review those spells before we leave. Next to the singing swords, they're our best defense."

Q'arlynd felt Eldrinn nudging his arm. He glanced at the boy and saw Eldrinn's quick question. You?

Q'arlynd shook his head slightly. You?

No.

Cavatina continued her briefing, warning them of the various forms of undead sure to populate the Acropolis. Q'arlynd listened attentively, eyes focused on the drift-disc map as he memorized all possible routes between the Moondeep and the Acropolis. Just in case.

"It's not just undead we have to watch out for," Karas added. "I grew up in the Deep Wastes and know its dangers." He held up a hand and counted off fingers. "Purple worms, delvers, umber hulks…" He glanced around. "If any of you feels the tiniest vibration, I want to hear about it."

"Thank you, Karas, for the warning," Cavatina said. She turned to the others. "Knowing what to avoid for in the Deep Wastes will be valuable."

"What to watch for, you mean," Karas interjected. "If a fresh tunnel's been bored we might be able to make use of it. Shorten the distance."

"No," Cavatina said firmly. "We stick to the route we've chosen. We don't want to wander into any dead ends and get trapped."

"How do we know the route you've chosen won't be a trap?" Karas protested. "If the Crones have found out about it-"

Cavatina's eyes smoldered. "They haven't."

Karas frowned. "How did you learn of this route?"

"Through our allies in the Deep Wastes."

Khorl cleared his throat. "What allies would those be, Lady?"

Cavatina seemed relieved to answer someone else's question. "The svirfneblin."

Q'arlynd's eyes widened in surprise. For a fleeting instant, he wondered if his former slave might have wound up in the Deep Wastes. It had been a long time since Q'arlynd had last seen Flinderspeld, and over the past year and a half, he'd often wondered how the deep gnome was faring. But Silverymoon was a long way from the Moondeep. More than five hundred leagues.

Karas's eyebrows rose. "Deep gnomes, helping drow?" He looked as if he wanted to laugh. "The svirfneblin hate us. They'll lead us into an ambush or hand us over to the Crones."

"No, they won't," Cavatina said. "The svirfneblin hate the Crones. And they don't hate all drow; they trust in Eilistraee's grace. They'll act as our guides on this expedition. They have already braved much to scout the way to the Acropolis. One of them drowned while tracing the route through the flooded cavern." Her eyes locked on Karas. "Please remember that sacrifice, and treat the svirfneblin with respect when we meet them."

Karas inclined his head. Slightly. "To each who contributes to our mission, I will give his fair due."

Judging by the expressions of the priestesses, Q'arlynd wasn't the only one to note the choice of gender.

Cavatina finished her briefing and asked for questions. There were several. Q'arlynd waited until most had been answered, lest he seem anxious. Then he cleared his throat and asked his question in an offhanded tone. "Lady, a question. Will our passage through the portal be a oneway trip?"

"No. Once we accomplish our mission, we'll use the portal to return. But bear in mind that it only functions between moonrise and moonset when the moon is magically 'reflected' on its surface."

Q'arlynd raised his hand again. "If we're unable to scry the surface, how will we know when the moon has risen?"

"The Moondeep is a magical sea," Cavatina answered. "When Selune shines on the Moonsea above, its reflection also illuminates the waters of the Moondeep. Hence the name. But you don't have to worry. The priestesses will open the portal." She looked around. "Any other questions?"

There were a handful.

The overall plan was in place. Once inside the cavern that housed the Acropolis, they would make their way across the lake to infiltrate the temple, some under cover of invisibility, others by rendering themselves ethereal. Still others would use illusion to disguise themselves as undead. . "Once we're on the island, we will slay as many of Kiaransalee's priestesses as possible," Cavatina reminded them. "But our goal is to find out what's augmenting the Faerzress. The moment any of you discovers anything you even think might be significant, report your findings to Qilue. Just speak her name, and she will hear you. She'll relay your findings to the rest of us and guide us from there."

She shifted her attention to the wizards. "You will, of course, be tempted to report to the masters of your respective colleges first. That's only natural. But remember this. Your masters do not control the Moonspring Portal. We do. With teleportation blocked, it's the only way drow can access an area close to the Acropolis. If our expedition runs into trouble, it will be the Promenade coming to our aid." She paused. "I realize that vows mean little in the cities where many of you were born, but I give you my solemn word on this. Anything that is reported to Qilue will be passed on to your masters immediately. We all have a stake in this. Cooperation is the key."

The priestesses around her nodded. Q'arlynd dutifully bobbed his head while noting Gilkriz's faintly skeptical look. He also noted the way the other Nightshadows drew closer to Karas, whose fingers made a quick gesture Q'arlynd couldn't read.

The priestesses broke into song again. Q'arlynd wished they'd just get going. Two days had passed since he met Miverra in Sshamath. In eight days more, perhaps less, divination magic would become impossible in Sshamath and the College of Divination would fall. And with it would go Q'arlynd's dreams of becoming one of Sshamath's masters.

For the time being, there was still a chance to stave off the looming crisis.

Assuming, he thought as he glanced around at the clearly visible factions, this group held together long enough.