The abduction

Chapter 4

The sanctuary glowed with the light of a thousand candles.

They stood ensconced along the limestone walls. They topped candle stands, lit aisles, and flickered in votive constellations at the feet of statued heroes. They bathed everything at the human level in suffused light, but left the heads of the statues, the vault above, and every other heavenly thing in darkness.

Benches of black walnut bent ever so slightly beneath the burden of nobles, guildmasters, ambassadors. The sanctuary was full, and only half the guests had been seated. The others would stand in the narthex, craning to hear and see.

Pipes, trumpets, and drums blasted out the bridal march. The ceremony had begun.

It was too late to stop the shapeshifters.

By the time Captain Rulathon had found Khelben in the wedding crowd and warned him that one or all of the bride's attendants were shapeshifters, Eidola was walking down the sanctuary aisle.

Khelben cast quick magics to win past the elaborate wards that masked the women.

"You are right. She is accompanied by eight monsters " said the Lord Mage of Waterdeep, incredulously watching the attendants sashay down the aisle.

The shapeshifters glided along beside the bride. None was more than a claw's length away from her, a breath away from their prey,

"What do we do?" Rulathon whispered. "Can't you flash them all away into sifting soot?"

Khelben grimaced. "No. They are too close to the bride, and the guests. Still, we might have a chance if…" His words fell to mutterings, Rulathon gazed intently at the mage's face.

"It's a long walk up the aisle, girls," Khelben thought aloud. "If I can't beat you, I may as well join you…'

He murmured something else and swept an arcane gesture down his torso. With a pop that was barely audible over the pipes and trumpets, the black-robed and greybearded mage was replaced by a slim ivory-garbed attendant.

The lass gave Rulathon a very Khelbenesque wink. She hurried forward, her stride somewhat more businesslike and determined than those of her comrades. She caught up to the smiling cluster and began her own smile.

It was a toothy grimace. Through it came a growled warning, magically sounding in the ears of the attendants:

Hello, shapeshifters. This is the Blackstaff speaking to you. Congratulations for living this long. Stay in your current forms and fall back behind the bride's train, and you will live longer, still. There was no sign that the creatures had heard him, except that their pace slackened. Eidola moved forward, out of arm's reach.

Unfortunately, thought Khelben, shapeshifters have a knack for growing things longer than arms.

Very good. Sisters, the Blackstaff hissed to them. You've no doubt felt the spell blades I've conjured within your bellies. As long as you make no sudden moves and stay in your current forms, those daggers probably won't cut anything vital.

The pace of the party slowed even more.

Khelben's smile deepened. Now, let's chat about who you are and what you are doing here. Piergeiron thinks you are malaugrym. I have a notion you are somewhat worse. Am I right?

Eight coiffured heads nodded on their lovely necks.

I thought so. And as to what that something is… let's repair to the crying room for a little talk…

Bagpipes shrieked their solemn songs, drummers cracked sticks against skins, corpulent and decadent nobles turned about in their seats to gawk at the spectacle of flower-decked maidens and flag bearers. The bride and her attendants glided down the aisle. Benches groaned when Waterdeep's powers-that-be rose on their own legs to nod benevolently…

Standing among them, Noph saw his father a few rows back. Laskar's sycophantic smile was worst of all. His teeth seemed to spell out the word blackmail.

Noph felt ill. He looked away from his erstwhile father, and also from the bride. Her secret past, whatever it was, made her white gown a travesty. Surely there was someplace in me sanctuary he could stare without getting sick.

The Eye of Ao. The ancient panel of stained glass hung high in the wall above the chancel. The huge eye was a splendid piece of craftsmanship, backlit by a loft of flickering candles. The eye was luminous, alive. Even its pupil glinted with capricious light.

Its pupil? The Eye of Ao was supposed to have an empty pupil. The hole symbolized the place of dark mysteries through which all mortals flew after death.

How could an empty space reflect light?

Then Noph saw: the triangular glint of light came from an arrowhead poised in the opening.

"Damn" Noph swore aloud.

The nobles around him turned and glared. Noph turned curse into a cough. The guests blinked and looked away. Noph continued coughing, sputtering, gagging. He pulled out a kerchief and tried unsuccessfully to contain the fit

"Excuse me," he muttered hoarsely, and pushed his way toward the side aisle.

Nobles happily let him pass, some shying from him as though he carried a plague. In moments, Noph was free. He hurried down the side aisle toward the nearest door. It led to a set of stairs going up.

Noph bolted up the stairs, hoping he could find his way to the Eye of Ao before Lady Eidola flew through it in death.

Piergeiron stood uneasily at the front of the sanctuary and watched his bride approach. She moved with constant, stately grace. The smile on her face seemed one part joy and one part wry discomfort. He wondered if she felt as troubled as he…

Something was very wrong here. Piergeiron could not dismiss the dizzy dread. It was almost unbearable. Worst of all, he could do nothing to combat it. He could only stand, smile distressedly, and hope-hope that whatever plots had been hatched would fail, or would not come into being until he and Eidola were lawfully wed.

Beyond Eidola, her attendants slowed and stopped. They curtseyed once, their bodies rigidly upright, and began to back slowly away.

Where were they going? They were supposed to accompany Eidola to the altar. Did they back away because of some terrible danger about to descend on her?

Piergeiron glanced up into the black vault, unseeable above his bride. Were those leathery wings? Was that a lashing tail? No he thought, only shadow play, only particles swimming in my eyes.

Piergeiron steadied himself and looked back down, all the while wondering what invisible monsters of fate hovered above them, ready to descend.

The martial cadence of the bagpipes slowed. Eidola took two final steps and stood beside him. The roar of trumpets and drums ceased and echoed away.

Bride and groom turned to face the podium that held Sandrew, the Savant of Oghma. He gestured for the people to be seated. As the muffled sound of creaking benches settled into silence, he spoke:

"Friends, we are here to witness a union that will mean joy and peace for all of us, but especially for this man and this woman."

I only hope he is right about that, thought Piergeiron. I could use a few lifetimes of peace just now…

Noph at last topped the ladder and gently lifted the trapdoor above him.

"found it," he whispered to himself.

Beyond the trapdoor was a small, candlelit loft. Its farwall was the stained-glass Eye of Ao. Countless candles lined the base of the Eye, and fire gleamed in its edges.

Through the huge pupil came the murmurous sound of Sandrew's homily on marriage.

On this side of the pupil, though, was a cocked crossbow poised on a wooden stand. Its quarrel was trained downward, pointing to the spot where Eidola and Piergeiron stood.

Noph almost flung wide the trapdoor and rushed in, but he noticed a string tied to the door. It was threaded through an eyelet in the floor and then rose up to the trigger of the crossbow. He eased the door downward an inch, and watched as the quivering line loosened. The trigger settled back in its place.

Clever. Whoever had placed this crossbow here had rigged it to go off if the trapdoor was opened. Cleverer, still, there was another string attached to the trigger. It was tied to a clockwork mechanism. As Noph watched, the string wound slowly around the clock spindle, and the trigger tightened.

"… The crossbow is already in place…"

So, even now, the lizard-woman is conspicuously sitting in the crowd, thought Noph, with a solid alibi for the moment when the quarrel flies and the lady or the lord is slain…

He had another minute at most-a minute to cut the first string, climb into the loft, and cut the second.

He reached for his dagger and pulled it forth-or tried to. The peace strings held the damned thing in place. He yanked harder, but he didn't have the strength of a Piergeiron to snap them. Groaning in frustration, Noph fiddled for a moment more, trying to untie the tangle.

Thirty seconds… The clockwork string tightened…

Noph reached up past the trapdoor, feeling for where the first line was attached. His hand followed the string to another eyelet that was screwed into the top of the door. A yank on the eyelet told him this knot was secure.

Nineteen seconds… Noph gingerly rolled his fingertips across the string, his nails slowly fraying the fibers apart.

Eight seconds… A grunt and a yank. The frayed string broke loose of the eyelet. Noph flung back the trapdoor. It boomed loudly, but he did not care.

Two seconds… The crossbow trigger drew back, trembling.

Noph lunged for the clockwork mechanism. A crooked nail in the floorboards caught his toe, and he fell. One second… The trigger clicked…

Noph snatched the base of the crossbow stand and wrenched it. The quarrel shot away. It pinged off the edge of Ao's pupil and darted down into the crowd. A woman's scream came up to him, followed by the shout of a man. Noph leapt to his feet and peered out the pupil. Below, an old dowager clutched a bleeding arm.

The bolt had missed Lady Eidola and Piergeiron. They were safe.

"The whole of Waterdeep will owe you a debt of gratitude.” Except that Waterdeep had confused the details…

Someone pointed up toward the Eye of Ao and shouted: "Assassin!"

Noph went white. As other faces turned toward him, he backed away into the dark chamber. He was no assassin.

He was the hero who stopped the murderers. Once the people saw the evidence… once they saw the stand and the strings and clockwork mechanism, they would understand the truth…

The cries of the congregation were interrupted by the I fuss of a line of smokepowder, lit by the candles beneath the eye.

Smokepowder?

Boom! Searing heat. Noph was thrown against a very hard wall. He groaned and crumpled amid orange flames. They died back as quickly as they had come. Bleeding, Noph struggled to smother the fire on his cape.

Numbly, he realized what had happened. The woman who had set up the crossbow had trapped it to explode once it had gone off, destroying the evidence other crime, destroying the evidence of Noph's innocence.

Crossbow, stand, and clockwork machine had been blasted apart. "Assassin! Assassin!" came the cries from below.