The Siege

CHAPTER TWELVE

21 Mirtul, the Year of Wild Magic

Vala hung motionless in the ceiling spider webs, watching in silence as Corineus spun around the sanctum below, slashing eyestalks from beholder heads and cratering illithid chests with bolts of golden magic, somersaulting under bugbears and diving over kobolds. All the while, he somehow kept himself between his enemies and the four spellbooks resting on a dusty oak table in the corner, amidst a pile of crowns, scepters, rings, bracers, and other magic relics recovered from the lairs of the phaerimm they had slain so far. The monster bodies were beginning to pile up, slowing the baelnorn's bladedance to the point that he began to take hits. It hardly mattered. Steel weapons only bounced off his white flesh, and he absorbed disintegration rays and mind blasts the way leaves drank sunlight. Even antimagic beams had no effect. The beholders casting them never lived long enough for their blade-wielding comrades to take advantage.

Finally, there were just too many bodies for Corineus to continue his bladedance. He stumbled spinning in for a kill, and two kobolds bounced across the carnage into the corner, each grabbing for one of the spellbooks on the desk. Though they were no more than twelve feet below Vala, close enough that she could smell their musky odor even over the charnel stench that filled the room, she continued to hang under the ceiling, her arms and legs aching from the strain of holding herself in such an unaccustomed position. This time, Corineus had told her to be a spider, to let the prey twist itself into their web before striking.

As Corineus struggled to regain his balance, a pair of bugbears leaped onto his back and bowled him over. He started to throw them off, and more started to squeeze through the doors one after the other, adding their weight to the heap. The pile continued to rise, but more slowly, then finally sank back toward the floor. The baelnorn’s muffled voice called out an incantation, and a brilliant spark flashed somewhere under the tangle of hairy limbs.

A sheet of silver lightning fanned across the room, momentarily blinding Vala. There was a single communal death-growl, then the room fell silent. The reek of scorched flesh pervaded her nostrils, and her chill-numbed flesh began to prickle as the baelnorn's cold aura suddenly vanished. She blinked the dazzle from her eyes to find the sanctum piled three layers deep in scorched body halves, many pouring smoke into the air and some still twitching.

Corineus was encased in a shimmering sphere of force, his withered face twisted into a mask of agony as he struggled to his feet. He was moving only slowly and with great effort, with his eyes bulging out of their sockets and lines of black blood running from his ears and nostrils. The sphere was contracting visibly, crushing the baelnorn in its inexorable grasp.

Vala remained where she was, all too conscious of the shiny red diamonds starting to peer at her from the corners of the web-strewn ceiling. The giant spiders had vanished through their hidden bolt holes the instant Corineus entered the sanctum, but with his chill aura gone, they were eager to return and reclaim their webs. Her goose bumps rose again, though this time they had nothing to do with being cold.

Finally, the object of her ambush appeared, the largest phaerimm yet, with amber scales and a tail-barb as long as the blade of her darksword. The creature paused a moment in the door, then floated over to the sphere in which Corineus was imprisoned and stopped. The baelnorn turned his head in its direction. His eyes were bulging so badly they were about to pop their sockets, and the black stuff running from his nose and ears had fanned across his entire lower face. The undead elf began to fumble through the gestures of an enchantment.

So clumsy were his efforts that even Vala knew the spell would never go off. The phaerimm simply floated there before him, and eventually Corineus stopped trying. The pair simply stood beside each other and did nothing. Vala was confused for the first several moments, until the baelnorn's gaze shifted to the captured spellbooks, and she recalled that phaerimm communicated with their captives telepathically. The thing was interrogating him, no doubt trying to learn how he had been slipping past the wards designed to keep him at bay.

Vala prayed to Tempus to give Corineus strength- then remembered herself and asked Corellon Larethian, the elf god of war, for the same thing. They had taken care to leave behind no trace of her presence in the lairs they had broken so far. If the baelnorn betrayed the secret, she would not survive long enough to realize their plan had failed.

A tremble in the web drew Vala's gaze to the opposite corner of the ceiling, where a wolf-sized spider was creeping out of its bolt hole. She fixed it in place with a glare but did not dare do more. Corineus had warned her not to move until the instant she attacked. Her only camouflage was spider silk and darkness; any magic that the baelnorn might have used to hide her would have drawn the phaerimm's attention as surely as a flame.

Emboldened by the first, a second spider crept out onto the web, this one only half a dozen yards from Vala's feet. She glanced toward the phaerimm, trying to gauge her chances of making the leap. Not good. The thornback was over by the main door with the baelnorn; she was in the opposite corner, above the spellbooks. Corineus had said the thing would not be able to resist such a treasure. So far, it seemed to be withstanding the temptation all too well.

A third spider crept onto the web, this one in the corner above Corineus, who was enduring long past the point when a living elf would have been crushed. His eyes were hanging out of their sockets, flattened against his cheeks, while his arms and legs were bent at impossible angles and pressed back against his body. Vala wanted to yell at the baelnorn to give up and let himself be destroyed already, but she didn't even know if that was possible. Besides, he had to make it look real. If he gave up too easily, his tormentor would grow suspicious-and few things were more dangerous than a suspicious phaerimm.

The web began to tremble violently as the first spider darted for Vala, fangs dripping venom and pedipalps reaching out. The second made a dash for her legs but stopped to face the other one when it changed its direction.

Vala started to throw her sword in desperation-then had a better idea and looked back to the spiders. She ran her blade through the spider web, cutting a huge crescent around the bottom of her feet. The web came free with a series of brittle pops, and she swung down from the ceiling, descending toward her target in a swift-moving arc. The phaerimm swung its huge mouth toward her.

Vala leaped straight at it, whipping the darksword around for a vicious, two-handed down strike. She heard scales cracking and felt the blade splitting flesh. A pair of phaerimm hands caught her by the throat and began to squeeze. She turned the blade and began to drag it through the thing's body. The barbed tail arced up, clanked off her backplate, and drew back to try again.

Vala knocked a phaerimm hand from her throat-only to have it replaced by two more. Her vision began to fade, and her right leg erupted into fiery pain as the tail barb penetrated her armor and began to pump its poison into her body. She pried her darksword free, swinging the blade up through two feet of tendon and flesh. Her vision darkened to something darker than black, and Vala's stomach suddenly rose into her chest. A bitter chill stung her flesh, and there was an endless eternity of falling. She grew queasy and weak and heard nothing but the pounding of her own heart, slowing with each beat, then even that was gone.

Vala's first hint that she was not… well, gone, was the reek of battle gore. The second was pain. Something was lodged in her leg, holding up her whole body by the big thigh muscle and flicking across the bone. She thought for a moment that she was dead and in the Nine Hells with no memory of how she had come to be there. Then she saw a huge, amber-colored phaerimm lying flayed and motionless on the floor above her-no, below-and recalled the fight in the sanctum.

Vala was not in the sanctum. Instead of the four captured spellbooks and great heap of recovered magic she and Corineus had piled in the corner, there was a single open book floating in a green spell field and several shelves of neatly arranged relics. There were the mind-slaves' sleeping palettes lined up along the wall, and the ward symbol above the door that kept her baelnorn ally at bay. Most of all, there was the thornback itself, lying motionless and gutted on the floor beneath her, its long tail preventing her from floating to the ceiling by the painful barb lodged in her thigh.

After Vala's attack, the thing had attempted to teleport to the safety of its lair and arrived dead. At least she thought it was dead. She brought her arm down to cut herself free-or, rather, tried to bring her arm down. It didn't move in response to her will, nor did her legs or neck when she tested them-or even her tongue, when she attempted to curse.

Eventually, Vala knew, the crushing sphere would destroy Corineus's body and free his spirit to seek one of the spare bodies he had hidden in the Irithlium-but that was not going to help her. Until she broke the warding symbol above the door, the baelnorn could not enter the lair. There was nothing to do but hang there in pain until the poison wore off. ‹S› — O- ©- •©••© The Shadovar were not conspicuous in Arabel-or rather in what had been Arabel before the ghazneths and their ore hordes reduced it to rubble-but they were there. On the dark side of a broken tower, a pair of swarthy masons were using a shadow saw to size blocks. Through the window of a bakery, a potter with gleaming amethyst eyes was fashioning an oven from darkclay. In an alley, a tall and gaunt carpenter was installing an ebon-wood door.

None of them more than glanced in Galaeron's direction as he passed by with Aris and Ruha, but that meant nothing. With an elf, a Bedine witch, and a stone giant traveling together, the Shadovar had to know who they were looking at.

Aris stooped down to within three feet of Galaeron and Ruha. Though the giant had spent much of the past two days sipping Storm Silverhand's healing potions, he remained unsteady enough that Galaeron would rather he wasn't leaning over them.

"This is going to be harder than we thought," Aris said quietly. "I keep seeing Shadovar." Galaeron nodded. "Sent to watch for us."

"So many?" Ruha shook her head. "The Shadovar have easier ways of watching than rebuilding a whole city."

"What do you know?" Galaeron snapped. "With the information I have about the phaerimm, the Shadovar would do anything to get me back." "I am sure they would," Ruha said patiently.

She pointed at the base of a nearly rebuilt tower, where the foundation had been patched with the same dark amalgam that served as mortar in Shade Enclave. "They have been here for some time," the witch continued. "Their purpose here is to make an ally of Cormyr, not find us."

Galaeron considered first the foundation, then the rest of the broad street, and had to nod. While the city still looked like a rubble heap at first glance, the outlines of its former shape were beginning to re-emerge. Many of the larger buildings were already rising to the second or third story, and most showed signs of Shadovar work- if not in the mortar then in the precision fit of the stones and the dark wood of the balconies, or even in the depth of the shadowed window alcoves.

"You're right, of course," Galaeron said, transferring his ire from Ruha to Storm Silverhand. "Even the Shadovar couldn't do this overnight-and Storm had to know it when she teleported us here." "Most likely," Ruha admitted.

"So why send us?" Galaeron demanded. "It would have made more sense to teleport us to Waterdeep and come to Cormyr herself."

"Perhaps you have answered your own question," Ruha said. "That is what the Shadovar would expect Or matters in Waterdeep may be more complicated than we know. I am given to understand that Storm's sister Laeral is friendly with the Shadovar." "Say no more," Galaeron grumbled.

Storm's reaction to him in Anauroch had convinced him how unlikely he was to persuade any of the Chosen of anything. For loosing the phaerimm on the world, they might have forgiven him eventually, but for bringing the Shadovar into the world after them, and getting Elminster banished to the Nine Hells-never.

"We're better off taking our chances with the Cormyreans," Galaeron admitted.

"Then you accept that Storm did the wisest thing?" Ruha asked.

Galaeron shrugged. "How can I know? But she has to have a better hope in Waterdeep than I do. Lord Piergeiron certainly isn't going to take my word over Laeral's."

An approving twinkle came to Ruha's eyes. "You may survive this yet. I think you are finally learning to control your shadow self." She glanced over at a pair of Shadovar stone cutters who had stopped work to watch them pass, then added, "But perhaps we would draw less attention if we disguised ourselves and found a safe place to leave Aris."

"At this point, speed is better than stealth," Galaeron said. "The sooner we present ourselves at the palace, the more difficult it will be for Telamont Tanthul to have a troop of his lords spirit us back to the enclave."

"Well said," Aris agreed, glancing out over the half-built city. "Besides, there isn't a place to hide a stone giant within twenty miles of here."

It was no exaggeration. Though Storm had teleported them into a field only a quarter mile outside Arabel, the walk to the gates had been plenty long enough to bear witness to the devastation wrought by the dragon Nalavarauthatoryl and her ghazneths and ores. Even a year after the terrible war, nothing grew in the once-lush fields except a few black thistles and carpets of foul-smelling moss, while the great forest that had once flourished to the south and west of the city was still struggling to put the first spindly leaves in its canopy.

Despite their presence in Arabel, the Shadovar were not helping matters. With the melting of the High Ice carrying so much rain and cool air west toward Water-deep, a steady wind had been blowing northward through Cormyr, carrying with it the heat of the southlands and the mugginess of the Dragonmere. Had the zephyr but dropped a fraction of its moisture on its way over the kingdom, the change of weather might actually have helped matters. Instead, the air remained miserly with its water until it crashed into the northern Stormhorns and abruptly cooled. As a result, the kingdom was enduring its worst, hottest, most miserable drought in a thousand years, while at the same time its two largest rivers, the Starwater and the Wyvernflow, were flooding their banks and washing away whole villages.

Galaeron was far from certain that he would be able to secure an audience with the rulers of the kingdom, much less persuade the Cormyreans that Shade Enclave was causing their problems. But, as Storm had said, they would be eager for an explanation and inclined to listen. All he had to do was get the shadow blanket into Vangerdahast's hands. After that, the royal wizard would convince himself.

They reached the city palace, which-to Galaeron's great disappointment-had been rebuilt from the second story in the same pearly stone as Villa Dusari. Atop the highest spires, dozens of Shadovar polishers were crawling over the turrets like spiders, putting the final touches on the magnificent building. Fortunately, the guards at the door still wore Cormyr's purple dragon, or Galaeron would have concluded that the Shadovar had claimed Arabel for their own and left immediately.

As the trio ascended the steps, two of the guards crossed their halberds in front of the entrance. The sergeant-no older than his comrades, but with a badly scarred face and an eye patch-stepped forward to address them.

"You have business with Lord Myrmeen?" he demanded.

Galaeron shook his head. "Our business is with Princess Alusair and her wizard," he said. "It concerns the abnormal weather Cormyr has been suffering of late."

The sergeant seemed not to hear the last part of his explanation. "This is the palace of Myrmeen Lhal," he said. "The Steel Regent keeps her home-and her wizard-in Suzail."

Alarm bells started clanging inside Galaeron's mind. "You are saying Arabel is no longer part of Cormyr?"

The sergeant's one eye narrowed. "What I'm saying is that unless you have business with Myrmeen Lhal-"

"We have it on good authority that Princess Alusair and Vangerdahast are inside," Ruha interrupted. She removed the Harper's pin from inside her robe and pressed it into his hand. "Please deliver that to her with the message that our lives may depend on a swift audience-and perhaps the fate of Cormyr's growing season, as well."

"Harpers?" The sergeant barely glanced at the pin. "Why didn't you say so?"

He turned and vanished into the palace, then returned a moment later with a gangly, horse-faced man in a scarlet cape and purple sash of office. The newcomer returned Ruha's pin and waved them into the palace's grandiose reception hall-so large that, after crawling through the entrance, even Aris could stand upright.

"Welcome. I am Dauneth Marliir, Her Majesty's High Warden," the man said. "I'm sorry for the delay, but we have learned to be cautious with information about Her Majesty."

"We understand," Ruha said, returning the pin to its place. "I am Ruha-" "Yes, I know." Dauneth flashed a big smile.

Galaeron ignored him and looked down the long arcade of pillars, where he was disappointed to see more Shadovar than humans polishing and buffing.

Dauneth continued to speak with Ruha. "There are not many Bedine witches in the Harpers."

"Only one, I am certain," Ruha laughed. She waved a hand at Galaeron. "This is Galaeron Nihmedu."

Dauneth's brow rose in shock, but he managed to recover himself. "Well met, Galaeron. I have heard of your bravery." He extended a hand and clasped Galaeron's wrist in the human fashion. "Prince Rivalen tells me that his father has been most concerned since your disappearance."

"Yes, I'm sure he has," Galaeron replied, surprised by the coldness in his own voice. "He has good reason to be."

Dauneth's brow rose, prompting Ruha to say, "It is related to our visit" She half turned to wave at Aris. "And this is-"

"Aris of a Thousand Faces," Dauneth finished. He paused and bowed deeply. "When the palace is finished, Myrmeen intends to display one of your pieces, The Descent of the Shadow Army,' here in the lobby."

"She does?" The giant's jaw dropped. "How did she come by it?"

Dauneth smiled enthusiastically. "A gift from Prince Rivalen, of course."

The High Warden led the way down a stately side corridor toward a pair of well-guarded double doors, and Galaeron's heart fell. He could see already that Rivalen and his gifts had won the hearts of the Cormyreans, that he had no chance whatsoever of winning Alusair's confidence. Soon, he would either be dead or on his way back to the enclave, and after seeing how close his shadow self had come to getting Aris killed, he knew which he was going to choose. He wanted nothing more than to use his shadow magic to do a sending to Vala and apologize for how he had parted, to let her know that, in the end at least, he had come to his senses and died thinking of her.

And he would have liked to apologize to Takari Moon-snow, as well, for refusing what she had offered. He had always known on some deep level that they were spirit mates and, because of that, assumed she would always be with him, but when he had chosen to help Vala instead of her in the final battle against Wulgreth, he had wounded her more deeply than any lich could have. He knew there could be nothing between them but pain. For the rest of her life, whenever she thought of him, it would fill her with feelings of betrayal and loss.

How could he have been such a coward? Perhaps there had always been a shadow on his heart because of his fear of following it-because in trying to avoid his own pain, he had inflicted it on others. Certainly his father had never turned his back on his feelings. He had loved Morgwais completely from the moment he had met her, all the years they had lived together in Evereska and all the years she had lived apart in the High Forest, and if her absence had caused him anguish, their love had given him the strength to endure it without bitterness or regret.

They reached the double doors and were admitted at once. Aris had to hunch his shoulders to squeeze through this entrance, but inside lay the palace's formal audience hall, with an arched ceiling high enough that the giant could still stand upright by walking down the center of the aisle.

In a raised throne at the far end sat a striking woman with oak-brown eyes and amber hair, one arm resting on her knee as she conversed with a huge Shadovar beside her. Even had Galaeron not glimpsed the man's golden eyes and ceremonial fangs, he would have recognized Prince Rivalen by his immense shoulders and narrow waist. Next to the throne and a little behind it stood an elderly, tired-looking man in a voluminous robe and long white beard who could only be Cormyr's royal wizard, Vangerdahast. Adjacent to him stood the final member of the little group, a statuesque woman with dark hair and eyes as blue as a mountain lake. Dauneth stopped opposite the throne and presented Galaeron and his companions, introducing the woman on the throne as the Steel Regent of Cormyr, Princess Alusair Obarskyr, and the one on the floor as Myrmeen Lhal, the King's Lord of Arabel.

When she was introduced to Aris, Myrmeen's eyes sparkled, showing flecks of gold almost like an elf's.

"I'm a great enthusiast of your work, Master Aris." She gestured to Rivalen, who was studying the group with a forced smile and said, "The prince has gifted me with The Descent of the Shadow Army'. I intend to display it prominently in the lobby."

"It will be an honor," Aris said with a certain practiced ease. "I only hope it will do your palace justice."

"It will make my palace," she said. "The way you impart a sense of the army's whirling descent while using the veserab wings to support the enclave is pure magic. But I find a hint of menace in how the riders fan out at the bottom, as though you found the coming of the Shadovar just a little frightening."

"You are very perceptive, Milady." Aris glanced in Rivalen's direction, then added, "Were I to do the same sculpture today, there would be more than a hint of menace."

"Really?" Myrmeen furrowed her brow. "I was under the impression you were quite content in the city of Shade."

"So were we," Rivalen said smoothly, "but we understand how temperamental artists can be. If Aris was unhappy, we would have been glad to transport him to any place he wished. There was no need for him to brave the desert with these thieves."

"We are not the thieves in this room," Galaeron began. "The Shadovar-"

"Myrmeen did not ask you to speak," Princess Alusair said, raising a hand to cut him off. She moved to the edge of her seat and addressed Rivalen. "So what'd they steal?"

Vangerdahast laid a restraining hand on her shoulder. "Princess, this matter really has nothing to do with Cormyr."

Alusair scowled. "They're in Cormyr now, Vangey." Her glance strayed in Myrmeen Lhal's direction ever so briefly, then looked back to Prince Rivalen. "At least I think it's still Cormyr."

"Shade would not recognize any other claims to Arabel," Rivalen said, not rising to the bait, "and we would certainly be very grateful if you would return these thieves to Shade Enclave for judgment by the Most High."

Alusair continued to watch the prince, and Galaeron began to see that there was more going on in Arabel than the rebuilding of the city-or at least the Steel Regent feared there was.

"Must I ask again, Prince?" Alusair said. "What did they steal?"

Rivalen hesitated just a moment, then gestured at the shadow blanket draped over Aris's shoulder. "The umbral mantle, to begin with. Also a flying disk and a veserab… that I know of." Alusair looked to Ruha. "Is that true?" "In its essence," she said. "I was not-"

"In its fact," Rivalen insisted. "You were all part of the plan from the start. Malik confessed all."

"Malik?" Alusair asked. "Would this be Malik el Sami yn Nasser, the Seraph of Lies?"

Rivalen nodded. "A despicable little man, but it is well known that Mystra's curse prevents him from lying." He looked in Galaeron's direction and sneered. "He was with Galaeron when we rescued his party from the Dire Wood. We should have taken that as a suggestion of what to expect when we realized who he was."

"Indeed," Vangerdahast said. "I am surprised you didn't. Malik was captured in the escape?"

"It was not an escape," Rivalen clarified. "Until they began stealing, they were free to leave at any time." "Princess Alusair," Ruha said, "if you will permit me-"

"I will not," Alusair said, raising a hand to silence the witch. "The prince is speaking."

Ruha's face fell, and Galaeron could tell that she was feeling as hopeless as he had earlier. He caught her eye and smiled in encouragement. It was impossible to see how she responded beneath her veil.

When Rivalen did not continue, Alusair asked, "Do you have anything to add, Prince? Perhaps they murdered someone in the escape?"

Rivalen considered this a moment, then shook his head, "There were some injuries-but only to Malik, and he survived. Their only crime in Shade Enclave was theft. The Most High will be grateful when they are returned to answer for it."

"Of course," Alusair said. She turned to Ruha. "Have you anything to say before I return you to the prince?"

"Only that it is a mistake to do so in such haste." Ruha looked to Myrmeen Lhal for support-then let her shoulders slump as the lady lord looked away. Turning her gaze back to Alusair, she began, "On my word as a Harper "If I may," Galaeron interrupted. Even in Evereska, he had seen enough of politics to realize that truth was seldom the most valued currency in such discussions. Addressing himself directly to Alusair, he said, "The gifts of the Shadovar come with a price-'

"Every gift comes with a price," Alusair shot back. "If you mean to waste the crown's time on such tripe, I'll have your tongue before I return you to Rivalen."

Galaeron's confidence of a moment earlier vanished. He had read the situation correctly-he was more sure of that than ever-but he had failed to anticipate just how astute the Steel Regent really was and how quick to anger when she thought she was being manipulated. He swallowed and tried again.

"The price of this gift is higher than you think." Galaeron sneaked a glance at Rivalen, who caught him looking and made a derisive motion for him to continue. He did. "The droughts and floods Cormyr has been suffering, they are the Shadovar's doing."

Myrmeen and Dauneth sighed audibly, and Vangerdahast looked as though he were struggling not to laugh.

Alusair turned her gaze to Prince Rivalen. "Well, Prince, what say you to that?"

Rivalen rolled his golden eyes. "I wouldn't think it necessary to say anything."

"It is true," Galaeron insisted. "Surely, you've heard about the troubles on the Sword Coast? The Shadovar are melting the High Ice. It's affecting the weather all across Faerыn."

"Melting the High Ice?" Vangerdahast scoffed. "The fire spell that powerful hasn't been written, even in Azuth's spellbook."

"They're not using a spell-they're using that" Galaeron pointed to the shadow blanket hanging over Aris's shoulder. "They're spreading them over "Princess Alusair," Rivalen interrupted. "It pains me to see this thief wasting the crown's time with this nonsense, lf you will allow me to summon a few of my lords-"

"Only a minute longer," Alusair said, raising her brow at the note of concern that had crept into the prince's voice. "Cormyr's law requires that the accused be allowed to speak before I can turn them over to you."

The princess nodded Vangerdahast toward the blanket, and Galaeron breathed a quiet sigh of relief as the old man shuffled out from behind her. Aris spread the blanket obligingly and draped it down where Vangerdahast could reach it, turning the darkest side toward the window so that it would absorb the sun's heat. The wizard rubbed his hand first over one side of the surface, then the other, and the way his eyes widened made clear that he had noted how efficiently it trapped heat.

Galaeron glanced over at Rivalen and found the prince's golden eyes locked on his face. In that moment, he knew that he had succeeded-and the prince knew it, too. Were it not for the knowledge Melegaunt had secreted inside his head, Galaeron had no doubt that Rivalen would have killed him on the spot and fled into the shadows. As it was, however, the prince had no choice but to play the game a little longer.

After a time, Vangerdahast removed a wand from inside his robe and waved it over the shadow blanket, then put it back and repeated the process three more times. Finally, he stepped away, folded his hands behind his back, and said nothing. A full minute passed before Alusair growled, "Well?"

Vangerdahast jumped as though she had startled him out of a dream, looking around with an alarming expression of confusion on his face. "Well, what?" the royal magician asked.

Alusair nodded at the shadow blanket. "The umbral mantle," she prompted. "Can it do what the elf claims?"

Vangerdahast turned and studied the blanket as though seeing it for the first time, then shrugged and turned away. "How should I know? I don't understand shadow magic."

The only thing that fell farther than Alusair's expression was Galaeron's heart.

"What's there to understand?" Galaeron cried, stepping toward the throne. "Just put your hand-"

"That's far enough, elf," Dauneth Marliir said, catching Galaeron by the arm and pressing a dagger tip to his ribs. "You've had your say."

Rivalen flashed his fangs in Galaeron's direction, then turned to Alusair. "If they have had their say, Princess, I will summon my lords."

Alusair lifted her hand in consent-until Vangerdahast gave a short, "Ahem."

Finally unable to contain himself, Rivalen spun toward the wizard. "What now?"

Vangerdahast gave him a synthetic smile. "Nothing to upset yourself over-a mere formality, really," he said, turning to Alusair, "but the law requires due regard for anyone seeking judgment before the crown." Alusair frowned in confusion. "And?"

"This is not due regard," the wizard explained. "For that, you must consider the matter overnight."

"She must?" Myrmeen asked, puzzled. "Where does it say that?"

"In the Rule of Law, of course," Alusair said, somehow at once smiling at Vangerdahast and frowning at Myrmeen. "Do you mean to tell me one of the King's Lords doesn't know her Iltharl?"

Myrmeen's face fell. "No, er, of course not," she stammered, frowning. "I, uh, just hadn't considered that the, uh, passage applied to this situation."

"Well, it does," Alusair said. She turned to Rivalen. "I'm sorry, Prince Rivalen, but you'll have to wait until morning. You understand-laws can be such pesky things."

"Yes, can't they?" Rivalen smiled thinly and inclined his head. "I trust you have secure facilities."

"Oh, very secure." Alusair looked to her High Warden and said, "Dauneth, see to it that these prisoners are lodged in the citadel-and put them in the deep dungeon. When Prince Rivalen comes for them in the morning, I want them to be there."