The Siege

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

21 Mirtul, the Year of Wild Magic

Flapping the warding symbol off the wall as she left, Vala ducked out of the tiny lair and scuttled down the ancient sewer in a low crouch. A knot the size of a fist was throbbing atop her thigh, and the wound itself oozed a steady stream of hot fluid. Fortunately, the cause of Vala's injuries had died without depositing its egg. She found the thing in the phaerimm's tail when she cut off the barb to add to her collection. After the levitation magic had finally lapsed, she'd fallen onto the dead creature and had to wait for the paralyzation poison to wear off. If the egg had been implanted, she would still have been lying atop the dead phaerimm with her face buried in its entrails.

As it was, Vala was so feverish that catching up to her quarry was out of the question. It required all of her strength just to limp down the tunnel in such an awkward stoop and avoid splashing her bandage with the cloudy fluid standing stagnant in the bottom. Though the sewer had not been used for its intended purpose in six centuries, the filth that filled it had been spawned of constant death and decay and reeked even more horribly than the offal it had been intended to carry. She came to a T in the passage and, ten paces up the right branch, glimpsed a short length of thorny tail disappearing around another corner.

Vala stepped into the mouth of the opposite fork and brushed her shoulder and arm against the filthy wall, leaving a broad drag mark in the mildew, then retreated back to the intersection and pressed her back to the wall. Having predicted the little phaerimm would flee to the right, Corineus was waiting a hundred paces up the tunnel, ready to drive the thing back toward its lair. Vala would have preferred to force the thornback into the baelnorn's ambush, but his aura of cold made it impossible for him to surprise anything in the dungeon.

The crack and rumble of an approaching spell battle heralded the return of the phaerimm. Vala kissed the blade of her darksword and said a prayer for her son in case Tempus should decide to take her in this rank place, then held her weapon ready next to the intersection. A few moments later, a brilliant orange light erupted from the tunnel mouth, blinding Vala and scalding her skin. She turned away, raising her free hand to shield her face as a crackling ball of flame hissed past and vanished down the opposite passage.

Vala opened her eyes and saw only circles of popping orange. The phaerimm could have been three inches from her face preparing to sink its tail barb into her throat, or it could have been lurking ten feet up the passage, waiting to see what its spell flushed out. Guessing the phaerimm would be a little behind its spell, she counted three seconds, brought her sword down, and hit something solid.

A fierce wind gusted through the sewer and died almost instantly. When Vala's sword fell free and touched the floor and she found herself still alive she deduced that she had at least hit the thing and began to slash about the intersection at random, weaving her blade through a blind figure-eight defense and trying to blink the orange spots from her eyes.

"You killed the phaerimm," Corineus said from up the passage. "Are you trying to kill its ghost as well, or do you have no further use for me now that we have destroyed the last phaerimm?"

"It's dead?" Vala stopped weaving but did not return her sword to its scabbard. Phaerimm were tricky creatures, and even if the Shadovar helmet protected her from its mind control, it would be an easy matter for it to use its magic to impersonate the baelnorn. "You're sure?"

"I am sure." An icy hand grabbed hers and guided the darksword back toward its scabbard. "Put that away. I have something I want to give you."

Vala sheathed the weapon, certain of the baelnorn's identity. She had grown so accustomed to his chill aura that she'd scarcely noticed it until he'd taken her hand.

"You'll have to tell me what it is," she said. "I'm afraid my eyes are still a bit dazzled from that fireball." "It is a treasure from Myth Drannor."

Corineus slipped a ring onto her finger, and she could see him-not the withered baelnorn she had come to know during her trials in the Irithlium, but a tall sun elf with gold-flecked eyes and a long mane of silky red hair.

"When you wear it this way," the elf said, "you will see things as they truly are."

He turned the ring a quarter turn, and Vala's vision returned to normal-which was to say that she couldn't see a thing, since her hand was not on her darksword.

"When you wear it this way, no one will know you are wearing it." He turned it another quarter turn. "And when you wear it this way, no one will see you."

Corineus started to remove his icy hand, but Vala caught it between hers.

"You know I killed the phaerimm for my own reasons," she said. "It's not necessary to gift me."

"I think it is, Vala Thorsdotter." Corineus freed his hands from hers and stepped away. "I have seen a little of the future while we were together."

The chill aura began to fade rapidly. Vala turned the ring and saw the dead phaerimm floating in the water in two pieces, neither as long as her arm. She nudged them aside and peered down the tunnel from which it had come, where Corineus's noble figure was wading into the darkness.

"Thank you, Corineus," she called after him, "and not only for the ring."

Corineus turned his head around on his shoulders and gave her a broad grin that reminded her of Galaeron’s joyful smile-back when he had one.

"Thank you, Vala Thorsdotter," he said, "and not only for killing the phaerimm."

As dungeons went, the one beneath the Citadel at Arabel was kinder than most-certainly kinder than the cramped cells of the Evereskan Tomb Guard, where crypt breakers were forced to kneel with their arms locked in stocks and gags in their mouths. Here, Galaeron and Ruha sat in side by side cages, with Aris chained to a wall in the interrogation chamber outside. There were no rats and only the typical human infestations of fleas and lice. Save for the acrid stench of the impure oil used in the wall lamps, the place didn't even smell that bad.

But it was secure. Aris had been scratching at the mortar around his chain mountings for half the night and done nothing more than bloody his fingertips. Ruha had tried half a dozen spells, only to have the magic sputter away as soon as it left her hands. Galaeron had kicked at the latch of his door until an ominous rumble sounded from above and he looked up to realize that the cell ceiling was a set of interlocked drop-blocks, with the keystone supported by the same jamb he was kicking. Fearful that ill-considered attempts might cost his life, he had given up trying to escape the cell at all.

Galaeron pressed his face to the bars and strained to see if there was anyone in the guard station, which was positioned at the end of the row of cages where it was almost impossible to see from inside a cell. He could see flamelight dancing on the walls, but no shadows that suggested someone upright and moving.

"No one there," Aris hissed, his whisper as loud as wind in trees. "The last check was about an hour ago."

"Confident in their dungeon craft, aren't these Cormyreans?" Galaeron said.

"They have every reason to be," Ruha said, speaking from the corner of her cell. "I don't hear you kicking any more, and the spell-guard has defeated everything I've tried."

"Then we really don't have any choice, do we?" Galaeron stepped back from the door and, hoping the guards had missed a few strands of shadowsilk when they searched him, began to fish through his cloak pockets. "I can get us out of here." Aris's eyes grew round and alarmed. "How?"

"Their spell-guard won't stop shadow magic," he said, "and since it didn't occur to Rivalen to erect his own-"

"Galaeron, no," Ruha said. "It is too risky for you to cast another shadow spell."

"What's too risky is waiting here for Rivalen." He found a strand of shadowsilk and began to tie it into a closed loop. "I'll have us out of here with one spell."

"And then what?" Aris demanded. "Wait until we are counting on you again, then let your shadow get us ail killed?"

Galaeron stopped tying and looked across the chamber. "I'm sorry about the Saiyaddar, Aris, I truly am. Had I let you drop the shadow blanket, you wouldn't have been so eager to reach water-"

"And you would have had nothing to show Storm," Aris interrupted. "It is not what you did, my friend, but why. When your shadow self takes control, you lose sight of what is right and think only of vengeance."

"I'm entitled," Galaeron said, growing irritated with the giant's lecturing. "Telamont was trying to bring out my shadow, and Escanor… well, never mind Escanor."

"You were going to say that Escanor stole Vala," Aris said, "but you know that isn't so. You know you drove her away."

"You're right," Galaeron replied, "but I can see that now. I'm in control."

Despite the admission, Galaeron began to knot the shadowsilk again. Aris exchanged concerned gazes with Ruha, and the witch pushed a hand through the bars to grab Galaeron's arm.

'You're not in control now, Galaeron," Ruha said. "Your shadow is trying to tempt you into another mistake."

She slipped her hand down to his and tried, gently, to pluck the shadowsilk from his fingers. He held tight.

"Storm will send help," Ruha said. "I have told her of our troubles."

Galaeron started to demand how she could get a message past the spell-guard but answered his own question when he recalled that the guard was fashioned of Weave magic. Because Storm was one of the Chosen, Ruha merely had to speak her name, and the Weave would carry the next few words directly to her ear-no spells required. What it would not do, however, was carry a reply.

"You know she is coming?" Galaeron asked. "You know that for certain?"

Ruha's eyes remained locked with his. "No, but it is wiser to trust in her than to believe you can control your shadow when it is so plainly controlling you. At the moment, I would rather place my life in Malik's hands."

The witch's frank words were enough to remind Galaeron of his remorse after Aris was wounded and to make him see that he was only using their situation as an excuse to cast a spell and feel cool shadow magic rushing through his body. It was an almost physical sensation, like being thirsty and longing for water or being exhausted and yearning for sleep, and it was just as hard to deny. The Shadow Weave was always there, within easy reach, inviting him to reach out and touch it.

Galaeron released the strand of shadowsilk, then watched as Ruha rolled it into a tiny ball and flicked it toward a lamp flame. She missed, but the wad bounced off the wall, then landed in the murk and was lost.

"You know what will happen if Rivalen takes me back to Shade?" Galaeron asked, talking to both Ruha and Aris. "I won't be able to stop Telamont from bringing out my shadow. It would be better to get us out of here and let it happen now, where you two can still do something about it."

"Only a fool would think us capable," Aris said. "Your shadow is still tempting you, Galaeron. If you yield to it- even for a minute-we are lost."

"Trust in Storm," Ruha urged. "I do, and I will die first if we are returned to the enclave."

That much was true, Galaeron knew. Aris's talent would probably buy his life, at least if he could find it in himself to continue sculpting. Galaeron himself would be kept alive and corrupted and might eventually find a way to overcome his shadow, but Ruha had nothing to offer the Shadovar except trouble. The interrogation that followed the trio's return would reveal that she was an agent of the Chosen-if Telamont didn't know it already-and Galaeron didn't even want to contemplate the fate that awaited spies in Shade Enclave.

Galaeron nodded and said, "Very well." He stepped away from the bars, and sat on the stone bench that served as his cot. "If you are willing to trust in Storm to save us, then I ought to be, too."

"But are you?" demanded Aris. "You must promise not to use shadow magic again, even if it means our deaths." Galaeron shook his head. "I can only promise to try."

"That is no promise at all," Ruha retorted. "Trying is easy. Doing is hard."

Galaeron looked away. He had already broken that promise once, so he knew how difficult it would be to keep-even harder than the last time, perhaps impossible- but Ruha was right. Trying was easy, and doing the easy thing had been leading him deeper into disaster from the beginning. He had breached the Sharn Wall and released the phaerimm when he ordered his patrol to attack with magic bolts instead of swords. He had allowed his shadow to sneak inside him when he ignored

Melegaunt's warning and used more shadow magic than he had the strength to control. He had loosed the Shadovar on Faerыn when he brought their flying city into the world to save Evereska from the phaerimm. He had lost Vala when he had been foolish enough to believe that Telamont Tanthul would teach him to control his shadow self. And he had nearly lost his closest friend in pursuit of an easy vengeance. The time had come to start doing the hard thing.

Galaeron looked across the interrogation chamber and said, "You're right. On my word as a Tomb Guard, I promise never to use shadow magic again."

Aris gave a curt nod. "Good, then you have already defeated the Shadovar."

"The defeat is in the keeping," Ruha said, "but it is a start."

She returned to her own bench, and they fell into silence again. Aris went back to tugging at his chains and scratching at the mortar around the mountings. Ruha and Galaeron tried to think of some way to escape that didn't involve using shadow magic. A little later, two night sentries came in and sat down at the table at the guard station. Constant companions through this night and no doubt many others, they exchanged a few stale words in a half-hearted attempt to stay awake, then fell to snoring within a few moments of each other. Galaeron was not surprised. Boredom was ever the watchman's curse and one that would be especially potent in a dungeon where escape seemed such a remote possibility.

A quarter hour later, the snoring came to a gurgled end. A pair of armored bodies clanged to the floor, and Aris's eyes grew wide. Galaeron pressed himself to the bars and looked toward the guard station. The sentries lay with their feet in view, surrounded by a circle of murk that might have been blood or shadow-without dark-sight, it was impossible to tell which. Rivalen and half a dozen Shadovar lords were stepping out of the shadows behind them.

Galaeron's throat went dry. The moment had come sooner than expected, but he knew that his temptation would have been the same in the morning-or anytime. His body was fairly aching for him to cast a spell. He felt feverish and hollow and thirsty for the cool sensation of the Shadow Weave, but even aside from his promise, it was too late for that. He could never hope to best Rivalen in a duel of magic. Still, when their eyes met, Galaeron maintained a calm composure and gave a nonchalant tip of his head. "Rather early, aren't we?" the elf said. "I grew tired of waiting for you."

Rivalen motioned a trio of warriors toward Aris and two more toward Ruha, then had the last one accompany him to Galaeron's cell.

"As a matter of fact," the prince said, "I was beginning to fear you had found some way other than shadow magic to leave the dungeon."

Galaeron shook his head. "No, just stopped using shadow magic."

Rivalen gave him a disbelieving smirk. "Of course you have." He came to Galaeron's door and studied his cell for a moment, then motioned him toward the back. "If you don't mind kneeling."

Galaeron did as the prince requested, though he took care to tuck his toes under him so he could spring to his feet quickly. To avoid letting his gaze stray toward the keystone in the ceiling and give away his plan, he kept his eyes locked on Rivalen.

"Why the hurry?" he asked. "A few more hours, and you wouldn't have to kidnap us."

The prince drew a set of lock picks from his cloak pocket and kneeled in front of the door. "In a few more hours, you would have escaped and been in another realm betraying the Most High to someone else." "Not actually," Galaeron said, "but I see your point."

He fell silent and allowed the prince to work. On the other side of the interrogation chamber, Aris's escorts finished binding his wrists and ankles with shadow line and set to work on the chains binding him to the wail. The giant kept jerking his arms and legs away, complicating their task to the point that one of them was drawing his sword.

"Aris, don't get yourself hurt," Galaeron ordered. He was beginning to see how he might help Aris and Ruha escape, but he needed the giant free of the chains. "It isn't worth it"

"Yes, you must be careful with those hands," Rivalen called, still working on Galaeron's lock. "The Most High values them nearly as highly as he does the secrets Galaeron carries from Melegaunt."

Ruha's escorts succeeded in opening her cell and motioned the witch out. As she approached the door, she glanced over her shoulder and raised her brow.

"At least you'll be in the same city as Malik," Galaeron said, nodding her out into the interrogation chamber. "Assuming he's still alive."

"He is, indeed," Rivalen said. "After betraying your plan, he is a favorite of the Most High."

The tumblers in Galaeron’s lock clicked open. The prince smiled and withdrew the picks.

Galaeron leaped to his feet and launched himself at the doorjamb with as much force as he could gather in two steps. "Run!" he yelled. "Save your-" The prince waved a dark hand at him, and Galaeron slammed into the back of the cell so hard his breath left him. He slid halfway down the wall, then found himself floating out the door still gasping for breath.

"Did you think I would fail to see the trap?" Rivalen asked. He held Galaeron suspended in front of him. "You are foolish as well as ungrateful. If you try something foolish again, Weluk will cut the witch's throat."

One of Ruha's escorts pressed a glassy dagger blade to her throat, and Rivalen's assistant began to bind Galaeron's wrists.

"You Shadovar have a strange sense of gratitude," Galaeron said. "If you think I'll help you destroy Faerыn to save Evereska, you are wrong."

"Your thinking will change," Rivalen assured him. "And we have no wish to destroy Faerыn."

"Then your wishes are different from your actions," Ruha said, ignoring the knife at her throat. "You have seen for yourself what the melting of the High Ice is doing to the Sword Coast and the Heartlands. You are starving whole nations out of existence."

"The Shadovar have spent seventeen centuries starving, and we endure," Rivalen shot back. "If the Faerыnian kingdoms are too weak to survive a few decades of hunger so the Netherese lands can grow fertile again, then they were not meant to last."

"I would take issue with that," said a familiar-and very angry-female voice. "As would Waterdeep, Silverymoon, the Dalelands, and even Thay, I'm sure."

A tremendous clanking filled the dungeon as an entire company of Purple Dragons literally stepped out of the opposite wall of the interrogation chamber, followed closely by Alusair Obarskyr, Vangerdahast, and Dauneth Marliir. Galaeron was almost embarrassed to realize that he had been staring at an illusion the entire night without realizing it.

Galaeron looked over to Ruha, and she shook her head. The issue remained in doubt. Her confidence in Storm had not been because she knew they were being watched.

Alusair turned to a wiry priest who followed her out of the wall and gestured toward the two sentries lying on the floor over at the guard station. "Owden," she said, "would you mind…" "Of course, Princess."

The priest scurried away. Alusair, attired in a full suit of battered plate armor, clanked across the interrogation chamber to where Rivalen stood.

"You will be kind enough to return the prisoners to their cells, Prince," she said, pointing to Galaeron and Ruha. "It is not yet morning."

Rivalen looked around the room and, finding several dozen crossbows not quite trained in his direction, seemed confused. He bowed but did not give the order- apparently deciding that since he was not yet under attack, Alusair had either not heard everything he had said or did not find it indefensible.

"I beg your forgiveness, Majesty," he said. "I did not mean to be presumptuous, but fearing the elf would use his shadow magic to escape, I assigned certain of my lords to keep a watch on their prison."

Alusair said nothing and looked to the guard station, where the one she had addressed as Owden was kneeling over the fallen sentries. He looked up and shook his head.

Rivalen was quick to cover. "As it happened, my caution was well-warranted. We spied a shadow whorl outside and followed it down to this dungeon." He waved a hand at the fallen guards. "Alas, we were too late to save your men, but we did capture the elf and his accomplices as they were attempting to leave." "That's a lie!" boomed Aris. "We were-"

Vangerdahast made a motion, and the giant's lips continued to move without sound. Aris scowled and shook his head in angry denial. If Alusair noticed, she paid him no attention and kept her attention focused on Rivalen.

"Cormyr is grateful for your vigilance," said the princess, "but the prisoners have not yet been returned to their cells."

Ruha's escorts started to return her to her cell. Rivalen snapped something at them in ancient Netherese that prompted them to stop in their tracks, then he turned to Alusair with a smile.

"It is nearing dawn, Princess. Given how close the prisoners have come to escaping already, surely we can steal a few hours from the night."

Vangerdahast scowled and tottered forward. "That is not how the law works in Cormyr, Prince Rivalen." He pointed an ancient and crooked finger through the bars behind Galaeron's back. "Remove your bindings and return the prisoners to their cells-or take their place."

Rivalen's golden eyes glowed almost white at the threat. He sneered at the old wizard a moment, then turned to Alusair. "If that is the crown's wish, then, of course, we will obey."

Vangerdahast pointed a serpentine finger at Ruha's guards and spoke a word of magic, and the two lords were hurled into the cell's back wall with enough force to shatter their black armor and leave them slumped on the floor.

"The crown has already stated its wish," Alusair said, motioning a squad of Purple Dragons forward to surround Rivalen and the others. "Will you unbind the prisoners, Prince?"

Rivalen hesitated, and Galaeron felt the cold magic of the Shadow Weave welling up as the prince prepared to carry him to the enclave.

"Go ahead, Rivalen," he said. "Abduct me now, and all Faerыn will know I am telling the truth."

The swell of cold magic faded, and Galaeron instantly regretted his words. Another second, and he would have been back in Shade Enclave, with no choice except to immerse himself in shadow. The restraints came free of Galaeron's hands of their own accord, and Rivalen shoved him through the door of the cell with enough force to bounce him off the far wall and drop him to the floor.

"You will give the prisoners to us at dawn." Though Rivalen attempted to phrase it as a command instead of a request, the mere fact that he said it made the question implicit. "The Most High would find it difficult to understand why a friend would harbor fugitives from his justice." "Would he?"

Alusair nodded, and Vangerdahast made a motion with his crooked finger. The doors slammed shut, locking Galaeron in his cell and the two Shadovar in the one adjacent. The Purple Dragons escorted Ruha away and placed themselves between Aris and the Shadovar who had been holding him prisoner.

Alusair watched Rivalen watch this, then said, "But he would understand allowing his friends to starve." She gave him a cold grin, then echoed his earlier words. "After all, if the Faerыnian kingdoms are too weak to survive a few decades of hunger, they are not meant to last."

Rivalen's face turned so dark it almost vanished. "Majesty, to understand any comment, you must know the context."

"I suppose that is true." Alusair stepped toward the prince, her attitude more that of a warrior challenging another than a potentate delivering a message. "So the Shadovar are not melting the High Ice?"

Rivalen cast a disparaging look in Galaeron's direction, then said, "The princess surely knows that every kingdom has its disaffected. A discontented elf saying a thing does not make it true."

"That is not an answer," Alusair pressed. "Are the Shadovar responsible for changing the weather of Faerыn or not?" "Us, Majesty?" Rivalen gasped. "We are only one city."

"A Netherese city-and Netherese cities have done worse," Alusair said, no doubt referring to the hubris that had caused the fall of the goddess Mystryl and altered the Weave itself forever. She turned her head over her shoulder and called, "Myrmeen, have you seen enough?" "I have, Majesty."

Myrmeen Lhal stepped through the illusionary wall, bringing with her half a dozen Arabellan nobles bearing the shadow blanket confiscated from Galaeron and his companions. She directed the nobles to drop the blanket at the prince's feet.

"There is Shade Enclave's stolen property," she said. "You and the rest of the Shadovar in Arabel may return it to your father with my compliments."

"I don't understand," Rivalen said, stalling for time to think. "You are ordering us out of the city?"

"I am ordering you out of Arabel-and the entirety of Cormyr, you and ail Shadovar," Alusair clarified. "You won't be welcome here until you stop the melting of the High Ice."

"You would begrudge us our birthright?" Rivalen gasped, changing tactics the instant it grew apparent his lies had been discovered. "By what right do you dare?"

It was the wrong thing to say to Alusair Obarskyr. She stepped forward until she was standing nose to breastplate with the huge Shadovar.

"By the right of law-and of arms." She shoved him back into Galaeron's cage, then turned to Dauneth Marliir and waved at the two Shadovar locked in the cell that had been Ruha's. "Are those the ones who killed our guards?"

Dauneth shrugged. "Perhaps, Majesty. These Shadovar are difficult to tell apart."

"Well, it matters not," she said. "They were at least party to the deaths of two of our guards. Execute them." "Of course, Majesty."

Rivalen opened his mouth to object, but Dauneth was already dropping his arm. Two dozen crossbows clacked, peppering the two Shadovar inside with iron bolts. Both warriors fell without a scream, their faces and throats studded with expertly placed quarrels.

Alusair turned to Rivalen. "I believe that makes our position clear, does it not?"

Vala limped out of the Irithlium's shadowed entrance-way to find Prince Escanor standing with a full company of Shadovar in the tree-choked courtyard. Their armor was fastened and their glassy swords held at battle ready. They were divided into squads of a dozen, each commanded by a fang-mouthed shadow lord. As Vala approached, an astonished-or perhaps relieved- murmur ran through their ranks, and the tips of their swords began to drift toward the ground. Raising her brow at the unexpected reception, she checked the ring Corineus had given her to make certain it was in the undetectable position, then removed the phaerimm tails from her belt and presented herself to Escanor. "Come to keep your promise, Escanor?" she asked. Escanor closed his gaping mouth. "My promise?"

"For killing the phaerimm beneath the Irithlium." Vala slapped the tails into his hand. "There are six tails there. Count them."

The prince glanced down at the tails and gave a wry smile. "Most impressive, but no. When I made that promise, I actually didn't think you would be returning."

"What you thought matters less than what you do about it," Vala said. "Are the Princes of Shade men who honor their words?"

"Unfortunately, that won't be possible," Escanor said, smile vanishing. He returned the phaerimm tails, then caught Vala by the wrist. "I was just on my way to fetch you for the Most High. It seems he has finally located Galaeron."

The prince turned away and dragging her after him, started to walk. Within two steps, his body had grown diaphanous and ghostly. Another two steps, and they were completely immersed in shadow, the ground beneath their feet as soft as water. Vala tried to pull away but stopped struggling when she experienced a strange sensation of falling and her captor's arm stretched into a writhing rope of darkness. She turned her magic ring so that it would show affairs as they truly were.

The swirling darkness around her became a pearly, motionless void, more colorless than it was gray. Escanor was a black heart beating inside a cage of black ribs, with no limbs or skull, but two coppery flames where there would have been eyes and a sheaf of finger wisps wrapped around Vala's arm.

The prince's fiery eyes swung in her direction. She quickly thumbed her ring back to its concealed position, and he became the shadowy figure of a moment before. "Walk," he said.

The prince took a step and became solid again. Vala followed. The ground grew hard beneath her feet, and wisps of shadow started to coalesce in smoky ribbons. The voices of unseen whisperers rose and fell in the surrounding darkness. Gradually, a set of murmurs hardened into the fuller tones of normal speech, and Vala recognized the sibilant voice of Telamont Tanthul Most High. He was speaking harshly to someone-shouting, in fact-and there was an angry murmur in the air around him.

The figures of several shadow lords appeared in the murk surrounding Telamont's throne. Standing closest to the dais were the princes Rivalen and Lamorak, with Hadrhune a quarter of the way up the stairs. To Vala's astonishment, Malik was on a step between the seneschal and the princes, his cuckold's horns no longer hidden by his customary turban. Galaeron was nowhere in sight. Escanor brushed past the lords and stopped at the base of the dais.

"… allow her to dictate terms to me?" the Most High was raging. "After all I have done to rebuild that wreck of a kingdom?"

"Most High, had the harlot dared utter a word against you, I would have stricken her down myself," Rivalen said, cringing visibly in the heat of his father's anger. "As her outrages were merely directed at me, I thought it best to endure them and return to consult." "Return without the elf?" "It was impossible to bring him," Rivalen said. The Most High waited in expectant silence.

"When it remained possible, I still had hopes of salvaging our relationship with Arabel," the prince continued. "I know the value you place on controlling the border cities."

The Most High remained quiet, though the sense of expectation that had hung in the air was gone. Vala folded her hands in front of her, covering the gift from Corineus, and thumbed her ring around. The murk paled to the color of fog, thin enough for her to see that the throne room was really a vast courtyard surrounded in the distance by dark bands she took to be walls. Beyond the dais in front of her rose the shapes of many other platforms, their silhouettes growing progressively more indistinct with distance, but each surrounded by a crowd of shadow lords similar to those ringing Vala and the princes.

The shadow lords themselves were wrinkled, ghoul-like figures with sunken, red-rimmed eyes and leathery black skin often pocked by white sores. Rivalen and Lamorak appeared much the same as had Escanor when Vala looked at him during the journey from Myth Drannor, varying only in how much of their skeleton remained attached to the black ribs that enclosed their black hearts. Surprisingly, Hadrhune appeared the same as before Vala had turned the ring-as did Malik, save that he held himself more erectly and seemed far more wiry than Vala had grown accustomed to thinking of him.

Finally, Telamont sent Vala's heart jumping into her throat by crying, "Betrayer!"

It was at first impossible to tell whom the Most High was addressing, for he was only two platinum eyes floating in a vaguely man-shaped pillar of darkness. The gray fog that filled the throne room seemed to be flowing through him, entering his "body" in the general area of the feet and leaving at the hands. In the area behind one of the eyes, in what should have been the temple area, there was something black and wrinkled, about half the size of Vala's fist, pulsing in beat to the Most High's words. "This is your doing, ungrateful Vaasan!"

Vala spun the ring to its concealed position and found the Most High's murk-filled cowl turned in her direction, his empty sleeve raised and pointing down the stairs at her.

Praying that Telamont had not sensed her magic ring, Vala raised her chin and forced herself to meet his angry glare. "Mine, Most High? I have not been anywhere near Cormyr." "You knew of his plans before he left, did you not?"

The last thing Vala wanted to do was admit her complicity in Galaeron's escape, but Malik had almost certainly revealed her role already, and she knew better than to think the Most High would be swayed by any lie she could tell. "I did," she said.

The Most High remained silent, and she felt the weight of his next question as tangibly as that of a fallen comrade's body.

"I wanted him to leave," she said. "You were giving him over to his shadow, not teaching him to control it." "Yet you went to Myth Drannor with Escanor."

"So you wouldn't grow suspicious and stop him from leaving," Vala said. Again, the silence, heavy and demanding.

"He didn't want to leave without me," Vala admitted. "I had to convince him that he had vexed me and that I was enamored of Escanor. He left swearing vengeance on you, Escanor, and Shade in general."

Telamont finally looked away and, shaking his head in disbelief, descended the dais to stand in front of Escanor.

"The blame in this lies in part with me," the Most High said. "I had not thought his shadow so much in control, but you were blinded by a woman's cajolery and allowed her to use you against the enclave-and for that, you should be executed as well."

Vala's knees grew instantly weak at the pronouncement, but Escanor only inclined his head. "If that-"

"Execute?" Malik interrupted, stepping to the Most High's side. "You cannot execute Vala!"

Telamont's platinum eyes grew as cold as winter hail. "You object, cuckold?"

"Of course not… only Vala is my friend, and it would break my wretched heart-whatever the One may still let me have of it-to see her killed." Malik frowned at the curse that compelled him to keep speaking when it would have been so much wiser to let the matter drop after the first few words, then apparently saw that he had nothing to lose and plunged ahead. "And even more importantly, it would break Galaeron's heart."

"Why should the One care about that, little man?" asked Hadrhune, descending the dais to stare down over Telamont's shoulder. "The elf is an ingrate and a traitor to all the enclave has given."

"True," Malik said, "but he is an ingrate and a traitor that Shade Enclave needs. If you slay Vala, you will make him an implacable enemy who will no doubt die in some foolish manner seeking vengeance against you."

Telamont rolled an empty sleeve, gesturing for Malik to continue.

"On the other hand," the little man said. "If you keep Vala here, holding her in some terrible manner certain to cause her great pain, letting it be known that she truly does love Galaeron and only went to Myth Drannor so he would leave and save himself, Galaeron is certainly the type of noble fool to return and try to rescue her."

"The fault in your thinking is that his shadow has almost certainly taken him already," Hadrhune pointed out. "If that is so, he will see through your plan and avoid us all the more."

"He seemed well in control of himself in Arabel," Rivalen said. "In point of fact, he seemed to be avoiding shadow magic altogether, even when he might have used it to free himself and escape us."

"If that is so, then perhaps our plan will work," Hadrhune said, as much the idea thief as ever. He stepped around to bring himself in line with Telamont's gaze. "May I suggest the drop pits? Surely, no torture can be worse than keeping those clean and clear-at least no survivable torture."

Vala had an unpleasant feeling that she knew what the drop pits were, but it hardly mattered. Any torture that kept her alive to return to her son was one she could endure.

Telamont considered Hadrhune's proposal for a moment, then gave a thoughtful half-nod. "It would certainly give the elf cause to come for her quickly." He turned his platinum eyes upon Malik and added, "What do you think, my short friend?" Malik's brow rose. "Me?"

"The plan is yours," Telamont said. "Do you think the drop pits the worst we can do?"

"Milord, I really do not know Shade Enclave well enough to name the worst torture it has to offer."

Malik fell silent for a moment, then his face twisted itself into a familiar expression of distress, and Vala had a sinking feeling.

"Only, it occurs to me that the torture most likely to draw Galaeron back in a rush is to make Vala a scullery maid in Escanor's palace and to let it be known that he is using her horribly at night."

Vala swallowed. As terrible as was Malik's suggestion, it was still something she could survive. To return to Sheldon, she could endure anything.

"And, of course, you must put her darksword away someplace where she cannot call it," Malik added. "For Vala, the worst torture of all will be not looking in on her son at night."

Until then, Vala had felt a debt of gratitude to the little man for saving her life. For telling them to take her visits, she could have killed him-in fact, she might have, had Escanor's powerful hand not closed around her wrist and prevented her from drawing her sword.

"If you please," Escanor said, "leave it in the scabbard when you pass it over."

Telamont's eyes sparkled with delight "I think Malik is correct." He turned his gaze on the little man. "You are proving yourself a surprisingly capable advisor."

Malik beamed. "I am glad you are pleased with my humble services."

"Yes, I would never have thought one of Mystra's curses would be of such benefit to Shade Enclave." Telamont left the dais and started across the throne room. "Come to the world-window with me, my friend. We must make an example of Cormyr and show Faerыn what it is to betray the generosity of Shade Enclave-and you will tell me how we are going to do it."