The Sorcerer

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

2 Eleasias, the Year of Wild Magic

Ruha sat wedged in a shady cleft high in the Scimitar Spires East, watching the Shade Enclave slowly sink toward the purple waters of Shadow Lake. Enormous as it was and swaddled in black shadow-stuff, the enclave resembled a storm cloud crashing down from on high, complete with sheets of silver lightning illuminating jagged sweeps of misty curtain and mysterious, half-heard roars rumbling out from its hidden heart. Veserab riders were descending from the city in masses of swirling wings, and hordes of shadow walkers were beginning to emerge from dark places all across the nearby hills. This increased the likelihood that she would be forced to flee before she found her friends-and Malik-but Ruha was glad to see so many Shadovar escaping alive. As terrible as were the calamities they had unleashed on Faer?n with their shadow blankets, she had no thirst for vengeance. The death of an entire city would do nothing to bring back the hordes who had already perished.

The enclave-or rather, the black cloud surrounding the enclave-dropped an abrupt five hundred feet, sending scores of veserabs tumbling through the air and bringing the city approximately level with Ruha's hiding place. Though it was difficult to see much through the billowing murk, every so often she glimpsed a crag of stone cliff sweeping past, or an expanse of black wall plummeting down out of the shadows only to suddenly reverse direction and vanish back into the gloom.

Shade was wobbling, Ruha realized, as though someone were struggling to keep it aloft. She could only guess what that meant for her friends, but it could not be good. Certainly, they were not the ones attempting to save the city.

"Storm?" Ruha said aloud. "How fare you? I am here."

Knowing the Weave would carry no more than a few words to Storm's ear, Ruha stopped there. Several more times, a craggy cliff emerged from the black mists and swept past Each time, the stony face seemed a little hazier and indistinct, as though she were looking through a denser fog-or more of it Despite this, she quickly began to recognize the features of the cliff and realized that the city was no longer sinking.

Someone was saving it

"Storm?" Ruha called again. "Khelben? Are you there?"

When no response came she tried Laeral, then Alustriel, and finally she received an answer.

The battle went badly, and I cannot contact them either. Even coming to Ruha through the Weave, Alustriel's voice sounded weak and full of pain. / was wounded and forced to leave. Is Shade still…?

It stopped sinking. Ruha replied using Alustriel's spell. What that means, I don't know.

Dove was injured as well, Alustriel reported. / hesitate to ask, but-

III learn what I can, Ruha offered.

The rumble of a collapsing building-or perhaps several of them-sounded somewhere inside the enclave, then a huge cascade of rubble tumbled out of the cloud and splashed into Shadow Lake.

The situation here is unsteady, Ruha sent, you may not hear from me for some time.

Thank you, Alustriel said. Be careful. Dove and I will return as soon as we are well enough to help.

Ruha watched until the rubble had stopped splashing into the lake, then she drizzled a little saliva on her hand. She had not used her magic for fear of alerting a Shadovar patrol to her presence, but Alustriel's request rendered that fear irrelevant. The Shining Lady would never have asked for help, were she not worried that Galaeron's plan had gone terribly wrong. Ruha made a wiping motion in the air before her, at the same time using the elemental magic favored by desert witches to cast a spell of clear seeing.

The shadow mist grew transparent, so long as she looked straight ahead. For the first time, she saw Shade unmasked. The city of grand palaces and imposing edifices that had seemed so breathtaking was gone. In its place hung a jumbled mountain of shabby tenements and dilapidated mansions, collapsing one after the other as the enclave lurched about like a camel on the deck of a storm-tossed ship. Even the overturned peak upon which it rested was flaky disintegrating shale instead of hard granite.

Pouring down the face of the mountain was a stunning thread of silver liquid, not so much falling into the lake as stretching down through the surface. Whether it actually touched bottom or continued through it down into the heart of the Phaerlin was impossible to say, but Ruha knew by how the strand remained tight from top to bottom that it was not falling water. She followed its shining line up to the source and discovered that it came from a cleft in a red, heart-shaped boulder lodged in a horizontal fissure about halfway up the mountain.

Swinging about beneath the boulder, affixed to it by some means not apparent at that distance, was a pudgy little shape with a pair of tiny nubs rising from the top of his head. Ruha needed no more magic to recognize what she was seeing. She knew a pair of cuckold's antlers when she saw them.

It was Malik's accursed fortune that the Shadovar had to be the worst smiths on this plane or any other. He was hanging with his feet braced against the lower lip of the sun slit, trying to pull the Karsestone-which stood a full head higher than he was tall-through an opening that rose only to his chin. One of the links in his manacle chain had opened. The gap was not large, but given his strength and his pitiful condition even that much was a comment on the sorry state of Shadovar metalworking.

"Cyric!" he called.

He continued to pull, but kept a careful eye on the link.

"The One-"

The cleft swept upward as the city began another of its wild oscillations. For perhaps the hundredth time, Malik found himself tumbling down toward the opposite corner. He could think of nothing but the weak chain, of what would become of him if the link opened and he went tumbling into the lake below. Drowning would be the least of it Thirsty as he was, it might even be pleasant. Afterward, though, the things that would happen to his spirit if he failed Cyric and died… that he could not even bear to contemplate.

The free manacle struck him in the head, and the chain jerked him along upside-down. He slammed into the upper lip of the sun slit and flipped down in front of the tumbling

Karsestone just in time to catch a long spray of whole magic straight in the face. He began to cough violently, then the boulder was rolling onto his chest Ribs crackled, his breath left him in a scream, and the stone stopped. On top of him.

Malik cursed and kicked and shoved, but the thing would not budge. It was wedged in place against the ceiling of the slit, which meant he had somehow-at last-dragged it into the opening.

He craned his neck to the side, and through the cascade of silvery magic pouring down over his face, he glimpsed a ragged notch in the upper Up of the sun slit. Malik began to believe he might really succeed in stealing the stone. That he would no doubt be killed in the process was an unpleasant consequence, but in his service to Cyric, he had suffered many things far worse.

The pain was beyond belief, and it was impossible to draw breath, but Malik had long ago learned to ignore minor inconveniences such as those. He hooked his heels over the lip of the opening and pulled. The Karsestone slipped a little-and more weight settled on his chest.

Maybe that meant there would be more room at the top. Malik pulled harder with his legs. Something snapped in his chest He pulled harder and shoved with his arms. Nothing moved, but he did grow dizzy from lack of air. Thus reminded that the stone was laying on him, he saw that if he could only get out from beneath it, there would be room for it to fall completely on its side and slide out into the empty air.

Lacking any other means of extracting himself, Malik straightened his legs and began to swing them back and forth in a widening arc, trying to work first his hips free, then the rest of his body as well. Behind him, the roar and crash of screaming Shadovar and tumbling stone rose and faded in time to the wild oscillations of the enclave. The Karsestone pressed more heavily as the slit swung downward. Malik’s vision closed in, and stars began to appear around the edges of the darkening tunnel. The rush of oblivion filled his ears, then the slit reached the apogee of its swing and started back down.

The weight all but vanished. Malik flung his legs down in the direction they were traveling and felt his hips slip out from beneath the boulder. He rolled to his side and pushed, hard, and was free.

The Karsestone rocked toward him.

"Devil rock!"

Malik pushed off and pivoted on his hip, whirling out of its path and back into the loom chamber. The Karsestone settled on its side, rocked to the right, rocked to the left, and slipped over the edge.

The manacle stretched Malik's arm out full, and he thought his hand would pop free of his wrist Instead, he flew out the sun slit after it and found himself following the Karsestone down through a swirling cloud of veserab riders. The boulder struck glancing blows to two beasts and sent them tumbling and hissing away, then finally caught one square between the wings. The impact slowed their fall just long enough for a little slack to develop in the chain that connected Malik to the stone. The rider slipped past, bloody and twisted on one side and the mount broken and screeching on the other, then the purple waters of Shadow Lake grew visible no more than a thousand feet below.

Malik smiled.

"Cyric!" he screamed. "Hear me now, Cyric, the One-"

When he cried the last word, no sound came from his mouth. The lake continued to come up beneath him, though with the ferocious wind filling his eyes with tears, it was all but impossible to see. He tried again and remained as mute as a tortoise. He cursed Shar, thinking she was only trying to protect her prize, then glimpsed a dark shape angling down to intercept him. Thinking it was only an alert Shadovar lord, Malik reached for his stolen dagger-and instantly found himself engulfed in a web of sticky magic strands.

In a web of sticky strands of Weave magic.

Malik stopped falling, and wailed more in frustration than pain as the Karsestone stretched his manacle chain taut- again-and jerked his shoulder out of its socket He thought the terrible strain would tear off his arm. Instead, the boulder stopped falling, and he found himself staring out a small gap down his manacle chain to the open link. The gap was as wide as a dagger blade and growing before the one eye that could see it.

Malik tried to see who had captured him, but the magic web held his head too tightly for it to turn. It hardly mattered. He knew without looking who it was. She had a gift for arriving when he most needed her to be somewhere else. They turned and started across the lake toward the Scimitar Mountains.

"Where are your manners, Malik?" Ruha called. "Will you not thank me for saving your life?"

The opening in the link continued to grow, and in his fury it barely registered that Ruha had annulled the magic that had silenced him earlier. “Meddling Harper witch!" Malik cried. "Can you not see that I am robbing the Shadovar of their greatest power?"

"And giving it to Cyric, I am certain," Ruha surmised, relieving him of the compulsion to add this himself. "I think the rest of us will be better served with the Karsestone in the hands of the Chosen-and you standing before a Harper court"

"You may as well murder me here!" Realizing that he could speak again, Malik tried again to say, "Cyric, the-"

Again, his words began to spill silently from his mouth. They passed out from beneath the city's shadow, but Malik could see that the chain would never hold until they reached shore. The open link was straightening before his eyes. He tried to call out, hoping that if he could warn Ruha she would at least save the stone until he could steal it later, but the only thing to leave his mouth was his silent, anguished breath.

The link lost its last bit of curve, and the Karsestone plummeted free. Malik and Ruha shot skyward, but only long enough for Ruha to regain control and start down after the falling stone.

"You heel-biting cur!" Ruha stormed. "What have you done?"

Even had he been able to speak, Malik would not have bothered to defend himself. He was too busy trying to mark the place the stone would enter the water. Flapping along behind the diving witch as he was, that was an impossible thing in its own right He saw little more than flashes of dark water and streams of fleeing veserabs.

"Kozah's breath!" Ruha cursed.

She pulled up sharply, and suddenly. As Malik swung beneath her he had a view of nothing but water. A giant waterspout was rising up to meet the Karsestone, seven watery fingers stretching out to entwine it. Perhaps the One had heard after all. Or so Malik prayed.

The silvery fingers closed around the boulder and pulled it down into Shadow Lake, leaving behind a huge black whirlpool. Malik prayed that it had been Cyric's hand that had taken the crown of the Shadow Weave and that consequently he would not be left to languish forever in the hell of his god's displeasure.

But it was not to be. As the stone vanished into the lake's murky depths, a glistening purple eye appeared in the heart of the whirlpool and winked at him.

Malik knew better than to hope the eye belonged to Cyric. The One never sent signs, except when he was angry.

•©• o- •©• • •©•

Head spinning with afterdaze, Galaeron arrived clasping Vala's hand, his other arm looped around Aris's knee, his eyes aching in the brilliant sun. Crackles, bangs, and half-muffled roars rumbled out of the sky while off in the distance an erratic din of booming splashes rolled across a broad expanse of water. There was trouble over there, and it slowly came back to Galaeron that he and his companions were the cause. Aris groaned, stumbling forward, and crashed to a knee, spilling an armload of bloodied humans as he put a hand out to catch himself.

A glimpse of black beard was all it took for Galaeron to recall where he was and how he had come to be there. Instead of turning to check on the injured Chosen, he looked back and was disappointed to see the murk-swaddled city still hovering a thousand feet in the air, engulfed in swirling clouds of veserabs and releasing a steady rain of debris down into the lake. There were no obvious signs of pursuit, though anyone powerful enough to recapture Galaeron and three Chosen would come by shadow, not air.

As Galaeron studied the enclave, he noticed a thin line of darkness running between the lake and the city. It was near the shore and so faint as to be almost invisible but also straight and unwavering. As he watched, the lower end moved out toward deeper water, slicing through the purple waves without leaving a wake. Shade itself remained where it was. Galaeron spent a few moments observing, trying to puzzle out what he was seeing. Veserabs circled around it, and debris bounced off it as though it were a solid rope, yet it was as transparent as a pale shadow. Through it he could see passing Shadovar, falling boulders, and even the mountains on the lake's far shore.

Galaeron finally gave up guessing, and seeing that the enclave was not going to sink any lower, he turned back to his companions. Laeral was handing Aris his third flask of healing potion, and the wounds Khelben and Storm had suffered were already closing. Khelben held a vial out to Galaeron and motioned at the gashes in his neck.

"You may as well take care of those before we return."

"Return?" Aris asked. The flask Laeral had given him slipped from his hand and shattered on the stony ground. He appeared not to notice. 'To Shade?"

"That's where the mythallar is," Storm replied. She stood and tested her wounded leg. It nearly buckled beneath her, but that did not stop her from nodding approvingly. "Ill need a quarter hour, no more."

In what seemed another life, Galaeron would have been impressed by how quickly the Chosen healed. Having seen what he had seen and knowing how quickly any Shadovar warrior-especially the princes-could heal themselves, he knew his companions to be woefully overmatched.

But it was Aris who objected.

"Has that silver fire melted your brains? We can't return to Shade without Galaeron's magic, and look at him!" Hardly seeming to notice the two shadow arrows still lodged in his shoulder, the giant waved a huge arm in Galaeron's direction. "He's going to have a terrible time getting back to normal as it is. You can't ask him to use more shadow magic."

"Aris, there's no 'normal' to get back to. I've told you that," Galaeron said, wondering how he would ever make the giant understand that shadow and light were only illusions. Once one accepted the truth of that, everything became light… and everything became shadow. "I was not ail good before, and my shadow was not all bad."

"You could have fooled me," Aris said. "Or perhaps you have forgotten what happened in the Saiyaddar?"

"Of course not, but that happened because of the struggle, not because of my shadow. It's the refusal to yield that causes the crisis."

"It was the crisis that Telamont was trying to exploit," Laeral surmised. "He wanted to make you fear your shadow so you would keep struggling and remain unbalanced until he could take control."

"To some extent, yes," Galaeron agreed, "but the struggle is necessary. You need to build strength. The shadow is very strong, and I think it would overwhelm you if you accepted it too soon."

"I understand-better than you can know." Laeral said. She cast a private glance at Khelben then looked back to Galaeron. "Once you're ready, accepting your shadow will make you stronger and better."

"Stronger, yes, but better?" Galaeron asked. "I don't know. Strength overcomes weakness, so the strengths in my shadow have overcome some weaknesses in my character, and the strengths in my character have overcome most of the weaknesses in my shadow. So I feel whole-but that hardly makes me a paladin. The world is a darker place than I knew before, and I'm the darker for seeing that. It's not something I'd describe as better."

Sympathetic expressions came to the faces of all three of the Chosen, and Khelben said, "We can't know what you're going through, Galaeron, but I'm sure we share this much. There are times when we all wish we could go back to, uh… the way we were before, but the door only opens one way."

"And even were it possible to go back, I would still use any magic necessary to return us to the city," Galaeron said. As thankful as he was for the understanding and comradeship the Chosen were extending to him, he was also convinced that it was folly to do as they asked. "If we return now, we accomplish nothing but our own deaths. The princes heal as fast as the Chosen, and there are more of them than of us."

"Which is why we must strike now, and quickly," Storm said. Her eyes were locked on Galaeron, fixing him in place like a snake pinned beneath an eagle's claw. "This is your plan. Will you see it through or not?"

"Not if it means losing three of Mystra's Chosen," Galaeron said. "Impotent though you may be, you are the only hope Faer?n has, and I will not-"

"Impotent?" Khelben grumbled. He stepped closer, all trace of his earlier camaraderie vanished. He raised his famous black staff as though he meant to rap Galaeron on the brow with it "I will teach you impotent!"

Galaeron stood unflinching, ready to take whatever blow the wizard cared to deliver, if that would make him and the other Chosen listen.

Laeral spared him the necessity, catching Khelben by the arm and dragging him back a step.

"He has a point, my love. Telamont will not have failed to notice our helplessness once the mythallar was cracked."

"All the more reason to strike now." Khelben's glare slid from Galaeron to Laeral as he said, "Before he expects our return. If we are as 'impotent' as the elf claims, surprise may be our only chance."

"And if we fall, we have no chance," Aris countered.

" "We?*" Storm echoed. "I doubt there is any sense in your risking your life as well, my friend. Your size is nothing but a hindrance, and your strength will do us little good."

"Little good?" Aris boomed. "Did you not notice that I am the one who cracked the mythallar? You are not returning without me, I promise you that"

Though it did not escape Galaeron's notice how smoothly Storm had shifted the topic to how they would return from whether, he turned a deaf ear to the argument and glanced toward Vala. She had remained on the fringes of the argument, silent and withdrawn, watching him the entire time in the blunt Vaasan way. Her green eyes remained as enigmatic as the emeralds they resembled.

Galaeron would have given anything to know what she was thinking. Did she consider him weak for yielding to his shadow? Or was she under the misconception-as he had been-that it was a sacrifice necessary to save Faer?n? He considered it a given that she hated him for abandoning her to Escanor. After all that had befallen her-and Telamont had described it to him many times while he was a prisoner in the Palace Most High-he did not understand how she could stand to look upon his face without drawing her sword, but the choice had been hers. She was the one who had hurt him in order to save him, and if her plan had worked she had only herself to blame.

Galaeron knew what he saw in Vala's eyes: anger. She had given so much to protect him. It could only seem to her that he had thrown her sacrifice back in her face, that he had returned to Shade without a thought to what she had done and become the thing she had so desperately tried to prevent

She was right Though he had certainly hoped to free Vala, it was Evereska and Faer?n he had come to save. The Chosen would never have agreed to help him otherwise, and he could see how right they would have been. Vala was a mere afterthought, one even Galaeron would have forsaken for a slight increase in their chances of success.

None of that changed his love for her-or how he wished he had spoken to her about it when there was still a chance she would listen.

Galaeron grew aware of a heavy silence and realized the others were looking at him.

Without taking his eyes off Vala, he said, "You know the Shadovar better than anyone here. What do you want to do?"

"What I want is to end this and go home." Vala's gaze finally left Galaeron's. She turned to face Khelben and said, "What I think-"

Vala pulled her darksword and spun back in Galaeron's direction, her arm drawing back to throw.

Startled by just how badly he had underestimated her anger, Galaeron opened himself to the Shadow Weave. He swirled his hand before his body and hissed a wispy Shadovar spell, and a shadowy disk of protection sprang into existence between him and Vala

Vala dropped her gaze and scowled, and it was only then that Galaeron realized she had been looking past his shoulder. Khelben took advantage of the distraction to slip to her side and catch her by the crook of the elbow.

"No need, my dear," he said. "If s Ruha."

Vala squinted into the sky above Galaeron and said, "So it is. She really should wear some other color."

Galaeron turned to see Ruha's black-cloaked figure sweeping down from the sky, her aba and veil flapping wildly in the wind and a familiar figure dangling from a manacle chain attached to her wrist.

"Aha!" Aris boomed, yelling in Malik's direction. "Let us see how you like life in bondage!"

Ruha circled them once, losing altitude, then let Malik slam down and dragged him half a dozen steps across the rocky ground before alighting gently herself.

She bowed in Storm's direction, and pinning Malik’s neck to the ground with her foot, touched her fingers to her brow.

"Well met, my friends. Have you conversed with your sisters?"

Storm cast a quick glance in the direction of the other Chosen then said, "Not since our defeat in Shade."

Thinking that no one was paying attention to him, Malik snaked his free hand out to reach for a rock. He found three throwing daggers-Galaeron's, Vala's, and Ruha's-planted in the ground around his wrist and quickly withdrew the offending arm.

Ruha continued the conversation without pause.

"I am pleased to say they both survived. When they could not reach you in the customary ways, Alustriel grew worried and asked me to investigate."

"How long before they're ready to attack the mythallar again?" Khelben asked. Turning to Galaeron, he added, "They'd make a big difference, especially if we're willing to risk the silver fire."

"Fight? In the shadow harlot1 s den?" Malik cried. "I will cut my wrist off before I allow you to drag me back there!"

"Your wrist is safe for now." Galaeron met Khelben's gaze and said, "There is no point in fighting on their ground. Better to attack the shadow blankets directly and draw them out as the phaerimm were doing."

"It hardly matters to you, Malik," Ruha said. She pulled him to his feet, jerking his hand away from Vala's dagger just as his fingers brushed the hilt. "If I am not needed here, I ask leave to return Malik to the justice of Twilight Hall, while I still have him chained to my wrist."

All three Chosen inclined their heads with expressions that suggested they would be just as happy to adjudicate the matter themselves and be done with it there.

Storm said, "An excellent plan, and I think enough magic remains here for us to see you safely sped along your way."

"To Twilight Hall?" Malik's fear was evident in the way his voice cracked. "Ill be murdered!"

"Only after you are found guilty of a few of your crimes," Khelben answered. "And the word is 'executed'."

"Executed or murdered, it is all the same!" Malik cast a plaintive gaze in Aris's direction and said, "Will you just sit by and let them do this to someone who has saved your life so many times?"

"I will be glad to describe how you saved me," he said, "and also how you enslaved me so you could use my shape studies to grow your church!"

For the first time, a look of despair came over Malik's round face. He seemed to consider his options for a moment then turned to Khelben with a wild-eyed gaze.

"I can tell you how to destroy Telamont Tanthul in a single strike!" He remained silent only a moment before his mouth began to twitch, and more words spilled out. "Of course, there is every chance that you will destroy all of Shade and half of Anauroch with him…"

Even a prospect that terrible was not enough to keep Khelben from cocking his eyebrow.

"You know I can never lie," Malik reminded him.

"We're listening," Laeral said.

Malik's bulging eyes appeared to focus on the tip of Ruha's boot as he planned what he would say next. Given what he had already told them about the pitfalls, Galaeron could not believe the Chosen were even interested in hearing the suggestion.

Finally, Malik looked back to Khelben and said, "What good will it do me to save the world if I am not here to see it?"

Ruha dropped a knee into the middle of his back and used a cuckold's antler to pull his head up, then wrapped the chain connecting their manacles around his neck.

"What makes you think I would ever let you tell them something that would destroy Anauroch?" Ruha asked. "I would rather see you dead and stand before the judges of Twilight Hall myself!"

She tightened the chain until he began to gasp. "Ruha!" Khelben shouted. He seemed as surprised as Galaeron was by the witch's behavior. "Let him speak."

"Never!" she replied, pulling until Malik's eyes began to bulge. "If you want to know-"

Ruha's exclamation came to an abrupt end as Storm plucked her off Malik's back.

"Harper hag!" Malik croaked. "I ought to tell them just for spite!" Again, his face contorted into a conflicted mask, and he added, "Except that after what happened in Shadowdale, I know no Chosen would ever be foolish enough to fling a bolt of silver fire into a being of pure shadow essence."

Galaeron did not realize Ruha's threat had been a ruse until he saw her exchange congratulatory glances with each of the Chosen.

Laeral said, "Not very helpful, Malik."

"Actually, we've already tried silver fire," Storm said. She didn't explain that the attack had only been a ruse designed to buy time for Vala. "Telamont blocked it with a shielding spell."

"Though that hardly matters," Khelben added. "I no longer have much influence with the Harpers anyway."

"Harpers?" Malik screeched. "I am talking about Ruha."

"In exchange for revealing that Telamont Tanthul is pure shadowstuff?" Galaeron scoffed. He was beginning to understand the game the Chosen were playing. "You'll have to do better than that if you want me to set you free."

"There is no use listening to him, Malik," Ruha warned. "That will never happen."

The anger in Ruha's eyes was convincing, and it occurred to Galaeron that the others might not realize he had joined their game.

"Perhaps not while you live," Galaeron said, keeping his tone even. He dropped his hand to the hilt of his sword. "It makes no difference to me."

Malik’s eyes lit like a pair of torches.

"Kill her?" asked Malik. He considered the situation for a moment, then grew doubtful. "You are too much of a coward. You would never do such a thing."

"To save Evereska?" Galaeron responded. "What do you think I wouldn't do?"

It did not escape Galaeron's notice that Khelben, Vala, and all the rest were inching in his direction-nor did it escape Malik's. He considered the proposal only a moment.

"You have already won!" Malik blurted. "There is no need to destroy the mythallar or even to slay Telamont" He would have stopped there, but for Mystra's curse. "They cannot make their shadow blankets without the magic of the Karse-stone, and the Karsestone is gone!"

"What?" This from Vala, who was finally beginning to seem interested in the discussion. "Gone how?"

"Into the lake," Ruha explained. "It was attached to his other wrist and fell free. A waterspout reached up to take it."

"It was Shar's hand," Malik explained in a dismal voice. "She has had control of the Shadow Weave all along."

This was enough to make Galaeron draw his sword and press the blade to Ruha's throat. Storm and Vala drew their own blades and stepped over to defend the witch, and it was not clear to Galaeron whether they were warning him off or just supporting his act. In fact, he was no longer sure that he was acting. Doing his best to seem as though he might be worried about the possibility of fighting two of the best swordswomen in Faer?n, Galaeron kept his blade pressed to Ruha's throat

"Before I set you free," he said to Malik, "tell me how you know all this."

Malik eagerly recounted how, while chained to the Karse-stone in Shar's hidden temple, he came to the realization that it was the symbol of her control over the Shadow Weave. Then he told of how, when the city began to fall, the stone had pulled him down into one of the looming chambers, and of how hard he had struggled to steal the stone for Cyric so that he would one day rule the Shadow Weave- and perhaps the Weave itself, since if there was any god capable of putting the two back together, it was the One and All.

By the time Malik finished, Galaeron was not only sure that the seraph was telling the truth, but also that he had correctly interpreted everything he'd seen. Even Khelben seemed convinced.

"I'm willing to grant that Shar caught the Karsestone," Khelben said, "and even that the stone is the symbol of her control over the Shadow Weave, but if the Shadovar need it to create more shadow blankets, I don't see what's to stop her from returning it"

"Nothing," Galaeron answered. "Except that Shar is the goddess of unrevealed secrets. After Prince Yder allowed the seraph of an arch rival to not only discover the Karsestone's role and location, but to come so close to stealing it, I am sure she will find a safer place to hide it."

"And let the Shadovar suffer for their sins," Laeral said. "I agree."

This drew a broad smile from Malik, who looked up at Galaeron and said, "I am waiting."

"I would do many things to save Evereska," Galaeron said, "and one of them is lie."

"Lie?" Malik screeched. "The One will punish you for this-though I will surely be the one who suffers in your place! After the many times I have saved your life, how can you do this to me?"

"Because it is necessary."

Though Malik had never done anything to hurt Galaeron and it pained the elf to betray an old friend, he lowered his sword. He stepped back, and with the little man still hurling invectives at his back, he turned to Storm.

"It seems our plan worked for most of Faer?n, if not Evereska," he said. "I thank you for trying."

"As we thank you," Khelben said, slapping a hand on Galaeron's shoulder, "but we are not done yet. Did I not overhear you telling Telamont that you now have a complete understanding of the phaerimm?"

Galaeron nodded, not daring to believe Khelben would say what he hoped Khelben was going to say.

"You did."

Khelben glanced over his shoulder toward Shadow Lake, where the erratic torrent of debris falling from the gloom-cloaked enclave had finally dwindled to a sporadic rain. Instead of fleeing the city, most veserabs seemed to be trying to find a safe route back, and even the crash of collapsing buildings was growing more intermittent and muted.

"Laeral, Storm, what say you?" he asked. "Have we done enough damage here?"

"Not enough," Storm said, "but all we can."

"Yes," Laeral said. "I think it is high time we returned to Evereska."

She held out her arms, inviting Galaeron and the others to join hands with her for an instantaneous return to the Shaeradim. Aris kneeled down and extended a pinky for her to hold, but Vala made no move to join the circle. Galaeron was surprised-and perhaps just a little relieved-to discover he had a sinking feeling in his chest If his heart was breaking, then sorrow could not be a weakness his shadow had overcome. He went to stand close to Vala.

"I know it's a lot to ask," Galaeron began, "especially after what I put you through, so I won't If you want to come to Evereska with us, you and your sword are more than welcome."

Vala grunted what might have been acceptance, refusal, or simply an acknowledgment of the question, then said, "One thing. Were you watching when Yder and Aglarel chased me out of the mythallar?"

Galaeron nodded.

"And you didn't come after me?"

Galaeron shook his head.

"Why not?"

"Because I wanted to destroy the mythallar, and I knew our chances would be better if Aris and I remained in hiding until Telamont showed all of his tricks." Galaeron swallowed, then added, "And because I knew you could take care of yourself."

"Knew, Galaeron?" she asked.

"Hoped, anyway."

Vala pushed her upper lip into a half-hearted sneer, then shrugged and smiled.

"At least you're honest." She grasped his hand, stepped over to Laeral's teleport circle, and said, "Of course I'm coming. Do you think I'd dare go back to Vaasa without my men and our darkswords?"