The Siege rota-2 Page 6

  The Shadovar clasped Namirrha's hand then, in a move so swift even Malygris hardly saw it, pulled him forward onto the blade of a glassy black dagger. Namirrha screamed in surprise and tried to call on his servant for help, but the Shadovar's hand was over his mouth in a black blur, and Malygris felt no urge at all to defend the necromancer. Brennus finished the attack by first pushing his black blade down to Namirrha's crotch, then splitting him up the center and letting the two halves of the body fall separately.

  When he was done, the accursed amulet was hanging from the back side of his dark blade. This he dropped at Malygris's feet. "There is your gift, Malygris."

  Malygris eyed the amulet warily, as he did the bloody mess in which the Shadovar stood. "If you think to ingratiate yourself with your warmblood treachery-"

  "We think to avenge the insult he paid us by implying that Shade was not the equal of a piteous bunch of wretches like the Zhentarim," Clariburnus said, "and the insult he paid you as well, in treating the Blue Suzerain like a trained attack dog."

  Had Malygris still had lips, he would have smiled. "For that I thank you-but why should I honor the bargain he made? My dragons need Zhents to eat."

  "They will have plenty to eat in the war," Brennus said. "That I promise you."

  "If you think on it, you will find yourself still bound by Namirrha's promise," Clariburnus said. "You sold yourself to the Cult of the Dragon, and even we princes of Shade cannot free you now."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  9 Mirtul, the Year of Wild Magic

  Night in Shade Enclave came as a deepening of the general murk, when the air grew heavy and tepid and drew in on itself in inky mist. Galaeron sat on the balcony outside Villa Dusari's master bedchamber, not keeping watch, but watching. Despite the hour, the steady murmur and clatter of passing traffic growled up out of the ebony gloom, just loud enough to keep a company of restless householders from their pillows. Aris was down in the lower warrens of the city, plinking away in his workshop. Ruha was skulking about the house searching for Malik, who was obviously somewhere other than his chamber. Only Vala was in bed, on the other side of the door from where Galaeron sat. She was not sleeping, just staring into the blade of her black sword, a wistful smile on her full lips and a softness in her eyes alien to them during the day.

  She was, Galaeron knew, looking in on her son in Vaasa. At night, her darksword often lulled her into a trance and showed her what was happening in the bedchambers of the Granite Tower-'dream walking' she called it, though it was more akin to spying. During their months together, he had learned to read her expression and tell when she was visiting Sheldon. That the sword seemed to be looking in on the boy more often these days was one of few things that made Galaeron think the weapon might not be entirely sinister.

  Though he did not begrudge Vala these glimpses of her son, Galaeron did envy them. His own father and sister were lost to the fog of war-dead or beyond reach, he did not know which. The Swords of Evereska's desperate attempt to save the gate at the Rocnest had already become the stuff of legend. By all accounts, Aubric Nihmedu had been leading the charge, and Galaeron was not fool enough to believe a mere bladesinger likely to survive any combat in which Khelben Arunsun-one of Mystra's Chosen-had vanished without a trace.

  His sister, Keya, remained trapped in Evereska- though Galaeron could not be certain of even that much, as the phaerimm had long ago stopped all communication with the Lasthaven by raising a magic deadwall around the Sharaedim. He could hardly bear to think of his little sister-at eighty, barely an adult- sitting alone in Treetop, sad and frightened, probably hungry and perhaps even in despair, while outside the phaerimm circled the city waiting for a chance to enter. Yet, the alternative-that the mythal had already collapsed and Evereska fallen-was too horrible to contemplate.

  And it was Galaeron's doing-the escape of the phaerimm, the besieging of Evereska, the whole war. He had caused it in one of those terrible moments a person replayed in his mind a thousand times, telling himself that if he had done this, or said that, or just left it all alone, everything would have been fine. Instead, Galaeron and his Tomb Guards had followed a band of crypt-breakers down into the long-forgotten workings of a dwarven mine and found Vala and her Vaasan warriors preparing to rendezvous with their shadow mage master, Melegaunt Tanthul. In the confusion that followed, Galaeron had given the order that breached the Sharn Wall, nearly two dozen men and elves had died, and the phaerimm had escaped to begin their assault on Evereska.

  Vala and the Shadovar had told him a hundred times that he had only been performing his duty and wasn't to blame, but their words could not change what had happened-or how he felt about it. Eager to undo his mistake, Galaeron had joined forces with Vala and her shadow mage master and set out to summon the only help that seemed capable of defeating the evil he had unleashed. Along the way, he had learned to use shadow magic and had overreached his limits, opening himself to the corrupting influences of the Shadow Weave and beginning a desperate battle against his own shadow for the possession of his spirit. At every step of the way, it seemed, he had made the wrong decision, and now that he could not be certain whether the thoughts running through his mind belonged to him or his shadow self, he was almost afraid to decide anything at all.

  But there was one thing he knew for certain, one decision he knew to be his own. He would do anything to save Evereska, make any sacrifice to amend his terrible mistake.

  Galaeron settled back and tried to clear his mind, but found himself too agitated. His thoughts kept returning to the morning, wondering whether Hadrhune would arrange the promised audience or find yet another excuse to put it off-and whether the Most High's help would be the solution to his shadow problems, or just one more mistake. Certainly, it did not bode well that the Shadovar had concealed the fact that Shade Enclave was moving away from Evereska. But even Galaeron could see how his shadow would have used that information to feed his suspicions and make him distrust the one most able to help him win his spirit back.

  While there was a time when he could have stilled his thoughts by retreating into the Reverie, Galaeron had lost touch with that facet of elf nature when he allowed his shadow to invade. Instead of slipping into a semi lucid trance of memories and the shared emotions of other elves, he sank into the same insensible, nightmare-filled slumber as humans.

  But this night even sleep would not come. He passed the black hours staring out into the darkness, listening to the city clatter past beneath his balcony, replaying the same thoughts and doubts over and over again until the gloom paled from night-ebony to dawn-gray and Aris came striding out of the murk carrying his statue of Escanor's battle against the phaerimm.

  Already completed, the piece was Aris's finest yet, so flowing it seemed in danger of writhing from the giant's hands. The prince's figure was noble and majestic, one hand still stretched toward the phaerimm he had just killed as he twisted around to face his new attacker. The creature itself was connected to him by the tail piercing his abdomen, and also by two hands wrapped around his throat, an artistic license taken to impart the impression that the beast was hovering beside him unsupported.

  "Aris, it's magnificent!" Vala said, joining Galaeron on the balcony as the stone giant stepped into the courtyard. "You did that in one night?"

  "I could not have finished without Malik," Aris said. The statue was at balcony level, and the giant was speaking down from above. He half-turned toward the empty gate. "He did most of the polishing."

  "And what has this favor cost you?" demanded Ruha, stepping out of the colonnade to meet them. "An arm, or a soul?"

  "That is no business of yours, shrew," Malik said. "You cannot be expected to understand what one friend does for another, since you have none of your own." He craned his neck up toward the balcony. "You would do well to make yourselves decent. The prince is on his way here." "The prince?" Galaeron asked. "Which one?"

  "Escanor, of course," Malik said. "If you are wise, you will benefit by my experience an
d do nothing to encourage him to return. There is no thief worse than a royal."

  Galaeron glanced at Vala, who merely shrugged and turned to don her armor-by Vaasan standards, a far superior mode of dress to any of the dusky gowns Hadrhune's servants had delivered. Galaeron opted for his scout's cloak, as even the coarsest Evereskan cloth was considered extravagant by non-elves.

  By the time they had changed and joined the others in the courtyard, Escanor's entourage was pouring through the gate. Tall even by Shadovar standards, the prince was visible in the middle of the group, his coppery eyes glaring out over the heads of his escorts. Galaeron and the others dropped to a knee and waited while the guards took their stations around the perimeter of the courtyard.

  Escanor went directly to Aris's statue and circled it slowly, running his fingers over its smooth stone. When he came to where the tail barb punctured his stomach, he winced visibly and turned away, craning his neck to address the kneeling giant.

  "Very lifelike," he said. Though Escanor had spent three days in bed recovering from the removal of the phaerimm egg, he showed no sign of weakness. "I could swear it's moving."

  "Thank you," Aris said. "That means much, coming from you."

  "In truth, I am so fond of it I would like it for my villa," Escanor said. He motioned an unarmored servant forward. "Mees will pay whatever you think fair."

  "Pay?" Aris seemed to puzzle over this for a moment, then said, "Unfortunately, I have already promised this piece to Hadrhune."

  A collective gasp went up from the entourage, then Escanor snapped, "To Hadrhune?"

  "For the Most High, Esteemed Prince," Malik said quickly. "Though I am sure Aris can make another in no time at all, especially considering that price is of little concern." "Another?" Aris echoed. "Why should there be two?"

  "There are many good reasons," Malik said, daring to rise and start toward Escanor's entourage without permission. "I'll tell them all to you later, but first let me speak with the prince's steward."

  Escanor motioned his guards to stand down and glared at the little man as he crossed the courtyard. When Malik had nearly reached the steward, the prince said, "Malik, would you really want to affront the Most High by copying a palace treasure?"

  Malik's face went pale. He began to stammer an apology, but Escanor waved him silent and started across the courtyard, motioning for the others to rise. "Seeing the statue was only one of the reasons I asked to show you the way to the palace." He stopped in front of Vala and took her hands in his own. "I wanted to thank you for saving my life. Rapha tells me you were really quite the trazt fiend."

  Vala actually blushed, and Galaeron instantly resented the way her green eyes held the prince's gaze.

  "It was nothing," she said, leaving her hands in Escanor's. "Your attacker was distracted."

  Galaeron edged closer to Vala. "You turned away at the wrong time, Prince, or you could have killed it yourself while it was teleport-dazed."

  "Yes, a pity I could not read your mind," Escanor said, fixing his coppery gaze on Galaeron and releasing Vala's hands. "You were right to hold the phaerimm in the cavern. It would have been dangerous to let them escape with the secret of the Splicing."

  Leaving Galaeron to fume, Escanor turned to face Ruha. "You are the Harper pursuing Malik?" "I am."

  Escanor regarded the little man as though he found this difficult to believe. "Is he really such a terrible criminal?"

  "It would not do to underestimate him, Prince," Ruha said. "Those who do often pay for the mistake with their lives."

  This drew a fang-filled smirk from Escanor. "Then I am glad you are here to watch him, Harper, but mark well Hadrhune's warning-Malik has committed no crime in this city, and if he does, it will be our justice that settles the matter."

  Ruha inclined her head. "My only desire is to see that he does no more harm than he already has."

  "Good." Escanor turned to Vala and gestured toward the gate. "If you and your friends care to accompany Galaeron, it would please the Most High for you to see the palace this morning."

  Vala nodded and started forward. Galaeron stepped to her side, making sure to place himself between her and Escanor as the others closed around them. Whether the prince noticed the maneuver was impossible to say, but Vala's frown was unmistakable.

  As the entourage left the gate, she leaned in close and whispered, "Your shadow is showing, Galaeron. What do you think is going to happen?" "Nothing I can help."

  A twinkle came to Vala's green eyes, and she surprised him by smiling. "So you are jealous."

  "Elves don't feel jealousy-and even if we did, there's nothing to be jealous about," he said. Though the feelings they shared for each other had grown too strong to hide over the last few months, Galaeron remained reluctant to act on them. Not only was Vala a human who would grow old before his eyes, she had promised to stay with him only until his shadow crisis ended-or she was forced to end it for him. After that, she would be returning to her son in Vaasa, and Galaeron did not think a few months of love worth the heartbreak of watching her leave-that was going to be hard enough already. "I don't want you to forget your promise." "Why would I?" Vala asked.

  Galaeron shrugged. "Because the prince is powerful and wealthy, and you humans have such a weakness for fleeting pleasures."

  "Galaeron," she said, shaking her head wearily, "fleeting pleasures are not weaknesses! They're the stuff of life."

  Vala looked away, and the entourage continued up the street. Paved in a duller version of the same black stone that lay in Villa Dusari's courtyard, the avenue was narrow and winding, meandering through a canyon-like labyrinth of dusky buildings so tall that even Aris had to crane his neck to look up at many of the residents who called greetings and fond wishes to Escanor as the procession passed. There were not many side streets, and those that they did intersect always ran uphill to the left and downhill to the right. It slowly grew apparent to Galaeron that they were spiraling up a gentle mound, though one so encrusted in looming structures that its terrain was all but impossible to discern. As they ascended, the villas grew ever larger and more magnificent, eventually becoming so enormous that it required the entourage close to a minute to pass by.

  As they passed one of the largest, a many-spired mansion with flying buttresses and a line of long barrel vaults leading into the shadowed interior, Prince Escanor stopped long enough to wave in its direction.

  "My abode," he said. "I hope you will attend me here soon, when we are not quite so occupied with our war duties."

  Though Escanor took pains to address himself to all his guests, Galaeron-or his shadow-knew that the invitation was meant primarily for Vala. Biting back the urge to suggest that the invitation would come the first time only Vala was free to answer, he merely looked up the street and inquired how much farther it was to the Palace of the Most High. Escanor waved him on. "Not far."

  Indeed it was not. Just past the prince's home, the street opened into a broad hilltop piazza surrounded by similar mansions, all with their grandest entrances facing center. In a ring around the plaza stood a forest of gloom sculptures, all rooted in urns of polished obsidian with a single ribbon of shadow rising in the ever-shifting figure of a Shadovar warrior or wizard. Not far from Escanor's mansion stood the only likeness Galaeron recognized, that of the Shadovar who had helped cause the release of the phaerimm, Melegaunt Tanthul.

  "The Ring of Heroes," Escanor said, waving his hand at the wall of figures. "Everyone represented here died accomplishing some great service to Shade Enclave." "There must thousands!" Vala gasped.

  "Tens of thousands," Escanor said. "Shade Enclave is an ancient city with ancient enemies, and much of our time in the shadow plane was spent defending ourselves from the assaults of the malaugrym."

  "The malaugrym!" Ruha gasped. "Then the phaerimm must seem weak enemies to you, indeed."

  "Different, but not weak. The first rule in the shadow plane is never to underestimate an enemy," Escanor said. He turned to Aris. "If you
wish, I will have someone teach you to read the stories of the gloom sculptures in their changing shapes."

  This drew a rare smile from the giant. "No gift would please me more."

  The prince had only to glance in his steward's direction, and Mees said, "It shall be done this day."

  Escanor nodded and turned to Galaeron. "You are wondering what Melegaunt's story says about you?"

  Galaeron shook his head. "Only if it'll say he's honored for drawing Evereska and Waterdeep into the war against the phaerimm."

  Vala started to hiss a reproach, but Escanor stopped her with a raised hand. "We must expect him to be suspicious." Despite the prince's patient words, the color of his eyes had deepened to angry red. "I think we should hurry to the Most High. Galaeron's shadow is making him foolish as well as distrustful, and that is a bad sign."

  Escanor led them through a hundred paces of gloom sculptures and emerged on the far side of the Ring of Heroes. Directly ahead stood the dusky grandeur of the Palace Most High, its seamless walls fashioned of polished obsidian and its shadowed spires vanishing into the umbral haze above. like so much in Shade Enclave, it seemed all sinuous curves and exaggerated proportions, with a shape that could not be named, nor even held in mind for more than a passing impression. Paying no noticeable attention as a company of Shadovar spell-guards snapped to attention, Escanor steered his entourage into a keel-arched portal so high that Aris barely had to duck his head.

  After passing through a short vaultway, the entryway opened into a vast hall of glassy curves and dusky translucence where every buttress soared into darkness and each corridor vanished into shadow. A hundred or more high-born Shadovar drifted in and out of the doorways, or stood rasping in tight knots of conversation, or sat patiently on the benches along the walls, their gem-colored eyes glowing bright against the murk at their backs. Ignoring the bustle of murmured greetings and inquisitive stares shot the entourage's way as it passed, Escanor marched his group down the center of the floor to a crowded seating area outside an enormous pair of guarded doors.