Cloak of Shadows - Ed Greenwood [111]
Another tentacle came cruising up like a hungry shark, and the Shadowmaster hissed a spell in sudden fear and tore free. Wild-eyed, he stumbled quickly back through the wall and restored it to solidity in panting haste.
Sylune laughed soundlessly as she floated above the three Harpers, and thought again about just how much fun it was to go adventuring.
* * * * *
Ancient, deep shadows shifted out of the way with uncaring slowness, drifting in this hidden place like proud old ghosts. They ignored the black-bladed, gleaming new weapons that hung watchfully among them-weapons waiting to flash to the attack and deal death to an intruder who never came.
In an old and ancient chamber that few knew existed, inside that ring of vigilant death, stood the four beings who'd set the enchanted blades to their silent task. One was a black, glistening globule as large as a house, whose only distinctive features were a pair of green-and-black bat wings large enough to have lifted a dragon. It answered to a terse greeting of, "Bheloris." The second was a swift, many-legged lizard whose bulbous head was a thing of a thousand staring eyes, bulging in as many directions. This grotesque cluster was surrounded by a ring of starfish arms ending in snapping mouths, like the maws of snapping turtles, and was greeted as "Yabrant."
The last two Malaugrym, Milhvar and Kostil, stood in their human shapes and confronted each other with soft menace in politely cultured tones.
"Though the cloak seems technically flawless," Kostil commented, "the inexperience of the test subjects and the protection surrounding the Chosen at the locales selected for forays has not only proved fatal to most of the test subjects, it has brought jeopardy on both the secrete of the cloak and on the security of the Malaugrym themselves "
"Oh?" Milhvar asked coolly. "How so?"
"What if one of these Chosen sets up a killing brew of linked-by-contingencies spells, or even memorizes a goodly array of ready combat spells, and uses those belt buckles to trace us? I don't want spell-bombs raging through the castle twice or thrice a day!"
"Yes," Yabrant rumbled. "This foolishness must end."
Milhvar spread his hands smoothly. "But we are so close to achieving our aim and striking down one of the Chosen, a victory we need right now, as a people, to hold up our heads in confidence as we prepare to choose a new Shadowmaster High!"
"Pretty speech," Bheloris said mildly, shifting smoothly toward human appearance and size. "Are you planning to seek the Shadow Throne?"
Milhvar shook his head. All of the Malaugrym in the room knew he wielded greater influence right now than any Shadowmaster High.
Or had wielded it-until now. The thousand-eyed lizard who was Yabrant pressed on. "No, Milhvar, the blood of Malaug aren't close to grasping any victory of consequence. I have watched much and said little these last few months, and I believe it's you who stand close to achieving some personal goal." His voice changed, thinning to the cold clarity of a stabbing knife. "And just what, your elders gathered here would like to know, would that goal be?"
Milhvar shook his head again. "You are mistaken. My aims lie in perfecting ever-more-powerful shadow magic, and my progress in this is a very slow thing, not something whose achievements are near or within my-or any being's-grasp."
"So you have pretended, these last ten years," Yabrant went on, his body slowly shifting in shape toward a human build and size, "as you've played the role of studious but dangerously capable mage, but I know you to be more than that. Much more than that. What, for instance, befell that priest of Mystra you captured? You slew him, didn't you? To work one of the forbidden magics, no doubt. What is it, Milhvar? Human shape or dragon shape at will? Breeding with baatezu? The ability to control the minds of our young, and to expel the minds of the old from their bodies, leaving the husks for your allies to seize and control?"
Milhvar's face changed subtly, and Yabrant