Cloak of Shadows - Ed Greenwood [112]
"And that," Bheloris said grimly, "is punishable by death." A barbed strangling wire suddenly appeared in his hands; it flashed as he brought it down…
… around a throat that wasn't there. Milhvar had called on the most precious garment he wore-the real cloak of shadows-and silently faded away.
The three elders looked at each other.
"Right now, he's the true Shadowmaster High," Yabrant said angrily.
"He always was," Kostil replied quietly. "He always was."
* * * * *
The cloak spun him through shadows with swift ease, to a place he had chosen beforehand. It had gone badly, as badly as he'd anticipated… but not as badly as he'd feared and prepared for.
Milhvar stiffened as a chime sounded behind him, and whirled around. Then he smiled slowly. Hanging in the stasis field he'd set to catch intruders was an unlikely looking visitor: the floating, disembodied head of Old Elminster. The head was watching him.
"Ah, yes," he said pleasantly, "I should have expected you, once your young rabble showed up just walking around our castle. You've been watching all along, haven't you? Laughing at us, to boot. Well, that'll end right now."
He whispered a word, and white fires suddenly streamed around the head, beginning nowhere in the air before it and dying away nowhere in the air behind it. Milhvar leaned forward to grin through the silent, cool, rushing flames at the unseeing eyes.
"Yes," he said softly, knowing a certain distant wizard could hear him. "It's a spell loop. I suspect even the great Elminster won't be able to break free for quite some time. And by then," he said archly, knowing what a cliche it was, " 'twill be too late. Much too late."
19
But a Grand Place to Skulk About
The Castle of Shadows, Kythorn 20
The door chimed discreetly once, and then Amdramnar's gentle voice issued from it. "Are you awake, friends?"
"We are. Please come in," Belkram called merrily. Half-clad, crossed arms shielding herself, Shar stared at him in indignant astonishment. He stuffed her into the top half of her leathers with blinding speed, earning more than one angry growl of promised revenge from her as he merrily laced and snugged, and finished by chucking her briskly under the chin.
"Crude, Belk," Itharr told him, as the door opened. "You're always so crude."
"Ah, but I get the job done," Belkram replied with a smile. "And at the end of the day…"
"It's the crudity I remember," Shar said crisply, taking the blue sword into her hand and waving it meaningfully.
"In hearty spirits, I see," their host said with a smile, as he set down steaming platters of broth flanked by crescent-shaped toasted rolls slathered in butter.
"You've got more hearty spirits in your cellar? All that drinking we did last night was for naught?" Belkram asked almost reproachfully.
Amdramnar gave this sally a delighted grin. "This is fun. I must tell you all, I've really enjoyed hearing jests and clever words with every third breath of the day. It's something… rare in the Castle of Shadows."
"You get tired of it," Sharantyr told him flatly. "Really you do."
The Shadowmaster spread his hands. "Perhaps after years together, I might, but I've had barely more than an evening to enjoy your company so far."
"We'll be happy to stay with you again this night, if you'll have us," Shar said firmly, "but we'd like to see more of this wondrous castle today. May we wander it freely?"
Their host grimaced and then reluctantly nodded. "With care, yes," he said. "Speak to others with deference, I urge you, and tell them you're… my allies, if questioned. Do not mention Elminster or the goddess Mystra, and I strongly advise you to refuse all duels, no matter what the provocation. Nor should you surrender that sword." He nodded at the faintly glowing blade in Sharantyr's hands, and then at the plate before her. "But eat first, and drink deep. Water and food will be scarce as you wander. Meals are taken privately among my kin, never consumed in banquets or at set times.