Cloak of Shadows - Ed Greenwood [115]
* * * * *
The Castle of Shadows, Kythorn 20
"This must be the Red Chamber," Belkram announced unnecessarily as he strode into the room in front of them.
Sharantyr stayed where she was, gazing around in amazed wonder at a high-ceilinged room as large as the feasting halls of most proud palaces of Faerun. Every surface-walls, floor, and ceiling-was entirely covered in what looked like red plush velvet. She'd never seen a room decorated in such poor taste, but it looked grand and impressive when done so completely and on such a large scale. "Gods," she murmured, "it looks like the inside of some gigantic beast's stomach."
Belkram spun around. "Do you mind?" he complained, waving his arms. "After I step well into it, d'you have to say something like that?"
The lady Knight sighed. "Belt up," she said calmly, "and put that sword away. You might hit someone with it."
"Well, that is the general idea," he agreed, "but-"
"Belkram," she said in silken warning. "Now."
"Well, as you state your view so eloquently and persuasively," the handsome Harper said innocently, returning his blade to its scabbard with a gentle flourish, "perhaps there is something in what you say."
Sharantyr turned dangerous eyes to her other companion. "Well," she asked mildly, "do you have something inane and clever to unburden yourself of at this time? If so, may we hear it and get it out of the way?"
Itharr dropped his eyes from surveying distant corners of the ceiling and said briefly, "A fascinating room, decorated in-Early Bordello, do you think, Belk?"
"I frequent bordellos only when the hour is late," his friend replied smoothly, "but-"
"How do you put up with them, gracious lady?"
They all whirled around. The speaker was a tall man with an elegant moustache and rich robes, who seemed to be melting and flowing out of the wall. Sharantyr eyed that movement of matter with a frown, then raised her eyes to meet his own dark and solemn gaze.
"I manage," she said, lifting her shoulders in a shrug. "And you, sir, are-?"
"Charmed to make your acquaintance," the Malaugrym replied, dropping into a smooth bow. As he straightened up, his mouth crooked and he said in a stage whisper to Itharr, "You see? That's how to do it." He waved a dismissive hand at Itharr's leveled sword and added, "And it's Late Bordello, definitely."
"I bow to your superior experience in these matters," Itharr said urbanely, and did so.
The sword in Sharantyr's hands hummed then, and all eyes went to it. She waited until the Shadowmaster's gaze went sideways to her own, and said, "I am Sharantyr of Shadowdale, Knight of Myth Drannor. Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?"
"Bheloris," the shapeshifter replied, "of this castle. One of the elders of my kin." A half-smile of sadness rose onto his face as the blue blade lifted to menace him. "I am not," he added mildly, "disposed to offer you violence… now or at any other time." He eyed the two Harpers, who were watching him tensely with hands on weapons, and added, "That is not a view shared, I'm afraid, by many of the blood of Malaug." He strode forward, gesturing to indicate his intended passage through them. "May I?"
The three rangers parted to let him pass, and Bheloris walked calmly past them, into the soft red heart of the chamber. "I should warn you," he added, "that such fangs as you carry will avail you little against the magic most of us could hurl your way here in the castle. Smooth words and an air of gentle menace will carry you farther."
"Why are y- Are you curious about us, too?" Shar asked him, one eyebrow lifted.
"Of course," the Shadowmaster replied. "So, if you will, I'll accompany you about our halls. Amdramnar must be crazed-or more cruel than I thought-not to have escorted you himself."
"I don't know if I want an escort," Sharantyr said carefully.
"You do," Bheloris told her gravely, "or you will, if you think about it calmly for a moment. Could you handle an attack from an archmage who struck from the other end of this chamber? A being who could melt away into the