Cloak of Shadows - Ed Greenwood [118]
"Fair fortune, Chosen of Mystra," the stone said, sinking swiftly toward the soft pelts on the floor. Storm caught it deftly and tossed it onto the bed, sighing loudly before she turned away.
* * * * *
Berdusk, Twilight Hall, Kythorn 20
The deep emerald eyes of High Lady Cylyria Dragonbreast were troubled as she turned away from her own stone. Storm did hate to use the speaking stone. Something must be very much amiss.
With gods walking Faerun, magic going wild everywhere, and every petty brigand and marauding orc chieftain on the march from here to the Moonshaes, the Harpers-nay, the good folk of all Faerun-couldn't afford to lose Elminster.
Her fine features were grim as she struck the little gong built into the head of her bed, took the speaking stone into her hands to keep it from rolling to the floor and shattering, and got up off the bed. Then she smiled at the sound of pounding feet growing swiftly louder down the passage outside. My, but Harper boys were enthusiastic.
* * * * *
The Castle of Shadows, Kythorn 20
"It's… impressive," Shar said softly, and meant it. They stared down together from the circular balcony that ringed the dome. In the open space below, amid endlessly roiling, glowing blue shadows, a circle of black magical flames-blazing away consuming nothing and never burning out-encircled a shrouded, floating human form.
"Forgive me," Itharr said to the Malaugrym, "but who was Glyorgh?"
"The closest friend of Malaug, a sorcerer of Faerun who was the first to embrace the way of shadows," Bheloris replied. "He has rested here, in magical stasis, for longer than men have dwelt in any of the Dragonreach lands."
"Where is Malaug's tomb?" Belkram asked quietly.
"No one knows," the Shadowmaster replied. "There are even legends among us that he never died but lives on still, on other planes or in hidden guise somewhere nearby, watching us."
Belkram and Itharr exchanged glances and shuddered together. More impressive still.
The mood was broken when a hitherto hidden door opened a little way along the balcony, and a youngish-looking man ran toward them, his shapeshifting blood betrayed only by the wormlike flexibility of his arms, wriggling at the elbows in apparent distress.
"Is this Malaug now?" Belkram asked lightly, earning a hard look from the Shadowmaster.
"Bheloris," the newcomer said sharply, after a swift, searching glance at the three rangers and a second, involuntary one at Shar and her sword, "you must come. Ahorga's looking for Milhvar. He's-"
"Enough, Neleyd," the Shadowmaster said quickly. "You can tell me as we go to him." He turned. "My deep regrets, friends," he said, leaving his mouth behind on a tentacle as he rushed to the door. "If you follow me out this door and take the first stair down on the right, the third door on the left opens into the Lute Gallery."
"Thanks!" Sharantyr said hurriedly as the mouth sped away from them. "Itharr-the door!"
"Aye," the Harper said, diving for it. He got there before it could close and leaned against the door frame, looking swiftly ahead and then back at Shar and Belkram. "Well?" he asked.
Shar was looking at Belkram, and Belkram was leaning forward over the rail, looking down at the floating body of Glyorgh. "No, Belkram," Shar said firmly. "Come on."
Belkram looked at her, eyes bright. "But…"
"No, Belkram," Shar said, taking him by the arm and towing him toward the door. He sighed once as they went out and down the stairs. "What's the appeal of this Lute Gallery, anyway?"
"Enchantments are supposed to play soothing music there all the time," Sharantyr told him. "Many Malaugrym go there to relax… strolling about, thinking. Didn't you listen to Amdramnar?"
"Yes, and I didn't hear anything about traps waiting for me in the Red Chamber," Belkram replied, "so I wouldn't place overmuch credence in what he said, if I were hurrying along through the castle."
"My, Belkram, that's the wisest thing you've said in days!" a voice said unexpectedly from Sharantyr's breast.
"Sylune!" they