Cloak of Shadows - Ed Greenwood [20]
"Well said, Yabrant," Kostil commented politely, taking a glass from the grasp of a paralyzed slave creature as it drifted past. He sipped delicately at the bubbling mint-green contents, his eyes shifting to match the hue of the drink, and turned to stroll away.
"You think so?" Taernil hissed, face white with fury, al-most spitting the words in his rising rage. "You agree with him?"
"Why not? He's right," Kostil said serenely, walking unhurriedly off across the marble floor.
The helm-headed giant guffawed, and the recovering Malaugrym mage stiffened, turned, and snarled, "You too, Eldargh?"
The giant sighed and rose up to the full height of his snakelike lower body. He looked down at the young mage expressionlessly for a moment before he muttered, "Mature a little, Taernil. You're overdue for it," and slithered away into the shadows.
"All is not lost, lad," Bheloris said suddenly, stepping from behind a nearby leaning pillar shrouded in spiraling shadows. "You've learned something of value to us all."
"Oh?" Taernil asked bitterly, wary of more sarcastic criticism, his eyes on the grave admiring face of Huerbara as she approached.
"The spells he used against you told us all that you faced Elminster." He inclined his head toward the scrying portal. "Yonder is no false image or impostor, but a servant of Mystra."
Taernil's eyes narrowed.
Bheloris smiled ruefully. "Don't believe me?" He swept a hand at the shadows around. "They believe. See them go to work on their spells and schemes, now they know truly who they face?" Taernil turned to look at the misty gloom where the far reaches of the Great Hall of the Throne faded away to limits unseen, and saw his kin walking away, some drawn together in excited groups, others striding briskly.
The young Malaugrym drew himself up with something like pride in his eyes. "They are, aren't they?" His eyes flashed. "I traded spells with Elminster-and lived," he said quietly.
"Well, I wouldn't preen overmuch about that," Bheloris said mildly. "I've done that myself, as have most of us who style ourselves Shadowmaster. It's one of the ways we measured ourselves, when the kin were more rash… and more numerous." He turned to look at the scrying portal. "Why, I reca-"
The scrying portal flashed blindingly and burst into bubbling motes of light. There came a rumbling that shook every Malaugrym there, and the floor of the Great Hall-the very castle itself-heaved, shook, and tilted slowly and ponderously to one side for a moment. Abruptly, a score or more scrying portals burst into bright being here and there around the hall as an ancient web of spells responded wildly. The awed Taernil and Huerbara clutched each other instinctively, staring around, and were shocked to see naked fear on the faces of elder Shadowmasters as the legion of serenely floating portals showed them all the bright flash of something huge and fiery slashing through the sky of distant Faerun. The shadows all around them rocked again, to the sound of many thunders, and someone screamed, "Elminster! The Doom is upon us!"
Someone else shouted, "Flee! Flee, or the House of Malaug is lost!"
"Not So!" roared a voice that echoed and re-echoed from every stone, goblet, and pillar of that vast chamber. Dhalgrave's voice shook with fury, and Malaugrym all over the hall cowered at the sound.
"This is no work of our foe, but something greater! Look, all of you, and behold: The gods of Faerun are come, descending upon their worshipers in wrath. The land is torn! Look well, for this may be our best chance to seize as much of Toril as we can!"
Even as that great voice rolled out over them, one of the scrying portals burst into sudden blue-white fire, causing the nearest Shadowmaster to leap away from it and frantically shapeshift into something winged, flap-ping untidily in its haste. The