Cloak of Shadows - Ed Greenwood [45]
There was one small way, however, in which any learned Shadowmaster could call on the power of the gem. One did so now, causing the massive stone to chime softly in its private chamber.
A questing shadow shifted through a doorway and rose up to regard the gem, which chimed again and began to spin slowly, a pulsing light awakening in its lower depths. The watching shadow thickened swiftly as others joined it, and then sharpened suddenly into the large but human face of Dhalgrave. Staring calmly at the gem that no one should have awakened, he asked, "Who is it?"
And from out of the heart of the winking gem, a voice he knew said, "Milhvar of the blood of Malaug, Shadow-master High. There is a plan I must lay before you."
"Say on," Dhalgrave replied, his face and tone unreadable.
"There are other gems like this one in Faerun, hidden away in vaults that have survived since the fall of Netheril. Many more spells sit in grimoires and items all over Toril, and we have seldom dared to seek them out. The deaths that the Simbul caused underscore the prudence of this caution, but our younger blood grows ever more restive, and you rightly chose this opportunity of the godstrife to send them after the Great Foe. Yet I fear not just he, but all of Mystra's Chosen are our foes-as the Simbul is. We stand little chance of survival unless we can find some means of warding off their seeking magic, and the spells they send to slay us. The time is right for us to devote all of our skills-together, not as warring individuals-into crafting a cloak of concealing spells."
The voice paused, and then went on more strongly, "If such a thing can be woven, we could make forays into Faerun and seize the magic long denied to us. If the Chosen confronted us there, we could fight them as equals- and better-and no harm would come to this castle around us. I have heard many kin speculating aloud as to how they'd lure Elminster here, and overwhelm him with our massed might and the power of shadows we can call on. I'd rather not see such a battle, with all its unavoidable damage, occur in our very home." Milhvar's voice fell silent.
"You have my permission and support for all you've said thus far," Dhalgrave said without hesitation, "but I sense you've more to propose. Say on."
"There is a grave danger in this proposal, a danger to one being. You."
"I know this," Dhalgrave replied patiently. "Go on."
"Our trust in each other must soon be absolute," Milhvar said, as casually if he were discussing the weather in Faerun, "and I am prepared to submit to all of the scrying magic you care to use. When the concealing cloak of spells is shown to work against the wrath of one of the Chosen, it must also be demonstrated to all that the Shadowmaster High has the means to remove the cloak without warning, leaving the being who was using it vulnerable, I fear this demonstration will cost us one of our more ambitious-not to say rebellious-younglings. By this action you will reaffirm your power and quell the inevitable moves by the younger blood to go their own ways in the planes, armed with cloaks of our devising."
'Your words please me," Dhalgrave responded. "Will you submit to my probing immediately?"
"Of course," the voice replied. "Bring me through."
The Shadowmaster's head didn't appear to do anything, but the floating gem flashed brightly, and the slim man-form of Milhvar stood beside the pool in the chamber. He opened his mouth to speak, but sudden lightnings raged around him, stiffening him into immobility, and a singing, droning sound awakened in the gem, rising in pitch and volume until it abruptly ceased.
Dhalgrave nodded. "You spoke truth to me. I confess I am surprised and pleased. Your loyalty is rare indeed. Know that I have established scrying links to you that govern your very life. Go now and do as you have proposed. If you need my authority to call your team of spell-crafters together, use it."
"My thanks, Shadowmaster High. You shall not regret this."
Dhalgrave nodded curtly,