Curse of the Shadowmage - Mark Anthony [75]
The air in the chamber was chill. The room lay deep in the ground, where frost never loosened its cold grip on the soil, even in the warm months of summer. Walls, floor, and ceiling were all lined with seamless black marble flecked with crimson and gold. The door through which they had entered had vanished. Morhion ran a hand across one wall. The stone was so slick it felt almost oily, though it left no residue on his fingers.
"Can't you cast some spell to get us out of here; Morhion?" Mari asked, her face drawn.
"I am afraid not. The walls have been infused with a powerful ward against magic." Morhion frowned thoughtfully.
"This stone seems familiar to me, but I can't remember where I've seen it before."
"Beneath Iriaebor, in the crypt of the Shadowking."
Morhion turned to gaze sharply at Kellen. The boy ran a small hand over a dark column that looked as if it had been poured rather than carved. "There was stone just like this in the tomb below the city. I remember."
Kellen was right. That was where Morhion had noticed the strangely slick marble before. It explained the aura of magical resistance that emanated from the stone. The crypt of the Shadowking had been permeated by just such an aura. But why was the same stone in this chamber?
The mage drew in a sharp breath. "Stiletto has been using the Shadowstar."
The others stared at him. Before they could reply, a sharp sound shattered the silence. Cracks appeared in one wall, outlining the hidden door. The portal flew open. A dozen thieves slipped into the chamber, as dark and seemingly fluid as the strange marble, positioning themselves around the perimeter of the room. A figure clad from head to toe in a robe of flowing black silk stepped through the doorway. His shadow, cast by wavering torchlight, loomed larger than life on the wall behind him.
Morhion whispered the word. "Stiletto."
"I see inntroductions will not be necessary," the one called Stiletto said, his raspy voice muffled by the dark cowl that concealed his face. "For I certainly know the great mage Morhion Gen'dahar." The dark cowl regarded each of the others in turn. "And here with him is Mari Al'maren, lately of the Harpers-but no longer I hear. And Kellen Caldorien, son of renowned Harper Caledan Caldorien. And Cormik One-Eye, proprietor of the Prince and Pauper in Iriaebor. And of course Jewel Talondim, the enchanting matriarch of the illustrious Talondim clan." Morhion had not expected Stiletto to know them. It seemed the underworld lord was omniscient as well as all-powerful.
"Why have you journeyed here seeking me?" Stiletto demanded.
The mage allowed himself a grim smile. "You know so much about us, Stiletto. Surely you know that as well?"
"Perhaps I already do, and merely wish to see if you will lie to me," the dark-robed man snapped, but his words came too hastily, suggesting that in truth he did not know their purpose.
"Wait a minute," Mari said suspiciously, her eyes narrowing as she studied Stiletto. "I can see how an underworld lord might know his rivals, like Cormik One-Eye and Jewel Talondim. And I can even see how he might keep track of Harper agents and those who work with them, which would explain why you know me and Morhion." She took a step forward. "But it doesn't make any sense that you would know the identity of an eleven-vear-old boy."
At those words, Morhion forgot the armed thieves surrounding them. Mari was right. Curiosity burned in his brain as he advanced on Stiletto. "Who are you?" he demanded in a low voice.
Stiletto began an indignant reply, but he never finished it.
Kellen whistled three sharp notes of music and stretched out an arm. On the wall, the silhouette of his hand touched the shadow cast by Stiletto. Kellen flexed his fingers and Stiletto's cowl was jerked back, revealing his startled visage. The crime lord was a small, weasely man with close-cropped brown hair, darting eyes, and crooked teeth. He grinned sheepishly as the companions stared in astonishment.