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Malvag shook his head. “I wasn’t speaking of his avatar. I was speaking of Vhaeraun himself.”

Jezz laughed openly. “Let me guess. You’re going to replicate the Time of Troubles and force Vhaeraun to walk Toril in physical form by using ‘high magic.’” He rolled his eyes. “You’re mad. You must think yourself the equal of Ao.”

Malvag locked eyes with the cripple. “When did I ever mention a summoning—or Toril, for that matter?” he asked in a steely voice. He shook his head. “I have something entirely different in mind. The scroll I possess will enable us to open a gate between Vhaeraun’s domain and that of another god. A back door, if you will, that the Masked Lord can use to sneak out of Ellaniath undetected.”

“To what end?” one of the others asked.

“The assassination,” Malvag said slowly, “of another god.”

All eyes were locked on him. “Which one?” one of the Nightshadows asked.

“Corellon Larethian.” Malvag let his smile crinkle the corners of his eyes. “The death of the lord of the Seldarine should give the army of Myth Drannor pause, don’t you agree?”

The Nightshadows exchanged excited glances. Jezz, however, slowly shook his head. “Let me get this straight,” he said. “You want to open a gate between Vhaeraun’s domain and Arvandor?”

Malvag nodded.

“A gate that might very well work in the reverse direction to the one you describe, allowing the Seldarine to invade Vhaeraun’s domain, instead of the other way around.” He shifted his weight, favoring his crippled leg. One hand drifted near the hilt of his kukri. “This makes me wonder which god you really do serve.”

Eyes darted back and forth between Jezz and Malvag. The other males drew slightly apart from the sorcerer, giving him room for whatever treachery he planned.

Malvag made no move. “What do you mean?”

“You’re neither Jaelre nor Auzkovyn. You appeared among us a year ago from out of nowhere, claiming to be from the south, around the same time that the demon-thing started slaughtering our people. Now you propose something which, assuming it is possible, may very well be the death of the Masked Lord. I ask again, which god do you really serve?”

Malvag stood utterly still, not making any threatening moves. “They should have called you Jezz the Suspicious,” he drawled, “not Jezz the Lame.”

One of the males from House Auzkovyn chuckled softly.

Jezz’s eyes narrowed still further. “I think you’re a spider kisser.”

Eyes widened. Malvag heard several sharp intakes of breath.

“You call me a traitor?” he whispered. “You think me a servant of Lolth?” He curled the fingers of his right hand then suddenly flipped it palm-up. The sign for a dead spider. “This, for the spider bitch. If I worship her, may she strike me dead for blaspheming.”

As nervous chuckles filled the air, Malvag added, “I’m a loyal servant of Vhaeraun—a shadow in the Night Above—as are all of you.” He paused. “Well … almost all of you,” he added, his glance lingering on Jezz’s naked face.

He held it for several moments then tore his gaze away. “Some of us, it seems, think Corellon Larethian too high a mark for the Masked Lord to aim for,” he told the others, giving Jezz the kind of disdainful glance one would reserve for a coward, “so let me propose an alternative. Instead of Arvandor, we’ll use the scroll to open a gate to Eilistraee’s domain.” He chuckled. “Wouldn’t it be a wonderful turnabout if the Masked Lord took Eilistraee down? Her priestesses have stolen enough of our people in recent years. I think it’s Vhaeraun’s turn to take the lead in that dance. Permanently.”

Low laughter greeted his joke.

Jezz glared. “This is not a laughing matter. You’re talking about tampering with the domains of the gods.”

“True,” Malvag said, his expression serious once more, “which is why I came prepared to show how serious I am about this. Realizing that some might be … reluctant to tackle Arvandor, I began my preparations for opening a gate to Eilistraee’s domain instead.”

He reached behind his head and untied his