Tangled webs - Elaine Cunningham [65]
Semmonemily was a doppelganger, a shape shifting being able to adopt any form it chose. By taking the place of the slain courier, the doppelganger could retum to Waterdeep with altered missives.
The creature was one of the baron's most valued allies. The other was the wizened scribe seated at the writing table, bottles of valious-hued inks before him and quill poised. This scribe was also a shapeshifter of sorts, for he could perfectly duplicate the writing of any man alive. As Khaufros spoke, the scribe bent over his parchment, transmuting the original messages into unimpeachable copies, subtly changed to reflect the baron's will.
information was power; that was the basic tenet of the Kraken Society. But those who wished to know true power understood that it was not enough to gather informationone had to control it. And, upon occasion, create it.
Shakti Hunzrin was becoming accustomed to annoying disruptions. Since the day she had entered Triel's service as traitor-priestess, she had been expected to attend the Baenre matron's every whim. But this night's summons was by far the most abrupt and the most unusual.
The Black Death ofNarbondel, the dark hour of midnight and the time when Menzoberranzan's magical timepiece was enchanted anew, had come and passed. Shakti had been comfortably asleep in her bedchamber, her door guarded by vigilant golems she'd enspelled to ensure that her dreamless slumber would end with the coming of the new day. Such precautions were not unusual among future matrons who had no wish to mysteriously die in their sleep.
But this night the stone guardians did not attend their given task. Shakti awoke with a start, literally shaken from slumber by one of her own golems. Its stone fingers closed around her upper arms; its impassive stone eyes retumed her startled gaze.
Then she was hauled out of bed and thrust toward a glowing door that had appeared in the center of the bedchamber. Before she could so much as curse the offending golem, the thing gave her a shove that sent her reeling through the luminous gate.
Shakti landed on her rump, her night robe hiked up around her plump thighs and her hair flying in wild disarray around her furious face. By the Mask ofVhaeraun, she vowed grimly, Triel would pay for this indignity!
"Welcome, priestess," said a cold and unexpectedly masculine voice.
The Hunzrin priestess froze. She knew that voice, as did all of Menzoberranzan. Those who cared to listen heard it every day, when the archmage celebrated the darkest hour by casting a spell of renewal upon Narbondel. But what, she wondered with extreme foreboding, did Gromph Baenre want with her? And by all that was dark and holy, how many Baenres would she be forced to endure?
"i am delighted to entertain one of my daughter Liriers former classmates. Please, take a seat," Gromph continued, his manner an ironic parody of the gracious host. "i'm sure you can find one that is more to your liking than that carpet." Shakti scrambled up and smoothed her robe decently back into place. Mustering all the dignity she could, she seated herself across from the archmage's polished table. Never had she been so close to the dreaded Gromph Baenre, and only with great effort did she refrain from staring. He was an exceptionally handsome male, young and vital in appearance despite his reputed seven centuries of ill-spent life. His eyes were of the same rare amber hue as his daughter's, but Shakti had never seen that expression of icy calculation in Liriers golden eyes. The wizard reached for a bellpull on the wall. "Will you have wine? Or tea?"
"Nothing, thank you," Shakti retumed flatly. His polite manner was a subtle but obvious form of mockery, and the proud priestess bitterly resented any male-however powerful-taking his amusement at her expense. "i would not presume to take so much of your time."
" Gromph laced his fingers and placed them on the table before him. "You fit my sister's