by Lisa Smedman
"To where? A city ruled by these?" Seldszar snatched one of his crystals out of the air, focused it on Lolth's temple in Menzoberranzan, and held it up for Urlryn to see. Inside the tiny sphere, a priestess moved through a temple nursery, her snake-headed whip driving a terrified gaggle of children ahead of her. One male slipped on his own blood, fell-and continued to be whipped, long after his small body had stopped twitching.
Urlryn's lip curled.
Seldszar flicked the sphere back into orbit. "Even if we chose to flee, it would only be a temporary measure. Our visitor said the effect would spread across all of Faerun. Throughout the Underdark. There's nowhere to run to. Save for the World Above. And that's somewhere, I'm sure, neither you nor I would ever choose to live."
"There must be a way out of this," Urlryn said. "We just haven't seen it yet."
Seldszar glanced at his fellow master, eyes glittering. "I'd like to show you something. Indulge me, if you would. Transpose us."
The other master looked puzzled. "As you wish." He moved a few paces away from Seldszar, then held up his hand. "Ready?"
Seldszar nodded.
Urlryn stared at Seldszar's feet, then snapped his fingers. Instantly, the two swapped places. Urlryn stood next to the water clock, his body shimmering with faerie fire. Seldszar peered back at him through his own veil of pale-green sparkles.
"Again," Seldszar demanded.
With a whispered word, Urlryn magically swapped their positions a second time.
"Again."
By the third translocation, both mages were covered head to toe in glittering faerie fire. Urlryn, squinting, threw up his hands. "Enough! What does this prove?"
Seldszar held out his arms and turned in a slow circle. "What do you observe?"
Urlryn squinted against the glare of the faerie fire that surrounded him. He waved a hand in front of his face, as if trying to shoo away a gnat. "Not much, thanks to this."
"Yes, but note the color. Your faerie fire is a deep blue. Mine, a pale green."
"Signifying?"
"Indulge me a moment more. Summon faerie fire intentionally, this time. See if you can make it violet, instead."
Urlryn spoke a brief incantation and traced a finger through the air. The water inside the clock was suddenly illuminated from within by motes of indigo. A frown of concentration on his forehead, he shifted the hue to a lighter blue, then to green, then back to blue again and finally to a purplish shade.
"As I thought," Seldszar said. "You can consciously manifest faerie fire in any shade you wish, but the involuntary manifestations are limited to your habitual color."
Urlryn stared at Seldszar." 'Habitual color.' That's a term I haven't heard before."
Seldszar smiled. "It's one I came up with a few years back. A little academic, but it will serve. Ask a drow to evoke faerie fire, and he'll habitually manifest a particular color. The same color, I'll wager, that he's involuntarily manifesting now." He gestured at the unconscious mages. "Were we to wake one of them up and repeat the experiment I just performed, you'd see the same thing. The faerie fire he manifests when asked to cast a divination or to teleport will match whatever his habitual color is."
Seldszar snatched one of his crystals from the air. "Observe the mages of my college."
Urlryn moved closer and peered into the crystal. Within it, blue faerie fire crackled around the head of one wizard as he cast a spell, and green around the hands of another. Still other mages emitted lavender or purple hues when casting their divinations.
Seldszar tossed the sphere into orbit again. "There's a hypothesis I've been researching for some time. That Faerzress and faerie fire are one and the same thing. Hence, the odd spelling. 'Faerie' instead of 'fairy.' It wasn't originally 'faerie fire,' but 'Faerzress fire.' "
Urlryn folded his arms. "You mean to tell me that every drow on Toril has Faerzress energy inside him? Not just those in Sshamath? Did Yithzin and Chal'dzar's spell extend that far?"
"I don't think so," Seldszar said. "But it looks as though every drow-spellcaster or not-can channel that energy. Act as a conduit for it. Our race is linked with it, somehow."
"That would explain why drow are the only ones affected by the augmentation of the Faerzress." Urlryn paced back and forth. "But why would Kiaransalee's cult-if they are indeed behind this-instigate something that would hamstring every drow on Toril? What purpose would that serve?"
"Who knows?" Seldszar shook his head. "From the little I've heard of Kiaransalee's worship, that goddess is even more crazed than Lolth. Perhaps this is Kiaransalee's version of the Silence."
"A 'web of silence,' " the other master said, quoting the ancient song. " 'And at its center, death.' " He looked up.
"So how does your deeper understanding of 'Faerzress fire' help us?"
"It doesn't-unless we can find a way to break the link between drow and Faerzress energy."
"A difficult undertaking," Urlryn observed.
"Yes. One that may take months-even years. Time we don't have." Seldszar locked his eyes on the other master. "Which is why I asked you here today. I propose an alliance of our two colleges. Pooling our respective talents is our best hope at finding the answer before it's too late. You will share with me the fruits of whatever your sages might discover-and I will do the same, with you." He paused. "Well? Will you agree to it?"
"I will." Urlryn bowed, his stomach straining the front of his vest. "You have my word on it."
A quick glance at the discernment sphere-which had darkened, but only slightly-told Seldszar the other master was telling the truth, for the most part. He would cooperate. For now.
"I thank you for your time," Seldszar told Urlryn. "And your ear. It's comforting to know that another master shares my concerns."
*****
"Q'arlynd, what a pleasant surprise," Qilue said. "I had wondered if I would see you again. Your departure from the Promenade a year and a half ago was somewhat… abrupt."
Q'arlynd, Eldrinn and the other two diviners bowed as the high priestesses entered the room. Qilue was just as imposing-and beautiful-as Q'arlynd remembered. "I apologize for that, Lady Qilue, but I had pressing business elsewhere," he said as he rose from his bow.
"You wound up in Sshamath, Miverra tells me."
"The city of wizards suits me, Lady. I've made my home there." This wouldn't be news to Qilue. She would have scried him after he left the Promenade. Several times since then, the back of his neck had prickled, telling him that someone was looking at him from afar. Of course, that could have been Master Seldszar.
"Miverra also told me you've founded a school of wizardry there. Are these your apprentices?"
Q'arlynd noted-without directly looking at Eldrinn-that the boy's shoulders tensed. The other two wizards Master Seldszar had chosen for this mission were listening closely; they would have already noted the time Q'arlynd and Eldrinn had been spending together, and would wonder if the son was planning to step out from his father's shadow.
Q'arlynd smiled. "Having a school recognized as a college is the dream of every wizard in Sshamath," he said smoothly. "As for my 'school,' it's little more than a salon. A gathering of friends of the master's young son, here." He spread his hands. "I teach them what I can."
Qilue's eyes locked on his. "Teleportation?"
"Among other things."
"You were very good at it, as I recall."
Q'arlynd tipped his head.
He wondered if the teleport he'd just performed had been a test, either of the Promenade's defenses or of the degree to which the increase in Faerzress energy was affecting Sshamath. Perhaps both. He supposed he'd passed. Despite the faerie fire that had erupted when he'd cast his spell, it had been a relatively easy jump. It helped that the room Miverra had shown him in her scrying was quite a distinctive chamber: circular, its walls ribbed with arched columns that met overhead, and with only the one exit. The floor was inlaid with thousands of chips of colored stone: a mosaic that showed drow females practicin
g swordplay.
Qilue turned to the wizards who had accompanied him. "I am Lady Qilue, high priestess of the Promenade, Chosen of Mystra. And these mages are…?"
Q'arlynd gestured at their most senior member. "Khorl Krissellian, sorcerer and farseer."
Khorl was a sun elf with pale skin and off-white hair. As he stepped forward and returned Qilue's bow, his age-seamed face betrayed just a hint of haughtiness. He was nearly four centuries old and had lived the bulk of his life in Sshamath. Long enough to dress like a drow and be just as scheming, yet he still ranked drow one notch below the "true" elven race.
His greeting, slow and deep, was entirely cordial, however. "Lady Qilue, Chosen of Mystra. It is indeed an honor to meet the one about whom I have heard so many wondrous tales." The magical amulets on the fringes of his piwafwi tinkled as he rose.
Q'arlynd introduced the second mage. "Daffir the Prescient."
"Madam," Daffir said, bowing. He was a human from the south, his skin nearly as dark as a drow's. He was bald, whip-thin, and as tall as Qilue. Dark oval lenses hovered just in front of his eyes, hiding them. He leaned on the staff Eldrinn had been holding when Q'arlynd found him on the High Moor. The fact that another wizard had been allowed to carry it out of the city proved just how seriously Master Seldszar took their mission; the staff was one of his most treasured possessions. Next to his son, of course.
"A human and a sun elf," Qilue' said. "Wise choices for where you're headed."
Q'arlynd nodded. "Our third member is Eldrinn Elpragh, also of the College of Divination."
Eldrinn bowed. "Will you lead the expedition, Lady Qilue?"
The high priestess shook her head. "I have pressing business that requires my presence here in the Promenade." As she spoke, her right hand drifted toward her hip to the place where a sword would normally hang, then halted as if she'd just realized she was unarmed. A curious gesture.
"I wanted to meet you all in person, and to thank you for joining our expedition," Qilue continued. "Please come with me. I wish to speak to all of its members before you depart."
Q'arlynd and the others followed her through the door. She led them deeper into the building, which turned out to be a barracks. They passed several closed doors. The sound of voices raised in song filled the area-predominantly female voices, underscored by a handful of deeper male voices.
Eventually the corridor ended at massive double doors that opened onto a large, rectangular marshalling hall. Shields hung on the longer walls, while crossed swords were mounted above each doorway. The vaulted ceiling's carved central beam resembled a crescent moon resting on its points. Yet it wasn't the architecture that caught Q'arlynd's eye. Three drow stood at the center of the hall, glancing around as if they too had just arrived there.
Two were male, one female. One of them, Q'arlynd immediately recognized: Gilkriz, one of the senior wizards of Sshamath's College of Conjuration and Summoning. Beak-nosed, Gilkriz stood with arms folded, his ring-bedecked fingers restlessly drumming against his cloth-of-gold sleeves. A gold skullcap adorned his shaven head.
Q'arlynd tucked a hand under one arm, nudged Eldrinn with his elbow and spoke in sign with his hidden hand. What's he doing here? And who are the other two?
Eldrinn answered in kind. Don't worry. Father warned me about this. They'll be working with us.
Q'arlynd had to damp down his irritation. Eldrinn should have told him this before now.
Khorl glanced sidelong at Eldrinn, as if looking for a cue to hang his reaction on. Daffir only nodded to himself, as if he'd been expecting this.
Eldrinn squared his shoulders and strode to where the other wizards stood. "Gilkriz," he said with a polite nod. "Glad to see you here. Urlryn chose wisely." He turned to the others, nodding at each in turn. "Jyzrill. Mazeer. Good to have you along, also."
Q'arlynd hid his wince. The boy was trying to take charge but doing a less than convincing job of it. He was too young, his movements too uncertain.
Jyzrill, an unusually short male with a pointed chin and a deep scowl that would have been more in place on a dwarf, muttered a greeting. The other mage, Mazeer, stood with hands on hips, forearms bristling with wands that were shoved into a two specially designed bracers. Her voice was silky as she returned Eldrinn's greeting, but her eyes remained cold as steel.
Gilkriz ignored Eldrinn. He turned to the other diviners and smiled, revealing gold-capped teeth. "Khorl. Daffir. So glad you'll be helping out with this one." He turned to Q'arlynd. "And…"
Eldrinn answered before Q'arlynd could. "Q'arlynd Melarn, originally of Ched Nasad. A prominent battle mage from that city who joined our college more than a year ago-an addition which obviously escaped your notice."
Q'arlynd gave a slight nod-just enough to be polite.
"Ah yes," Gilkriz said. "I remember now. Isn't this the wizard who rescued you after your disastrous journey to the surface? The trip that left you a feeblewit?" His derisive chuckle was echoed by the slight twist of Jyzrill's and Mazeer's lips.
Eldrinn's nostrils flared. "I-"
"Say nothing, Eldrinn," Q'arlynd interrupted. "They're trying to learn now what their spies failed to uncover earlier. One of their wizards probably faces a similar problem, himself-and they don't know what to do about it."
Eldrinn had the good sense to smile knowingly.
Voices filled the space behind them. Q'arlynd glanced back at the double doors where Qilue still stood. Striding through them was a statuesque female Q'arlynd recognized at once: Cavatina, slayer of Selvetarm. Six females followed her: five drow and surprisingly, a halfling who wore the full vestments of Eilistraee's faith. The priestesses deferred to Cavatina with every gesture, their expressions filled with awe.
Mixed into the priestesses' ranks were an equal number of Nightshadows: six in all. Though the males walked with the priestesses, they conveyed the impression of being separate from them. They kept sneaking glances at Cavatina-their expressions wary rather than worshipful.
Q'arlynd was instantly on alert. He scanned the Nightshadows' faces, looking for signs that any had recognized him, but the glances they gave him were bland. They paid no more attention to him than they did to any of the other mages.
The thin, muscular male was obviously the Nightshadows' leader. He was dressed all in black. A mask covered much of his face. An old scar puckered his left eye. His long stride compelled Cavatina to speed up in order to keep ahead of him.
Q'arlynd gave a mental head shake. Just like the wizards, the clerics and priestesses were trying to one-up each other. Factions within factions.
He glanced at Qilue. As always, her expression was impassive. She watched the newcomers sort themselves out. Then she shut the double doors and strode to the front of the hall.
Aside from Cavatina-and Daffir, whose height made him tower above the drow males-Qilue was the tallest in the room. When she held her hands above her head, the murmurs fell away.
"A song of welcome," she ordered, "for the mages of Sshamath."
The females broke into song. The male clerics joined in a heartbeat later. They sang in low voices, as if unused to talking above a whisper. Their leader studied the wizards as he sang. He actually met their eyes-a rarity, for a Nightshadow.
When the song ended, Qilue nodded at Cavatina. "For most of you, the priestess who will lead this expedition needs no introduction. But those from Sshamath may not know her." She waved Cavatina forward. "The Darksong Knight Cavatina, slayer of Selvetarm."
Q'arlynd glanced at his fellow mages. Their lips parted slightly, their eyes widened. Only Khorl remained unmoved. Eldrinn stared like a smitten house boy until Q'arlynd nudged him.
Cavatina, poised as a statue, glanced down her nose at the group. Her eyes briefly lingered on Q'arlynd-she obviously recognized him-but she made no move to acknowledge him.
Qilue stepped back a pace. "Cavatina will tell you what lies ahead. May the Masked Lady bless you all and watch over you." That said, she vanished.
Q'a
rlynd was tempted to pull his crystal out of his pocket and sneak a glance through it to see if the high priestess had really teleported away-or if she lingered nearby, watching invisibly-but that was only idle curiosity. He studied Cavatina instead. He'd met her only briefly, nearly two years ago. He wanted to get a sense of what she'd be like as a leader.
The Darksong Knight was not one to waste time with formal greetings. "You all know our mission," she told them. "To halt whatever's augmenting the Faerzress. We believe the cause to lie within Kiaransalee's Acropolis. That's what has prompted our decision to attack it."
Q'arlynd's eyebrows rose. He caught Eldrinn's eye. Attack? he signed, down where no one else would see it.
Eldrinn gave a slight shrug.
Q'arlynd glanced at Gilkriz. The conjurer's eyebrows had drawn together slightly. Gilkriz was hiding it, for the most part, but he seemed as surprised by Cavatina's choice of words as Q'arlynd had been. He, too, must have been told it was merely a scouting mission.
"We leave tonight, as soon as Selune has risen," Cavatina continued. "We'll be using the Moonspring Portal. Those of you who haven't used it before should note that it involves immersion in water. If you're carrying scrolls or equipment that will be harmed by a dunking, either find a way to protect them or leave them behind." She paused. "And if any of you can't swim, now's the time to say so. We'll be emerging into a lake. A deep lake."
"The Moondeep," said the Nightshadow that the others deferred to. He stepped forward a pace, shoulder to shoulder with Cavatina. "Northeast of the Moondeep Sea, in the Deep Wastes. Several leagues from our destination. Teleportation isn't possible where we're going, so be prepared for a long hike."
"Thank you, Karas," Cavatina said, easing in front of him. "I'll take it from here."
She snapped her fingers, and a drift disc hissed into the room. The group parted, letting it pass through their ranks. It slid to a stop in front of Cavatina. She tugged on the edge of the shield-sized disc and turned it to the vertical. Q'arlynd saw that it was engraved with a map. With the point of her sword, Cavatina gestured at an irregularly shaped oval.
