Marsheila Rockwell - Skein of Shadows

But there had to be a way. Her mission couldn’t end like this.

“The spyglass-” she whispered, before remembering that it had been Jester’s. Cursing inwardly, she inched closer to the edge of the rocky shelf to get a better look.

From here, Sabira could see that the wall traveled straight for a distance, then angled off to the right and left.

“An octagon,” Greddark breathed beside her, and she realized he was right. Though they could only see three of the eight walls, the angles the stone edifices made with one another could form no other shape.

“Eight walls, eight gates. Eight locks?”

“And us with no key,” he replied.

She turned her head to look at Xujil.

“And Tilde’s in there somewhere? You’re sure?”

The drow nodded solemnly.

“If she still lives, she is there.”

“So how did you get in the first time? Disguise yourselves as locals? Scale the walls? Invisibility?” She already knew that Tilde hadn’t used teleportation, but she couldn’t really see the sorceress being able to pull off any of those things successfully, not even making herself invisible. If the road outside was any indication, the city was just too crowded; Tilde would be exposed in no time.

Which is probably why she’d gotten caught.

“We did not enter the city,” Xujil replied. “What she sought was not there. But I cannot guide you where she went, for only a mage can tread that path.”

And that meant they had no choice but to free Tilde, because they couldn’t get to the artifact without her. Not that Sabira had ever intended to do anything else, despite what Breven wanted. Because it wasn’t what he wanted that mattered to her.

She looked at Greddark.

“Please tell me you have some nifty artificer trick or crazy invention that will get us through those gates.”

The dwarf gave her a sly smile.

“As a matter of fact, I think I do.”

Mol, Rhaan 2, 998 YK

Tarath Marad, Xen’drik.

Xujil led them back through the web-filled passageway and down towards the city. On the way, Greddark explained his plan in quiet tones.

“When I was a student at the Tower of the Twelve, I invented a planar doorway. There were already spells that could bypass physical and magical barriers, but I wanted one that could do both at once. It opens up a portal through whatever material the wall is made from-stone, wood, metal. Then it shifts you to another plane as you pass through, which circumvents any magical impediments, and returns you instantly to your starting plane once you reach the other side of the barrier. It’s ingenious, really-”

“-if you do say so yourself-” Sabira interjected under her breath, but Greddark continued on as if he hadn’t heard.

“-as long as you’re prepared for what you find on whatever plane you shift to.”

Sabira raised an eyebrow.

“I sense a story there.”

Greddark’s expression turned grim.

“The doorway is opened with a byeshk dagger. I lent it to a fellow student who wasn’t ready for what she encountered on the other side.”

His regretful tone jarred a memory from earlier in their trip.

“The Medani who died? The one ir’Dayne was talking about back in Sharn?”

“Yes.”

Sabira digested that for a moment.

“So what are we going to find on the other side?” she asked.

“A floating city in the plane of Syrania. If we’re lucky.”

“And if we’re not?”

Greddark’s grin returned, albeit somewhat more subdued.

“That’s what feather fall tokens are for.”

They continued on in tomblike silence after that, Xujil warning them that they were nearing the tunnels that led to the cavern, and the city it held. Though they had seen many people moving on the road, the passageways remained empty.

“Where is everyone?” Sabira asked, breaking Xujil’s edict because, while she was glad they hadn’t yet had to fight off any She-worshiping drow, the mere fact that they hadn’t was suspect.

“We have arrived at the beginning of the Holy of the She, a three-day ceremony that culminates in the sacrifice of the Spinner’s enemies. All those who worship Her must return to Her city by midday. At that time, the gates are barred, and Her children are let loose to roam the cavern, devouring those whose lack of faith is evidenced by a similar lack of punctuality.”

At Sabira’s disbelieving look, the drow shrugged.

“I did encourage you to hurry.”

“So how long do we have until the gates close?”

Xujil cocked his head to the side, considering.

“Perhaps as much as an hour?”

As much as that? Lovely.

“Then why are you taking us the long way around?” Greddark demanded, frowning at the drow’s revelation. To Sabira, he added, “If we’re heading for the gate we saw from above, we’re going in the wrong direction.”

Sabira looked over at the drow expectantly, certain he’d have some logical and not entirely pleasant explanation. He always did.

“We cannot approach by that road. That gate is for drow only; we would be apprehended immediately. We must use the Slave Road. If you wear your hoods up and we cover your exposed skin with mud, your size is such that you should be able to pass as my duergar slaves long enough for us to near the walls.”

Somehow, Sabira was certain the drow would enjoy that little charade.

“Why don’t we just mingle with what’s left of the crowds and go in through the gate, then?” she asked. While Greddark’s inventions had worked well so far, crossing between planes was a risky proposition and a malfunction at the wrong time would be worse than deadly. If there was an easier way in, even if it was only marginally safer, they should take it.

“The Guardians Above,” Xujil answered. It took Sabira a moment to realize he meant the giant red-eyed spiders.

“Perhaps they would not notice the dwarf-his blood is near enough that of a duergar, so they might not mark him as an enemy. But they would certainly notice a human.”

Sabira carefully kept her gaze away from Greddark. She didn’t want to see his face at being so casually likened to a gray dwarf.

“So the drow we saw them eat earlier, that was one of your people, trying to infiltrate the city?”

Xujil blinked.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps the guardian was merely hungry.”

Even lovelier.

“So we masquerade as duergar until we get near the walls, and then what?” Greddark asked, still bristling over the drow’s unintended insult. At least, Sabira thought it was unintended. With Xujil, she couldn’t really be sure. “They’ll definitely notice if we walk up to the gate and then don’t go through.”

“There are tents outside the Slave Gate for slavers and traders who are not allowed in the city. Their occupants will have fled to avoid the children of the Spinner. We can hide there until the gates are closed, then use the planar doorway to enter the city unobserved.”

“And what about those ‘children?’ ” the dwarf pressed. “What exactly are they, and how long do we have until they show up?”

“The Guardians Above are Her children,” Xujil replied, as though that should have been self-evident. “When the gates are closed, they roam free.”

“Oh, so about the time it takes to be skewered, then,” Greddark muttered. He added something under his breath in Dwarven. She recognized the saying, one that loosely translated to: “If the Host makes it easy on you, it’s because they think you’re incompetent.”

It didn’t take them much longer to reach the end of the tunnel. Before exiting into the cavern, they removed their goggles and mixed the last of their water with gray dirt from the tunnel floor, forming a thick paste. Then Sabira and Greddark spread the mixture over their hands and faces, stepping back when they were done to regard one another critically. At first glance, as long as their heads were covered, they might look like gray dwarves, especially if that’s what you were expecting to see. The illusion was completed when they grudgingly handed their weapons over to Xujil and let him bind their arms loosely with ropes.