Ed Greenwood - Cloak of Shadows

The three rangers could well believe it. They moved in close around Amdramnar to ensure they wouldn't get separated. It would be a terrible thing to wander here, lost and alone.

It was an eerie place. Night dark and tinged with purple, the tattered shadows slid past, shaping eyeless faces, prancing unicorns, and trees whose whispering leaves were human hands, all grasping and grabbing.

Sharantyr shuddered, shifted the saddlebag on her shoulder, and hefted the comforting weight of the blade Mystra had given her. Its glow was dull here, and moisture clouded its steely length. More than once she turned it sharply behind her to menace the unseen source of some half-heard sound-a slithering or the thuds of monstrous footfalls-but there was never anything visible through the endlessly boiling mists.

Shadows. Just what were they, anyway?

"Amdramnar," she said carefully, almost stumbling over the unfamiliar name, "what are these shadows? You speak of them almost with reverence."

"Not here," the Shadowmaster replied quickly. "We'll talk of this in my chambers. It's no secret that some of my kin believe that only two sorts of beings should know the ways of shadow-those of the blood of Malaug… and the dead."

An old and ornate stair post of black stone loomed up out of the mists, and beyond it a flight of steps climbed an unseen wall. They ascended, Shar grimacing at the carvings on the post as she passed. It was ringed with chained human maidens, bodies bare and mouths open in endless silent wails of despair. The stair itself seemed to moan as they trod its worn, mist-shrouded steps. From time to time, a step would glow with awakened magical light as they stepped on it. Uneasily the three companions went on, wondering just when their guide's treachery would come, and what fatal form it would take.

"What's that?" Itharr snapped, at a sudden movement on the stair ahead. Beads of light swam out of the shadows like a string of little lanterns, slid across their path, and plunged over the stair rail into the shadows of the Well. They watched the glimmering radiances plunge into the falling darkness where the dreamshadows spun-and then burst, one by one.

"Just shadow at play," Amdramnar said with a shrug. "There are a lot of things around here that even our elders can't explain. The shadows are alive, you see."

Blackstaff Tower, Waterdeep, Kythorn 19

"Alustriel's back chambers first, my tower next. It certainly seems as if the Malaugrym are visiting Chosen.'

Elminster frowned at the Lord Mage of Waterdeep, and they stroked their beards in unison. Laeral stifled a giggle at the sight.

"Aye, so much is obvious," the Old Mage agreed slowly, "but why have they sent such young dolts? Zhentarim may test their younglings in order to kill them off, but not everyone is that stupid. Why plan for almost inescapable failure?"

"Perhaps they're not testing the Malaugrym, but something else," Laeral offered. "Something they mistrust, so they'll risk only the young-and enthusiastic-to try it. That would square with what befell me."

Khelben and Elminster turned their heads and lifted an eyebrow each, in perfect unison. Laeral managed not even to smile this time.

"Befell you?" Khelben prompted, which was unusual impatience for him. Beneath that calm gravity, he must be excited.

"I could not see who attacked us, until the wild magic broke over them," Laeral reminded him gently. "The spell attack, yes, but it seemed to be born from empty air, not a foe. What I could see of the bedchamber beyond the doorway seemed empty, and the body of the Malaugrym should have blocked all view of the bedchamber from me."

"A cloaking magic, then," Elminster said, nodding. They're testing something that hides them from us."

"And only us," Laeral added. "The 'prentices could see the Malaugrym normally. Poor Ushard may just have been distracted."

"His attention was permanently elsewhere," Khelben said darkly.

"It certainly is now," Elminster agreed, his lips twisting into a mirthless smile. "Servants and guards readily saw the Malaugrym who got into the palace in Silvery-moon, too. So this cloak is set against us-the Chosen. The 'how' we can wonder about later, and the answer to 'why now' is almost certainly to take advantage of chaos across the Realms, so guards won't be guarding and watchers not watching-"

"And great power walks the land for those who can devise some way of taking it," Laeral reminded them.

Khelben looked at her. "I doubt I'm archmage enough to tear divine powers from an avatar, master them, and hold on to them-and most of the Malaugrym aren't half the wizards we are."

"Ah, but we're not half the arrogant dancing idiots they are," Elminster told him, a bleak smile growing on his face. "That's what they'll be after, all right, the ambitious ones. The older, craftier ones will probably settle for sliding into Faerun and taking over a kingdom here and a region there, by slaying kings and envoys and taking their shapes, using this cloak to hide themselves from our prying eyes."

"They might have picked a quieter time in the Realms," Khelben said grimly.

"But they did not, love, and 'twas ever thus," Laeral replied quietly, "and you know it."

"Yes," Khelben growled, getting to his feet. Floating in the air across the chamber, the nearest of his blackstaves moaned in sympathy. He glanced at its pattern of winking lights to be sure that nothing was amiss and then looked down at Elminster. "If that cloak works," he growled, "they'll be able to hide from us with impunity. They'll come after us to slay us, one by one and time after time, until Tymora smiles upon them. We've got to find out just who knows how to raise the cloak, and destroy them and all their work so that no clever Malaugrym or other foe coming along later can craft other cloaks."

"It's not the best season for touring the Castle of Shadows," Elminster murmured with the beginnings of a smile on his face, "but I may already have eyes and ears-if not much else-there."

Laeral gave him a look. "I'd not call those Harpers and the lady Knight of yours little more than eyes and ears," she said reprovingly.

"Nor would I," Elminster agreed. "I meant something else."

Khelben gave him a look of failing patience and asked, "What, O grand and mysterious one?"

"Well, 'tis often said ye must get a head in this world…" Elminster began innocently. Laeral, who knew what was coming, nudged his ribs with one shapely boot and groaned.

The Castle of Shadows, Kythorn 19

"Wine?" Amdramnar held out the slim, fluted bottle, but three heads were shaking firmly.

"No, thank you," Shar said calmly, her fingers laced about the hilt of her still-drawn sword as she sat with its point grounded on her boot. "We're not thirsty."

The Malaugrym half-smiled. "Inform me when that situation changes, please," he said smoothly, as a velvet-shrouded seat glided up out of the floor behind him. "I can assure you that whatever I offer will be safe to consume."

He poured himself a glass and sat, adding, "Hard as you may find it to believe, trust is something that can grow between us."

"Well, then," Belkram said, a trifle less smoothly, leaning forward in his seat, "perhaps we can begin by trading information."

"An excellent idea," the Malaugrym said, growing another hand. As they watched, fascinated-for it looked identical to his other limbs and to their own-it deftly took his wineglass, leaving his other hands free to gesture. "Pray state what it is you'd like to know, and what you offer in trade for it."

"Who and what the Malaugrym are," Itharr said calmly, "and what your folk intend to do in the-in Faerun."

Amdramnar nodded. "An inquiry bound to touch on sensitive areas before it is done. And for such lore you will give me-?"

"Tongue-fencing is not a sport all of us here favor," Sharantyr told him bluntly. "What do you want to know?"