Troy Denning: The Siege

"You warmbloods!" he hissed. "Do you all think my lair yours for the entering?"

Namirrha made a show of appearing frightened, stopping to steeple his fingertips together and bow deeply. "A thousand pardons, Sacred One. I was informed that you have been hurling lightning about and thought you might be in need of assistance."

The necromancer cast a meaningful eye at the Shadovar.

"You think I need the assistance of a human?" Malygris sneered. "When that is so, you will scatter my bones across the Blight." "As you command, Sacred One," Namirrha replied.

As Malygris had known he would, the necromancer stroked his amulet, and all of Malygris's anger drained away.

Malygris hated that, really hated it, but there was nothing to be done about it He could no sooner attack Namirrha than he could regrow his long-rotted hide and scales. He was the necromancer's creature from nose-bone to tail-bone, and the fact that the sly old warmblood took pains to make it seem otherwise only added insult to injury.

Still, Malygris found himself saying, "Perhaps you can serve me, however. These shade things-" He flicked a claw in the Shadovar's direction. "-have come with an offer."

Namirrha's white brows rose. "Have they?" He advanced along Malygris's flank-a somewhat long journey that took the better part of a minute-and stopped across from the Shadovar. "And what is it that Shade Enclave wishes to offer Mighty Malygris, Suzerain of the Blight and all its wyrms?"

The two Shadovar glanced at each other, then Clariburnus shrugged and said, "We would be happy to remove the Zhentarim from Anauroch."

"Remove them?" Malygris growled. "What will my followers eat? I would sooner remove you-"

"What harm will it do to hear them out, Sacred One?" Again, Namirrha stroked his amulet, and again a numb calmness descended over Malygris. A smirk came to the necromancer's face, and he asked, "And in return for this small service, what do the Shadovar wish?"

"The service is more than a small one," Brennus said, addressing himself directly to Namirrha, "and so is what we expect in return: peace with the dragons, and their aid in the war against the phaerimm."

Malygris craned his neck to look down at Namirrha. "There is a war against the phaerimm?"

"Have I not suggested that you get out more, Sacred One?" Namirrha replied. "They have escaped their prison and captured the Sharaedim."

"Evereska's Sharaedim?" Malygris snorted in amusement. "The Lasthaven of the elves? Well done, I say. Let them have it!"

Again Namirrha reached for his amulet. Malygris tried to flick a claw out to stop him, but found his foot too heavy, his toe too stiff.

"The matter is not as simple as that, Mighty One," Namirrha said. "The phaerimm pose a danger to us all. Even your shipments have been forced to detour far north or south."

"Ah, the shipments." Though Malygris had no idea what shipments the necromancer meant-and would not have cared lf he did-he found himself nodding sagely. "We mustn't let them interfere with my shipments."

Namirrha smiled at the Shadovar. "If Malygris commits, the host he will bring to this war is without rival. Surely, his aid is worth more than simply driving the Zhentarim from Anauroch." "How much more?" Clariburnus asked.

Namirrha grew serious. "Malygris would like to see them gone-wiped from the face of Faerыn."

"Then let Malygris do it himself, if his host is so mighty," Brennus said. "The Shadovar will not." "Will not?" Namirrha demanded. "Or can not?"

The eyes of both Shadovar flared. "It is the same to you," Brennus growled. "We did not return to Faerыn to fight the Cult of the Dragon's battles for them. If you will not strike a bargain, you may be certain the Zhentarim will."

Namirrha stepped forward, perhaps trusting more than was wise to Malygris's imposing presence to back him up. "Then why aren't you speaking with the Zhentarim instead of me?"

Clariburnus craned his neck to look up. "Because the Zhentarim don't have Malygris."

"If it is my help you seek, then you should have brought gifts," Malygris rumbled, angered at being so obviously cut out of the negotiations. He knew as well as anyone who was in control of him, but he insisted on appearances. He still had that much pride. "You should be begging me."

"There is no need for that, Malygris." Namirrha stroked his accursed amulet "This is something I should negotiate for you." "Fine," Malygris said, and he meant it. The Shadovar said nothing and stared at Namirrha.

Namirrha remained silent for several moments, then nodded and said, "Done." He offered his hand to Brennus. "We have a bargain."

The Shadovar stared at the appendage as though he wasn't quite sure what should be done with it, then glanced over the necromancer's shoulder at Malygris. "The Mighty One will honor the deal?" Namirrha nodded, and stroked his amulet. "Of course."

"Good." Brennus smiled broadly, baring a mouthful of needle-tip fangs that even Malygris had to envy. "Done."

The Shadovar clasped Namirrha's hand then, in a move so swift even Malygris hardly saw it, pulled him forward onto the blade of a glassy black dagger. Namirrha screamed in surprise and tried to call on his servant for help, but the Shadovar's hand was over his mouth in a black blur, and Malygris felt no urge at all to defend the necromancer. Brennus finished the attack by first pushing his black blade down to Namirrha's crotch, then splitting him up the center and letting the two halves of the body fall separately.

When he was done, the accursed amulet was hanging from the back side of his dark blade. This he dropped at Malygris's feet. "There is your gift, Malygris."

Malygris eyed the amulet warily, as he did the bloody mess in which the Shadovar stood. "If you think to ingratiate yourself with your warmblood treachery-"

"We think to avenge the insult he paid us by implying that Shade was not the equal of a piteous bunch of wretches like the Zhentarim," Clariburnus said, "and the insult he paid you as well, in treating the Blue Suzerain like a trained attack dog."

Had Malygris still had lips, he would have smiled. "For that I thank you-but why should I honor the bargain he made? My dragons need Zhents to eat."

"They will have plenty to eat in the war," Brennus said. "That I promise you."

"If you think on it, you will find yourself still bound by Namirrha's promise," Clariburnus said. "You sold yourself to the Cult of the Dragon, and even we princes of Shade cannot free you now."

9 Mirtul, the Year of Wild Magic

Night in Shade Enclave came as a deepening of the general murk, when the air grew heavy and tepid and drew in on itself in inky mist. Galaeron sat on the balcony outside Villa Dusari's master bedchamber, not keeping watch, but watching. Despite the hour, the steady murmur and clatter of passing traffic growled up out of the ebony gloom, just loud enough to keep a company of restless householders from their pillows. Aris was down in the lower warrens of the city, plinking away in his workshop. Ruha was skulking about the house searching for Malik, who was obviously somewhere other than his chamber. Only Vala was in bed, on the other side of the door from where Galaeron sat. She was not sleeping, just staring into the blade of her black sword, a wistful smile on her full lips and a softness in her eyes alien to them during the day.

She was, Galaeron knew, looking in on her son in Vaasa. At night, her darksword often lulled her into a trance and showed her what was happening in the bedchambers of the Granite Tower-'dream walking' she called it, though it was more akin to spying. During their months together, he had learned to read her expression and tell when she was visiting Sheldon. That the sword seemed to be looking in on the boy more often these days was one of few things that made Galaeron think the weapon might not be entirely sinister.