Paul Kemp: Shadowbred

Shadows swirled around him like a cloak.

Cale realized immediately that the Shadovar was a shade.

"Mister Cale!" Tamlin said. "You are returned safely. Is Endren-?"

"Endren is safe," Cale said, eyeing the Shadovar and closing the distance. "But you are in danger." He looked at the ambassador. "Step away from him."

Cale moved around the table toward the ambassador and five Shadovar bodyguards-shades, like their master-materialized out of the darkness to cut off Cale's approach. Their hands went for wide blades. Cale had forgotten Thriistin's mention of the guards but it did not matter. He walked the shadow space and in a single stride found himself behind the bodyguards and eye to eye with the golden-eyed Shadovar ambassador.

"Mister Cale!" Tamlin said.

"Gods," Vees Talendar said.

The shadows around the ambassador flared into a protective shroud; the shadows around Cale responded, leaping outward toward the Shadovar. Energy crackled where the shadows touched.

The ambassador's expression showed no fear. His voice was steady and cold. "The hulorn is in no danger from me." He held up a dark hand to halt whatever the bodyguards might have intended.

"No, not anymore," Cale said, and brandished Weaveshear.

The ambassador cocked his head. He said softly, "You are a shade," and his gaze moved for an instant to Vees Talendar. "Strange that I have not heard of this earlier."

"Magadon Kest," Cale said. "You have him. Where is he?"

The ambassador said, "Magadon is a friend of yours, I assume?"

Cale grabbed the Shadovar by his finery and almost jerked him from his feet with one hand. The shadows around the two men spat purple sparks.

The Shadovar bodyguards appeared around them, blades at the ready.

The ambassador's eyes showed brewing anger but he shook his head and the bodyguards did nothing.

"It is fortunate for you that we are where we are," the ambassador said.

"What is going on here?" Tamlin demanded, circling the two so he could see Cale's face. "Mister Cale? Cease immediately."

Riven moved around the table into Cale's field of vision, eyeing the Shadovar. Three of the bodyguards turned to face him, shadows swirling around them. Riven chuckled.

The three Shadovar, as silent as shadows, spread out for combat.

Cale glared into the ambassador's face. "If anyone dies in this room, I promise that you will be among them."

The Shadovar's face hardened. Shadows as black as midnight streamed from his flesh, swirled around Cale.

"You are playing a dangerous game, child."

"Mister Cale!" Tamlin said. "You are assaulting an ally of Selgaunt and an ambassador of a foreign state." To the Helms standing in the doorway, Tamlin said, "Arrest him."

"Stand your ground," Cale said, and did not hear the Helms advance.

"You seem tense," Riven taunted the Shadovar, turning a circle in their midst, feinting to elicit movement. "What color is your blood, I wonder?"

"The same as yours," the ambassador called to Riven. "We are men, as you. And we are allies of your lord."

"He's not my lord," Riven said with contempt.

"Unhand him, Erevis," Tamlin said. "Now. This is Rivalen Tanthul, a prince of Shade Enclave, and his people are Selgaunt's ally."

Rivalen nodded at Cale. "I arranged the attack on Yhaunn so you could succeed in your rescue of Endren. Is that not evidence of where my loyalties lie?"

Cale shook his head. "It is evidence only that you are a skillful liar. I do not know your game, but I know your like."

Rivalen's eyes narrowed. The room darkened.

"Release him, Erevis," Tamlin said. "And apologize. You are in the wrong."

"Very in the wrong," Rivalen said softly.

Riven scoffed.

"Erevis?" Tamlin said.

"Fear not, Lord Hulorn," Rivalen said. "This is a trifling matter."

Despite his reassuring words, his eyes smoldered. "Mister Cale does not understand that Magadon is no prisoner. He is performing a service for us. Voluntarily."

Cale reluctantly let Rivalen go, though he still held Weaveshear at the ready.

Riven spat on the floor of the great hall and said, "A lie."

Cale nodded. "You lie."

"Tell him the nature of the service," Tamlin said to Rivalen.

"You will forgive me, Hulorn, but the matter does not concern Selgaunt or Sembia at this time."

Tamlin seemed at a loss for words.

"Bring him to me," Cale demanded. "Now."

Rivalen's eyes flared. He studied Cale's face. "I will take you to him, if you wish."

Cale smelled the trap but had little choice. He needed to learn where Magadon was being kept.

"No," he said. "You tell me where he is and we will go ourselves. I have my own methods of travel."

Rivalen stared into Cale's eyes. Cale answered with his own stare.

"He is in Sakkors," the Shadovar said.

"I'm unfamiliar with-" Tamlin started to say.

Cale held Weaveshear's point at Rivalen's chest. "Sakkors is three hundred fathoms under the Sea of Fallen Stars."

"Not anymore," Rivalen answered. "See it for yourself, shadeling. The enclave's name should be enough to allow you to use the Fringe to take you there. Scry it first if you wish. There are no wards to stop you."

Cale studied the shade's face, seeking the lie. He could determine nothing; Rivalen's face was a mask. He looked to Riven, who said, "We can kill them all now and figure it out afterward."

Cale smiled at the thought. The Shadovar bodyguards tensed. Leather creaked. Armor clinked.

"Sheathe your weapons," Tamlin commanded. "Do it. Now."

Cale ignored him, as did Riven, as did the Shadovar bodyguards.

Cale stared into Rivalen's face and leaned in close. "Know my mind, shade. If you have harmed him, I will kill you."

"Know mine, shadeling," Rivalen answered. "You live only because of my respect for the Hulorn. Were we not in his presence, things would be otherwise."

"Yap, yap, little dog," Riven said, and Cale saw real anger behind Rivalen's eyes.

Cale stared into Rivalen's face and saw the familiar dead space behind the shade's eyes-like Cale, Riven, and Nayan, Rivalen had a killer's eyes.

Cale knew with certainty what would happen in Sakkors. The Shadovar would not turn Magadon over to him, not willingly.

"We go," Cale said to Riven, and both of them backed away. To Tamlin, Cale said, "You are allied with serpents, my lord."

Tamlin snapped, "No. I have done the only thing that can preserve this city. You are dismissed, Mister Cale. Do not return."

"You are making a mistake," Cale said to Tamlin.

"I am correcting one."

Cale's hand twitched but he resisted the urge to knock Tamlin down.

"You shame your father," he said, and Tamlin blanched.

Cale had knocked him down after all.

The darkness in the room deepened as Cale and the Shadovar drew it about them. Each stared at the other as they started to meld with the shadows, each making the other hard promises.

Cale tightened his grip on Weaveshear and thought of Sakkors. When he felt the correspondence, he moved himself and Riven there.

Chunks of stone fly off with each strike of the pickaxe. I make rapid progress. The stink of brimstone and rot grow worse but I dare not open the door for ventilation. The fears are still outside. I strike the wall again and again, drowning out the sound of the fears, quelling my own. The sweat freezes on my skin, the air is so cold.

"Hit it, Magadon," encourages the voice. "You are almost through! Hit it!"

The fissure in the stone grows deeper and wider. I strike it again, again. The wall crumbles under my onslaught, the debris gathering around my feet, the dust filling the air of the cell.

At last I pierce it and the head of the pickaxe pokes through to the other side.

Orange light rushes into the room, a blast of air so frigid it burns. There follows the sound of screams, and smells like a thousand graveyards. I gag, recoil, vomit.