Paul Kemp: Shadowbred

"What other matters?" Rivalen asked.

Telamont smiled enigmatically. "You have my permission, Rivalen." He clasped his hands behind his back and floated back to the wall map.

Rivalen followed, thoughtful.

"We should proceed with the raising and reconstruction of Sakkors," the most high said. "Your brothers Yder and Clariburnus should lead the effort while you and Brennus pursue this mind mage."

"As you wish, Most High."

"Yder and Clariburnus are to use all resources at our disposal. I want the city rebuilt within the month."

"Yes, Most High."

A month would be an ambitious timeline, but with magic and slave labor-especially that of the krinth, a strong but dull race born of slaves and shadow demons-it could be done.

Rivalen stood at his father's shoulder and studied the map. It showed Sembia centermost: roads, cities, towns, temples, all clearly marked. Rivalen had long advocated moving against Sembia, a rich realm with fertile upcountry farmland and several southern ports.

Rivalen had discussed the plan with his father at length, had planted the roots of Sembia's overthrow long ago, even before Shade Enclave had returned from the Plane of Shadow. Rivalen controlled cells of Sharrans in almost all of Sembia's major cities.

The most high said, "The Heartlands are ripe, Rivalen. The Rage of Dragons has weakened them. Drought has weakened them. The Rain of Fire has weakened them. Their internal political squabbles and this elven Return have weakened them. We must not let them rot on the vine."

"Most High?" Rivalen asked, not daring to hope.

Telamont continued, "We have spent over a year scrabbling in the dirt, looking for trinkets from the empire while we sought alliances with the child kings who now rule Faerun. Wasted efforts, I think. Do you agree?"

Rivalen licked his lips and carefully worded his reply. "We have recovered what magic there is to recover from the ruins of the empire, Father. That time is past. And our attempts at diplomacy have been met with scorn and mistrust. Cormyr and Evereska still blame us for the depredations of the phaerimm. The elves that have returned to Cormanthor gather strength while we speak. The time for diplomacy, too, seems past."

The most high gestured at the map, indicating all of Faerun with a wave of his arm. "Faerun is covered by petty realms ruled by petty kings, little better than the Rengarth tribesmen who once peopled the lands under the flying cities of the empire. Even the elves have degenerated into barbarism. What have any of them accomplished since the Fall? The Empire of Netheril gave them the pinnacle of magic, arts, and science, and they preserved none of it." His father faced him, his platinum eyes aglow. His voice softened. "What is now Sembia once was called Arnothoi by the elves. Did you know that, Rivalen? It was all rolling forest and grassy meadows."

"I did, Most High." Rivalen's collection included a coin of magically preserved, polished wood from Arnothoi. He knew the elven realm's history.

The most high pointed to upcountry Sembia, not far from Daerlun. A wisp of shadow spiraled from his fingertip and kissed the map. "I walked a meadow there with Alashar, long ago. A stream divided it in two. Goldslips covered the banks. Your mother loved how the flowers looked in the sun."

Uncomfortable, Rivalen said nothing. His father seldom waxed sentimental, and the subject of Rivalen's mother, Alashar, always made him squirm. Rivalen had murdered her, after all.

Telamont exhaled a cloud of darkness. "Let the Sakkoran mythallar be the last artifact of old Netheril that we seek. Trying to resurrect the old empire is a fool's task. Instead, we will build a new one. Do you agree?"

"You know my thoughts on this, Most High."

"You have prepared the way in Sembia, yes?"

"All is ready, Most High. "

"Proceed, then."

A thrill went through Rivalen and he saw Shar's will made manifest in the news. "Shar favors your course, Father."

The most high's eyes narrowed. "She has given you signs?"

Rivalen's hand went to the holy symbol around his neck. "Yes. Ever since Variance recovered The Leaves of One Night, the Lady has been generous with her favor."

Variance Amatick was Rivalen's underpriestess and archivist, second only to Rivalen in Shar's hierarchy in Shade Enclave. Over a year and a half earlier, she had recovered a lost book long sought by Shar's faithful-The Leaves of One Night. Rivalen purported to have locked it away in the temple's vault. In truth, he bore it with him always. The book revealed Shar's one moment of weakness. Most of the faithful believed that the moment had passed long ago; Rivalen knew that it had not yet occurred. But that was a secret he kept to himself.

Telamont said, "If Shar has spoken to you clearly, Rivalen, inform me of her words."

"You know I should not," Rivalen answered. "The Lady's secrets are for the ears of her high priest. Forgive me, but that is the way of her faith, Father. Of your faith."

The most high's eyes flared.

"I am the Most High, Rivalen. And your father."

Rivalen did not quail. "I am her high priest and servant."

"You are also a servant of the most high," said a voice from behind them-Hadrhune's sibilant, reptilian voice. Rivalen turned to see Telamont's chief counselor rise from one of the parlor's chairs, dripping shadows. He clutched his ever-present darkstaff in his hand.

Rivalen had not noticed him upon entering. He wondered if Hadrhune had been in the room the entire time.

Hadrhune continued. "Your loyalty is to the most high first, Rivalen Tanthul. To Shade Enclave second, and to your goddess only third. Or so it should be."

Rivalen glared. "A false choice, Hadrhune. The interests of all three are aligned."

Hadrhune smiled. "I wonder what would happen should they become misaligned? What would you do, Prince?"

Rivalen held Hadrhune's gaze. "I would never allow them to become misaligned."

"So you say," Hadrhune said, and waved a hand dismissively.

"Enough, Hadrhune," Telamont commanded. "Rivalen, enough."

Both men stared at one another but bowed before the most high's anger. Rivalen's father went on. "We must respect my son's religious zeal. He answers to what he believes to be a higher calling. Isn't that so, Rivalen? Shar has called you to a greater purpose, has she not?"

Rivalen stared at Hadrhune and nodded.

"And Hadrhune seeks only to serve me and this city."

"As do I," Rivalen said tightly.

Telamont nodded and shadows flowed from him. "The time has come to build a new Empire of Netheril. See it done, Rivalen. Find this mind mage first, if you must. But see it done."

"As you wish, Most High."

Rivalen gave Hadrhune a final look and turned to leave. As he walked from the parlor, he realized that he had been standing in the room at the very moment when a new Netherese Empire had been conceived. He gave Shar praise and thanks.

Now he had one man to kill and another to capture.

29 Eleint, the Year of Lightning Storms

Rivalen and Brennus stood in the doorway of a scrying chamber in Brennus's mansion. Shadows cloaked the room, cloaked the brothers. Rivalen had decided to do the killing before the capturing.

A domed ceiling of dusky quartz capped the scrying chamber, and the starlight that crept timidly through did little to dispel the murk. No moonlight marred the darkness. Selune was new, in hiding, as if she knew what was to come.

Rivalen brushed his fingers over the enameled black disc that served as his holy symbol. He wished the Lady's eyes to be upon him, so he pronounced a bit of her liturgy into the room.

"In the darkness of night, we hear the whisper of the void."

"Heed its words," answered Brennus.