sounded as though the whole city were screaming as one. Shade was falling…
Zossimus, paralyzed with pain and terror, waited for the impact that would kill them all.
After a few terrifying heartbeats, the city's descent slowed, slowed more, then stopped all together. It took another heartbeat for Zossimus, still disconcerted, to deduce what had happened.
Shadow magic. The disappearance of the Weave had not affected the Shadow Weave. The Twelve Princes must have been drawing on it to save Shade, to keep it from crashing to earth. Even as that thought hit him, Zossimus could see in his mind's eye the other floating cities of Netheril plunging earthward as the magic that held them aloft failed. Their apocalypse would happen in the bright light of the sun, while Shade's salvation would occur in eternal twilight, because of the eternal twilight. Netheril's other floating cities, once testimony to the awesome power of Netherese arcanists, would be nothing more than grandiose tombs for tens of thousands.
The city began again to descend, slower this time. Zossimus's sense of satisfaction vanished. The Shadow Weave must have been inadequate by itself to keep the city aloft. Zossimus guessed that in the Palace of the Most High, the Twelve Princes were even now struggling to tap enough shadow magic to keep Shade airborne. They were failing.
Zossimus bit back his frustration. He would have joined them if he could, would have shaken the cobwebs from his head, endured the loss of the Weave, and added his considerable magical skill to theirs, but his teleportation spell had been lost when the Weave had been destroyed. It would take half an hour to traverse the city by foot. By the time he reached them, the issue would already be decided.
The city continued to descend, picking up speed incrementally. Another thousand feet maybe, and all would be over. When it hit the earth, it would kill every citizen, if not the impact, then the aftermath. The partial mountaintop upon which Shade floated had an irregular base, so it would not settle peacefully to earth even if it were somehow slowed to walking speed. It would topple over on its side, and everyone would be crushed under an incalculably massive avalanche of buildings and walls.
Zossimus wanted Jennah, desperately. If he were to die, he would die with his love.
'Jennah-'
A sudden shout-a roar of ecstatic triumph as loud as ten of Kozah's cyclones-carried from the south to drown out his voice. The force of the shout hit Shade like a maul and sent it lurching sideways, a bit of flotsam in the ocean of the sky. Zossimus fell facedown in the grass and cursed through his fear. He knew that voice-Karsus.
'Mystryl! I'll have your power!' boomed Karsus, his voice reverberating through the heavens.
Shade steadied itself, though it continued to descend. Zossimus rose to all fours.
'Karsus, you arrogant ass,' he cursed.
Surely this was the end of the world, and Karsus had somehow brought it about.
Again the sound of Karsus's voice thundered through the sky, but this time Zossimus heard only sobs. Bottomless despair.
The crying fell silent, cut off as sharp as a razor. The world seemed to hold its breath, silently waiting. Nothing more.
Shade continued to slip earthward.
Zossimus wanted to hold Jennah in his arms. He had maybe a hundred heartbeats. He leaped to his feet and raced for the villa.
A small winged figure alit from an upper window, frantically flapping-Pleeancis. Zossimus's familiar streaked for him as though shot from a bow, a blur of green scales and membranous wings.
Unable to stop in time, the terrified little quasit crashed into Zossimus's stomach and got tangled in his voluminous violet robes. Man and demon went down in a heap.
Pleeancis's high-pitched voice squeaked oath after oath. 'Oh, curse this purple hell! I'll shred you thread-by- thread, wretched robe. Dare you to offend Pleeancis the Mighty-уеер!'
Zossimus grabbed the tiny demon by his left haunch and yanked him free of the robes. 'Enough!'
The quasit fluttered in his hand. His red eyes shot the robes one last evil glare before giving Zossimus his most winning, fanged smile.
'All right, Boss. Just having a moment there. Easy on the leg, eh?'
Zossimus released Pleeancis and climbed to his feet. The quasit hovered before his face, a scaly, fanged hummingbird demanding attention.
'Boss-'
'Not now, Pleeancis.'
He waved the quasit away and hurried for the villa. The city was still sinking. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach. If only he and Jennah had Pleeancis's wings.
Unperturbed, Pleeancis buzzed along beside him while he ran, the demon's fanged mouth moving as quickly as his wings.
'What's happened, Boss? Huh? I can't even teleport. There's something wrong with the ring. Watch this!'
In mid-air, wings still beating, Pleeancis squatted and made as though to… do something. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his tiny fists with the effort.
'Unh. Unh.'
Zossimus would have laughed but for the end of the world. Magic had ceased to function, and Pleeancis was concerned only that his favorite toy was not working.
'See, Boss? Nothing. Nothing at all. Couldn't teleport if I wanted to. I-ack!'
Zossimus stopped, grabbed his familiar out of air, and looked at him with narrowed eyes. 'Where's Jennah?'
'What? Who cares? I'm here, and my ring doesn't work!'
Zossimus knew the quasit didn't like Jennah, or at least didn't like that Zossimus cared for her, but he had no time for Pleeancis's foolishness. 'Where?'
The quasit must have seen his anger. His wings sagged. He ran a forked tongue over his fangs and said, 'She was in the sitting room.'
Zossimus released the quasit and sprinted for the villa. Pleeancis flitted about his head.
'But, Boss, you don't need her. Didn't you hear me? I can't teleport. There's something wrong with my ring.' 'I said not now, Pleeancis!' 'But, Boss-'
As he ran, Zossimus lashed out and smacked the tiny demon across the midsection. Pleeancis, off kilter, let fly with a stream of high-pitched epithets, spiraled out of control, and finally crashed to the lawn.
Zossimus ran on. From behind, he heard Pleeancis squeak indignantly. 'From now on, it's Pleeancis the Mighty to you, Boss!'
Despite himself, Zossimus cracked a grin. Not even this Karsus-made catastrophe could quiet his familiar. They should all be so blissfully ignorant.
Before he reached the villa, Jennah burst from the doors. Her long red hair flew wildly behind her; her skin had gone white. Zossimus had never seen such a lost look in her green eyes. She too was a mage. She too had sensed the destruction of the Weave, but unlike Zossimus, Jennah had steadfastly refused to tap the Shadow Weave. She had no shadow magic in which to find at least some succor. 'Zoss! The Weave!'
He raced to her and took her in his arms. 'I know.' She pushed him to arms length, looked him in the face, and said, 'And the city…?'
He shook his head in the negative. She blinked while that registered.
'Are we doomed then? What's happened?' Zossimus didn't want to answer her first question and couldn't answer the second. Clearly, Karsus had done something…
Pleeancis flitted over and squirmed between them. 'What in the name of Asmodeus's arse is going on around here?' He glared at Jennah. 'Why're you so upset? I'm the one who can't teleport.' He shoved his ring finger before her face.
Zossimus did not have the energy to engage in further nonsense with his familiar. He gently plucked him from the air and placed him on his favorite perch-Zossimus's right shoulder. Jennah seemed hardly to see the quasit. Her gaze was far away.
'What now, Zoss? What now? I want to see the flowers again. Like we used to.' She looked at him with her gentle eyes.
Remembering their many days spent among the purplesnaps on the plains below-the plains where they would
