All the Paths of Shadow

him”

“Interesting. I, too, was the subject of an attack at approximately that time.”

“You? Attacked?” Mug snorted. “With what, battering rams and pick-axes?”

“Someone attempted to latch a moderately complicated spellwork to my main structure. I deflected it, of course, but the construction of the spell was most unusual.”

“Unusual how?”

“I have maintained an intimate familiarity with every arcane practice in all of the Realms,” replied the Tower. “Vonat, Phendelit, Eryan, Alon. I am expert in them all.”

“Your wooden friends do a lot of traveling, don’t they?”

“Mug.” Meralda rose and began to pace. “And this was something new?”

“It was.”

“Do you know who sent it?”

“Not yet. I know the general area from which it originated. The spell caster was careful to maintain a considerable distance and employ a number of obfuscatory measures.”

“Dorleigh and Ventham,” said Mug. “Somewhere between those two streets, wasn’t it?”

The Tower’s tone took on a hint of bemusement. “Just so, construct,” it said. “Just so.”

Meralda frowned. Mug turned a trio of eyes toward her.

“I may be just a lowly construct, mistress, but I do read the Post. The Vonats rented out a couple of rooming houses in that neighborhood. They always do that, since they throw the kind of parties King Yvin won’t stand for.”

“I dispatched Nameless and Faceless to that area as soon as I detected the intrusion,” said the Tower. “Their absence during your difficulty was thus my fault. I apologize.”

“Well. Finally.” Mug tossed his fronds. “Was that so hard?”

“The staves.” Meralda thought for a moment. “Have they returned?”

“No. I can attempt to recall them now, if you wish. Though I cannot guarantee their timely obedience.”

Meralda paused in her pacing. “No. Let them be. Though I would like to hear what they found, when they return.”

“As you wish.” The Tower fell silent for a moment. “Have you considered the matter of the curseworks, Mage Ovis?”

As if I’ve considered anything else, thought Meralda. “I have. Tower, a question. This unique new magic you encountered, could it be Hang magic?”

“I have considered that. I simply have no knowledge of the Hang or their arcane traditions. But given the presence of the Hang, it seems likely. You suspect collusion between Hang and Vonath?”

“I suspect a few rogue elements within the Hang may be involved. And all of Vonath, including the rats, the crows and the crickets.”

The Tower hesitated.

“Humor.”

Meralda chuckled. “An attempt. But if we face Hang magic, we need to know something about it. And who knows? There might be something in the Hang traditions that can help repair the spokes.”

“A possibility.”

There came a knock at the door. The image in the glass shook, and became nothing but a simple refection of Meralda and Mug.

Kervis stuck his head in the door.

“Ma’am,” he called. “It’s Mr. Donchen. He says he doesn’t have an appointment, but he needs to see you.” Kervis grinned. “He’s brought more food, too. They have two kinds of breakfast over there, and he’s brought both.”

Meralda pushed back her hair, wished she’d had time to comb it, and forced a smile.

“Well, show him right in,” she called. “He’s just the man I wanted to see.”

“That was excellent,” said Meralda, pushing away her empty plate.

Donchen smiled and made a little bow with his head. Meralda caught herself staring again, trying to guess his age. There were no wrinkles at the corners of his almond-shaped grey eyes. His short-cropped hair was a uniform inky black. His teeth were perfect, and a brilliant white.

He grinned back, and Meralda blushed.

“I am glad you enjoyed it,” he said. “Though I must confess, I did not prepare any of this. Chef Inglee did all the work. I merely stole the serving cart.”

“Well, I’m glad you did. I’ve had nothing but coffee in ages.”

Donchen nodded. “You are a busy woman, Mage Ovis. Dining with possibly nefarious foreigners. Being attacked on the palace steps by vanishing Alons. It’s a wonder you ever dine at all.”

Mug bunched his eyes.

“You know about that.”

“I was there.”

“Didn’t see you rushing to anyone’s aid,” muttered Mug.

“I was too far away,” replied Donchen, nonplussed. “But not so far away that I couldn’t confirm the use of a very familiar charm. I did in fact make an effort to track your assailant, Mage Ovis. I fear I failed in that effort, shortly after commencing it.”

“Was he heading south, when last you saw him?”

Donchen nodded. “He was. This is significant?”

Meralda shrugged. “It’s suggestive. The Vonats have rented a pair of boarding houses south of the palace.”

“Hmm. I see.” Meralda watched the man’s face. He kept it blank, but she didn’t need Sight to see his mind working behind his eyes.

“You said I could ask you anything, yesterday,” she said. “Did you mean that?”

“I did.”

Meralda leaned forward. “All right. Then I have a question. Who are you?”

“And none of that friendly cook business, either,” added Mug. “You know what she means.”

Donchen smiled. “I do. I will answer, though you may find it troubling at first. I am a ghost.”

Mug snorted. “You eat a lot for a specter.”

“That’s not what he means,” said Meralda. “Is it?”

“No. It is customary, you see, for persons of my position and background to spend a certain number of years as a sohata. A ghost. As a sohata, I may walk where I will, speak as I will, act as I will. No one of the House of Chentze sees or hears me. Thus, I am a ghost.”

“But not the dead and buried sort? No rising from the grave or feasting on the blood of the living?” Mug stared hard at Donchen with all twenty-nine of his eyes. “Because we take a dim view of those sorts of goings-on here in Tirlin.”

Donchen laughed. “I assure you, Mug, I neither rise from the grave nor feast on blood. I much prefer feather beds and vegetables.”

“A ghost.” Meralda searched his eyes for any hint of deceit. “So your Mighty Dragon has no idea you’re speaking with me?”

“I am sohata, Mage Ovis. I walk unseen. My only voice the wind. The tradition is ancient and much venerated. Even private speculation concerning a ghost is believed to invite a bewildering variety of dooms.”

That actually makes sense, thought Meralda. No wonder he seems to do as he pleases. I could certainly use a year or two as a ghost myself.

“You say you followed the Alon?”

“I did,” said Donchen. “Though I suspect he was no more Alon than you or Mug or I. He was using a charm of concealment to alter his appearance. You suspected this too, did you not?”

Meralda nodded. She didn’t glance toward Goboy’s glass, but she knew the Tower was listening.

“I fear the charm employed the magic of my homeland,” said Donchen, frowning. “For that, I apologize.”

Meralda lifted an eyebrow. “Only a person with Sight could even detect magic,” she said. “And only one with