not even need the relic.'
The eladrin's laughter was like hail on tile roofing.
'You amuse me, Behroun. I will remember that, when everything is through. But enough with your jokes.
'Tell me, where is the Dreamheart?'
'Thoster has communicated with me-he's still loyal, at least. I think… Anyhow, the captain says the warlock stole it.'
'And where is Japheth? Isn't he under your thumb?' 'Yes. Well. He hasn't responded to my last few messages.
'But I'm sure it's only a matter of time-'
'Destroy the pact stone,' interrupted Malyanna. 'Then the Lord of Bats will lead us to the traitor, and thus to the. Dreamheart.'
Behroun said, 'I could do that, yes. But consider! If we do what you say, we risk Neifion gaining your trinket. Do you trust him not to take it for himself, once he is freed of all constraint?'
The woman's eyes narrowed with calculation. She didn't respond.
He said, 'I remain in contact with Captain Thoster. His, last communique indicates the monk from Telflamm, named Raidon Kane, will lead us to Japheth.'
Malyanna remained quiet a moment longer, then said, 'We shall try your way, Lord Marhana. But I swear by the Citadel of the Outer Void, if you can't locate the warlock i soon, I will break the pact stone myself.'
CHAPTER FOUR
The Year of the Secret (1396 DR) Veltalar, Aglarond
Japheth stood in a shadowed, many-roomed space slicked with glowing slime. Shadows flowed as if oil in dank hollows. The rancid odor of rotting fish stung his eyes and nostrils.
He couldn't recall how he'd come to be there.
A shuffling step scraped behind him. Japheth spun around, or tried to. He felt clumsy and disor iented. His foot caught on a rock spur, and he sprawled onto the rough floor.
He craned his neck around and saw a woman. A woman he knew-
'Anusha!' he called.
She stood in a vast, misty space. But she wasn't alone. Shapes made indistinct by the roiling fog shuddered and crept across the floor.
He stumbled to his feet. Before he could run to Anusha, one of the shapes behind the woman moved close enough that Japheth was able to see it.
A fine haze of mucus haloed a gelatinous bulk. He squinted, his mind trying to fit some previously encountered shape to it. It was a gruesome slug grown monstrously large-a slug with tentacles.
It slid closer, and Japheth saw it regarded him with three scarlet eyes. A tooth-studded tongue coiled forth from its lipless mouth and rasped along the floor. Nausea stirred in his gut.
He returned his regard to Anusha. Her eyes had never left him. They were desperate with some need. Her hands reached out. Her lips moved, though Japheth heard nothing.
'What?' He held out his hands. 'Tell me what's wrong!'
She shook her head and looked up, above and behind him. Tears traced lines down her cheeks. Her lips moved once more, but it was as if she were trapped behind crystal. 'Tell me!' Japheth yelled. He stepped closer, but his feet seemed frozen in mud. He leaned, trying to touch her outstretched fingers, but she was too far.
The vapor behind Anusha churned. An eye the size of a house blinked open. Then five more. Their reddish glow pierced the fog like bonfires. All of them stared at Anusha with unmasked hunger.
Japheth startled awake, one flailing hand knocking the pile of tomes next to his bed crashing to the floor.
He sat up and looked at the vault door. Lucky lay before it. The dog whined and raised his head from folded paws. His ears twitched forward with nervous curiosity.
The door to the vault was ajar!
The warlock rolled from his bed and charged into the vault, sending another stack of books tumbling.
Anusha lay sleeping in her travel chest. She hadn't moved. As Japheth's breathing slowed, he recalled leaving the vault door open on purpose so he could keep watch over her as she slept. He'd fallen asleep before closing it again.
He wasn't getting enough sleep, and it was starting to show. He was getting sloppy. Forgetting things.
Japheth walked to the chest. 'Hope you slept better than me,' he said.
The woman remained as quiescent as ever, her breath coming in slow but measured waves.
Japheth sighed. Just a dream, it seemed, though a nasty one all the same.
'Today's the day,' he confided. 'I've got everything I need. You'll wake this time, I'm certain.'
Actually, he wasn't, but if any part of her could hear his words, he wanted to be reassuring.
Which was why he'd never voiced his terrible remorse. The image of a silver vial in her slack hand haunted him.
When he'd found her on the beach in her travel chest guarded by Lucky, it was obvious she'd imbibed the liquid.
She'd been unable to wake up and escape the Dreamheart's pull thanks to Japheth's own elixir of sleep. The guilt rose up like gorge, trying to strangle him.
The creatures he'd seen in his dream earlier were probably manifestations of his guilt.
Doubt assailed him: was he even worthy of her?
Events demonstrated merely being around him was dangerous. Worse, his predilection for taking forbidden substances could ensnare others besides himself-even someone like Anusha. Once she realized his part in her situation, Anusha might well come to hate him.
It was a thought too cruel for him to ponder. The only thing he could do was try to prove himself to her. Prove that despite all his shortcomings, he would do anything for her.
Starting with rescuing her.
He turned away from Anusha and regarded the slender birchwood podium he'd dragged into the vault the previous evening. On it lay several arcane components: a rod, a scroll case, a tome, an iron ring, and a vial of green dust. His nautilus shell hung from its hemp cord off one side of the podium.
Except for the shell, he would use each of the items-one way or another-in the rituals he contemplated. He began to sort through them.
The scroll case contained a ritual of curse breaking more potent than any Japheth had previously tried.
The tome contained a ritual similar to that penned on the scroll, but one that dealt more specifically with relieving maladies of the mind.
The rod was carved of jade. It had been blessed by a priest of Kelemvor who'd returned to awareness after spending a full ten years in a holy trance.
The dust in the vial was powdered dragon scales, collected from the lair of a green dragon whose ammoniac odor was so pungent some claimed it could wake the recently dead.
The iron ring was the cheapest of the assembled items, but the most precious to him. He'd wound several strands of Anusha's dark hair around it, which he hoped would allow him to trace her soul wherever it had fled.
Japheth wasn't sure which of the two rituals, the one on the scroll or the one in the tome, was the one he needed.
He figured he would try both, starting with the cure for curses. The Dreamheart was like a curse made manifest.
He glanced back at Anusha. 'One other component I need too, if I'm going to have any chance of finding your dream. I'm sorry…'
The warlock pulled a small object from the folds of his cloak. It was shaped somewhat like a clamshell, but
