the facilities somewhat… different. We usually leave wastes behind us through changing shape, you see, and let the shadows take away what we don't want.' He smiled broadly and went on. 'As to the second, be at ease. We can prepare food together if you'd like, or you can leave things to me, as you prefer. It's no hindrance, and I'm delighted to have you.'
He set down the platter and turned to the door. 'Here,' he said, 'let me show you. You might find that your sword-'
'Feels best if it stays with me,' Sharantyr murmured softly, and he gave her a surprised look.
'Ah, yes, of course,' Amdramnar replied, and opened the door by holding his palm up in front of it. He indicated a dim passage beyond. 'You see,' he said. 'Now, if you'd feel more comfortable venturing down it together, by all means. Your travel arrangements are your own.'
'That won't be necessary,' Sharantyr said, whirling about to stare hard into Belkram's eager face. The ranger had already opened his mouth to offer. Staring at her eyeball to eyeball, he shut it again, blinked, gave her a weak smile, and sank back into his seat.
The Shadowmaster turned quickly back to the platter with what sounded suspiciously like a snort, and announced, 'I'll just get the meat and bring it back here. I won't be much time at all.'
And he strode away through the mists, another door opening for him in what had seemed to be a dark and solid wall. Belkram promptly leaned over to Itharr and said in his ear, 'If I hear much more of this smooth-as-silk politeness, I may spew! Have you ever heard the like? Not a word wrong. He's worse than a Waterdhavian courtier!'
'Better than a Waterdhavian courtier, Belk,' Sharantyr told him severely, bending over them both. 'Better, do you hear me? I'm rather enjoying it, for a change. Heed ye, gentle sirs!'
'Ye gods, he hasn't got you believing him, has he?'
'He's probably listening,' Shar hissed, shaking her head to indicate 'no.' She straightened, strode quickly across the room, paused in the doorway their host had shown her, and looked uncertainly back at them. 'Itharr!' she hissed, and beckoned. He came.
'Stand in this doorway,' she said, 'as if you have to… go, you know… and don't let the door close. I don't want to be trapped on the other side of a stone wall that won't open for me, fighting to the death, while you two sit in here with him swapping 'and then I changed shape and she swooned' stories!'
Itharr looked hurt. 'I don't know any such stories to trade. You'll have to tell me some.'
'Itharr!' she wailed under her breath.
'Go,' he whispered, nodding as he took up his position in the doorway. 'And… be quick!'
'I intend to,' they heard her soft voice floating back to them. 'I certainly intend to.'
Sharantyr was as good as her word. She arrived back through the door, panting and with the sword pulsing sullenly in her hands, a scant instant before their host returned, his platter piled high with what looked like slabs of pork cooked in a variety of green herbs.
'Boar?' Belkram asked, sniffing the unfamiliar, faintly lemony scent.
'Ah, no,' Amdramnar replied, looking a little uneasy. 'Actually it's… roast shadowslug.' He watched them draw back and added, 'Er… from an earlier meal, too.'
He took up a fork and speared a piece, saw them all watching, and muttered, 'Excuse me,' as one of his hands grew into a needle-sharp knife of bone. Sawing off a long strip of meat, he fed it delicately into his mouth, put forth a shockingly long tongue to lap some of the herbed sauce from his chin, and murmured in appreciation.
'It's very good,' he said, 'and it's not harmful to you… really. Try a little.' He offered it to Itharr, who held up a warding hand wordlessly. Then he offered it to Belkram, who leaned forward with a smile, astonishing his companions, and said, 'Yes, I think I'd like to try. It looks wonderful!'
The Shadowmaster gave him a genuine smile, and Belkram realized something. Taking the proffered small piece, he sat back, turning his head slightly so Amdramnar couldn't see the wink of reassurance he gave Shar, and bit into the shadowslug with gusto.
The stone that was Sylune vibrated soundlessly, telling him that-so far as she could tell-the meat was safe. He chewed, aware that their host was watching his face almost anxiously. It was good.
'Did you cook this?' Belkram asked him eagerly. 'It's great!'
Amdramnar beamed, and Belkram knew he'd guessed right. 'As a matter of fact,' the Malaugrym said proudly, 'I did, and-'
And then the door they'd come in by slid open by itself, and his face changed. Belkram's head swung around, and he suddenly wished he hadn't eaten a piece of shadowslug-or anything else.
The passage outside was full of Shadowmasters in human form, standing tall and grim and silent, their faces hard. One shouldered into the room and glared around at them all.
Amdramnar saw Shar's hands tighten on her sword and put out his hand in a quick quelling gesture.
The newcomer's eyes slid coldly over all of them, lingering for a moment on Sharantyr's sword, and came to rest, as if nailed there, on Amdramnar's face.
'I had heard,' their Malaugrym visitor said coldly, 'that you were entertaining humans in your chambers, but I hadn't thought even you to be quite so foolish. It appears that, sadly, I was wrong.'
'And not for the first time,' Amdramnar said coolly, 'though this is the first time I've had an uninvited guest cross the threshold of my chambers.'
'I don't like such dangers being harbored-even embraced-in our midst without all of us being informed,' the newcomer said tightly, ignoring Amdramnar's words. 'Such offal must be'-he raised a hand that slowly became a thick, powerful, sucker-studded tentacle-'destroyed!'
17
Somewhere in Faerun, Kythorn 19
The midmorning sun laid dappled patches of golden light and shadow across the forest trail. Elminster appeared out of empty air behind his favorite boulder. He sniffed, frowned, and looked critically at the nearby evidence that some wolf had been using it as a boundary marker. Ah, well. Life in Faerun was at least never dull.
He looked to one side, frowned again, and rubbed his nose. Small wonder the wolves had been about. Enough fresh-gnawed bones to make up at least a dozen folk lay strewn down the hillside in the lee of the rocks. Hmm. It had been his experience that feeding hungry wildlife wasn't usually the goal of so many kindhearted folk in one locale, during peacetime. He'd found the spot, right enough, so 'twas time to stow the 'prentice philosophy. To work!
Stepping out from behind the stone, the Old Mage strolled down to the path, hitching at his robes so that it might look to an observer as if he'd had urgent business in the bushes off the trail.
Reaching the cart ruts, he stepped up onto the worn grassy strip between them and trudged along. As he'd expected, one of the bushes beside the path ahead trembled slightly.
'Oh, a wizard may well find time for much fun (for much fun), but an old rogue's work is seldom ever done (ever done)!' Elminster warbled, taking up a tune he'd heard a world away from this one.
'Aghh! Do ye mind!' A deep voice growled from the bushes. 'I was plannin' just to rob thee, but if ye don't'en belt up, I'll be happy to gut ye instead.'
'Gut me?' Elminster looked properly terrified. As expected, he drew back and turned to run, only to find himself staring into the grinning, unshaven visage of a half-orc whose parentage was attested to by one broken-off tusk, flat, piglike features, and a cruel smile.
'Don't mind Glorym. He's not hungry today, so he probably won't nibble on ye, being as ye aren't a pretty maiden.' The brigand leader stepped into view, guffawing loudly at his own jest and scratching himself with his free hand in an ongoing quest for fleas. The other hand held an axe that might have once served to chop down trees- young saplings, that is, and several hundred years ago.
Elminster looked from one outlaw to the other and suppressed a wild urge to hoot with laughter by
