could have been anything.
Afterward, the Sojourner provided Azriim with a silvery seed pod threaded with black veins-a Weave Tap seed-exactly like the one the slaad had used back in Skullport.
After changing back to his preferred half-drow form-now with a prominent gray streak through his otherwise pale hair-Azriim touched the compass and seed with a magical glove he wore and both disappeared, safely stored in some extradimensional space accessible only through the magic of the glove. Finally, Azriim opened a hole in the wall with a command word and disappeared for a time. He returned with new clothes for him, Dolgan, and Riven.
Riven managed not to laugh in Azriim's face. He said, 'I'll manage my own wardrobe, slaad.'
Azriim looked disappointed but shrugged it off. 'If you must,' he said, and donned his own finery-a silk shirt, high boots, tailored trousers, and a lace-trimmed cloak. He strapped on his quiver of wands and his weapon belt.
'Now I feel ready,' he announced.
Dolgan fumbled into his new clothes-ripping them in the process, of course-and all was prepared.
Without further ado, Riven and the slaadi activated their rods and teleported back to the city where everything had begun-Selgaunt.
CHAPTER 3
Cale materialized with his friends in the same cavern in the Plane of Shadow from which they had staged their attack. All three sagged to the ground, breathing heavily. No hisses or whispers issued from the nearby tunnels, and the darkness of the plane filled Cale, comforted him. He removed his mask but kept it in his hand.
Magadon shrugged off his pack and struck another of his seemingly endless supply of sunrods. The three companions stared at one another in its dim light. Cale saw the pain in the eyes of Jak and Magadon, in their wan complexions. Cale whispered prayers of healing and touched each of his friends in turn, healing fully the black holes in Magadon's skin and the terrible burns in Jak's legs. The little man bit back a scream as the dead flesh fell from his leg, replaced by new. Both smiled their gratitude. Cale's regenerative flesh was already healing his own wounds so he did not expend a spell.
For a time, the three sat in silence under the roof of stone, an island of dim light in an ocean of pitch. The sunrod's light flickered over their faces. No one seemed willing to say what Cale was thinking, what all of them must have been thinking.
Finally, Jak gave it voice. 'I've never even heard of anyone that powerful. Elminster of Shadowdale, maybe. A user of both the Art and the Invisible Art?' He paused, looked at Magadon, looked at Cale, and said softly, 'I don't know if we can defeat him. Maybe we need to get help. Harpers or … someone.'
The statement hung in the air between them, heavier than the darkness.
'No,' Cale said. 'This is our affair.' He absently twisted shadows around his fingers. 'Maybe we can't defeat him, but that means nothing. We try. And try again. And again.' He released the shadows from his fingertips and they dissipated into the air. 'There's something large at stake here. I can't see it but I can feel it. Can't you, Mags? Jak? You saw him, his power. He would not bother himself with something small.'
'Agreed,' Jak said, looking at Cale quizzically. 'And I'm pleased to hear you thinking that way.'
Cale nodded. He was mildly pleased to hear himself thinking that way too.
The little man dug for his pipe, found it, and said, 'Things might have gone differently anyway, if not for that thrice-damned Zhent traitor.'
Cale thought back to Riven's last words to him. He weighed them, then finally said, 'I am not certain that he betrayed us.'
Jak looked up, holding a burning tindertwig in the air before his pipe.
'Not again. What do you mean?'
Magadon leaned forward, pale eyes intense. 'Yes, what do you mean, Erevis?'
Jak's tindertwig burned down almost to his thumb while Cale tried to frame an answer. The little man cursed softly but managed to light his pipe with the stub before tossing it away. The shadows snuffed the flame as efficiently as a bucket of water.
Cale said, 'You heard what he said to me just as we got out of there?'
Magadon nodded. 'That you're on opposite sides.'
'Opposite sides,' Jak said, nodding. 'How is that not a betrayal?'
'He also said something about a Cyricist priest,' Magadon added.
'Yes,' Cale agreed. 'He said that he meant what he once told me back in Selgaunt, after we'd put down a Cyricist priest together.'
Magadon asked, 'What did he say to you, then?'
Jak blew out a cloud of smoke.
Cale hesitated, searching his memory for something else Riven might have said. Finding nothing, he answered, 'He said, 'we work well together'.'
Magadon blew out a breath, leaned back, and looked off into the darkness.
Jak took his pipe from his mouth and swore.
Cale understood their mood.
'What kind of game is he playing?' Magadon asked, as much of himself as Cale and Jak.
'The same kind he always plays,' Jak said, taking a draw on his pipe. 'He is an actor, an assassin. He has been playing us all along. And now he's playing us again. For his own ends. Don't believe him, Cale.'
Cale was not so sure. Riven had always been a difficult read, true, and the assassin's unhappiness at being Second to Cale made him more difficult still. They shared a faith, a past occupation, but little else. Still, Cale had felt something almost like camaraderie developing between Riven and the rest of them. Was that an act? Cale did not know. The assassin could have been telling Cale that he remained an ally, or he could simply have been hedging his wager by playing both sides.
'We'll know when we see him next,' Cale said.
Jak harrumphed, stood, and tested his leg. It appeared fine, though his breeches were melted.
'I still don't trust him,' the little man said.
Cale said, 'Neither do I.'
Not fully, at least. He could not afford to.
'So then,' Magadon said, pulling some hardtack from his pack and passing it around. 'What now? How do we find him after he leaves the Sojourner's lair?'
'I'm working on that,' Cale said. He had been able to scry the slaadi in Skullport, but assumed that the Sojourner would better mask his servants this time, including Riven.
'We learned a few things from your visual leech,' Cale continued. 'The Sojourner said something about a journey to the Eldritch Temple of Mystryl. Perhaps we can use that.'
Magadon looked at him curiously. 'How do you know what he said? We could not hear through the mental contact.'
'He read his lips,' Jak said.
Magadon raised his eyebrows and nodded appreciatively.
The little man said, 'I've never heard of Mystryl, nor any Eldritch Temple. On an island somewhere, maybe?'
Cale shrugged. 'I have never heard the name before either. But we'll find someone who has. Let me think on it.'
Jak snuffed his pipe, tapped out the ashes, and said, 'Meanwhile, let's get the Nine Hells out of here, eh? Can you … move us back to Faerun again?'
Cale assumed so. He had not yet noticed any limits on his ability to transport himself and his comrades through the shadows, though Jak's comment caused him to wonder. If he had no limits, he thought it must have
