In silent unison, the three Knights turned and hastened back together, glancing often over their shoulders.
They were about halfway back to the strands that sourced the silver web when it began.
A low ripple in the blood, an uneasy swell and surge. The Knights might have thought it mere indigestion if every white strand in sight wasn't bending in time to the slow, inexorable rhythm.
'I'm still not being told what's happening,' Jhessail whispered, but she sounded more amused than exasperated.
Then something swept through the mist and strands, broke over them, and rolled on. Something vast and heavy and nigh-soundless, that plucked up and hurled away liches in velvet silence, and spun mythal-gold and emerald rings alike up into great spheres of white strands, englobing each and every baelnorn. The spheres fell softly from their heights, to bounce and roll gently among the strands, and halt here and there.
Something like a rag doll fell less gently out of the white misty nothingness overhead, and would have smashed Florin flat had he not cast aside his blade, stepped back, and cradled his hands to catch it.
The force of her fall drove him to his knees, and over onto his shoulders. Sapphire-blue hair blinded him, and soft limbs tumbled across his chest as their owner gasped, groaned, ducked under Jhessail's wary dagger, and plucked up Florin's sword.
On hands and knees, the elf grinned up at the lady mage. 'Worry not, I won't be using this steel on you or anyone. 'Twould be poor reward for rescuing me from harm to lose one's blade.' She turned her head to look at Florin. 'My thanks, man.'
The ranger rolled up to his knees, barely winded. The elf had been little heavier than a child. He gave her a polite smile, and she took hold of his sword by the blade and held it out to him.
As she did so, Merith went to his knees with the full flourishes, as if to a coronal or great lady.
She smiled at him. 'I'm done with such things, young gallant. I hope. Yet I'll not entirely abandon the courtesies. Well met in a strange glade, blood of Meirynth. I see the blood runs strong.'
Merith blushed, but the sapphire-haired elf turned her head to include the other two Knights as she continued, 'Have my thanks, all of you.' Then she turned fully to Jhessail, golden eyes twinkling. 'And my explanations.'
From up close, her beauty was even more breathtaking. Perfect skin of that tan, almost golden hue, long arms and longer legs for one so tiny… even Jhessail found herself staring.
A delicate hand waved dismissal. 'I've seen far fairer; there's no need to be staring at these old bones.'
'Ah, Lady…' Florin began, unable to take his eyes off that gorgeous sapphire-blue hair.
She sighed-and Florin found himself looking at a feminine version of Merith, with that glorious fall of hair turned jet black, and her skin a soft white.
'There. Does that set you more at ease?'
'Only if I could know I was seeing your true shape, Lady,' Florin said. 'We've fought so many fair-seeming foes who were scaled serpents-or worse-beneath the beauty they lured us with.'
She shrugged, and became once more tan-skinned and blue-haired. 'This is the one I've grown used to. In truth, I can't recall how far it is from what I looked like before I mastered my first spells.'
She drew her feet under her and sat, hands planted on the misty whiteness that served as 'ground' in the Tshad-darna. 'Forgive me,' she murmured. 'I'm still weary after that mythal-twisting.' She waved a hand at the nearest strand-spheres.
'You're the Srinshee,' Merith said.
She turned to look at him, lost her smile, and nodded. 'I am.'
He regarded her cautiously, and murmured, 'Forgive me, lady, but-are you of my sort… among elves, that is, or…?'
A slender shoulder lifted in a shrug. 'Moon elf, sun elf,' the Srinshee murmured. 'I have moved so far beyond that.'
Eyes fixed on his, she sat still and silent-as her skin turned a faint blue, her hair went silver-white, and her eyes deepened into bottomless pools of green. Then they went blue, along with her hair, as her skin turned bronze, her hair shifted again to a coppery hue and to a blaze of gold.
Florin made a wordless murmuring sound deep in his throat, at the striking beauty of one of her combinations-but the Srinshee went on changing. Her skin became deep brown, her hair shifted to match, her skin slid to copper tinged with green, her eyes went hazel and lilac-and obsidian black, and Merith drew in his breath with a hiss.
The Srinshee looked at him with blood-red eyes, lifted her lip in a mirthless smile that was more sneer than anything else, and fell back into tan skin, gold eyes, that sapphire blue hair, and a nice smile again.
'Enough games,' she said. 'I'll be happy to chat at ease with you later-if we can carve out a later for us all- but for now I need you still, valiant Knights. The sooner we prevail, the better, for know this: Time passes far more slowly here than in Faerun. Back in the Realms, days are racing by like scudding storm clouds.'
Three pairs of eyebrows rose in silence, and her smile broadened. 'Later.'
'Lady,' Jhessail said, 'I'm content to wait for some lore, but please-why us, and what should we be doing next?'
'You, because Elminster thought you were the best to bring. We're here to foil Larloch's latest scheme. He's hit upon the idea of subverting baelnorn to act on his behalf. They'll eventually become his slaves, and he'll be able to draw on the magical energies of their mythals.'
Florin blinked, and waved his hands at the mist all around. 'Is this his… private play-yard?'
'No. I managed to lure the baelnorn into the Tshaddarna, so as to bring Larloch's liches here, too. Larloch will remain elsewhere, working only through his servitor liches. 'Tis his way.'
Jhessail frowned. 'What is this place?'
'The Tshaddarna-there are others-are extra-dimensional spaces created by spells, long ago.'
Jhessail made a circular motion with her hand, an 'out with it' prompting that made Merith grimace-and the Srinshee grin.
'The spells were cast by certain Imaskari, Netherese, and even by the Blood of Malaug, before they departed for their Place of Shadows that's much larger and better suits them.'
The Srinshee waved her hand at the white mists and strands. 'As I said, these are places only the Weave can reach, now. Their 'Faerun ends,' if you will, have been destroyed, but-obviously-the places themselves aren't swept away with them.'
Florin looked at her rather grimly. 'And how many armies are hiding in these hidden places? For that matter, how many Tshaddarna are there?'
'No armed hosts-there's nothing to eat in a shaddarn but each other, and nothing to drink but your own blood and leakings. More than that: gather an army in one, and months have passed in that brief mustering-where's your foe gone, in all that time, and what's he done? As for how many, no one knows. At least ten-and-four I know of. They're caught in the Weave like flies in a spider's web. It's finding and reaching them that's well-nigh impossible, unless one can ride the Weave.'
'You can,' Jhessail said, ducking her head so it wouldn't sound entirely like an accusation.
The Srinshee nodded. 'Some few can. Larloch is one. He uses them to store magic and treasure. I can take you to a shaddarn that's waist-high with gold coins, as far as the eye can see.'
'Don't tell Torm about that,' Merith said to his fellow Knights, 'whatever you do.'
'Manshoon of the Zhentarim is another. He's left echoes of himself in various Tshaddarna, most of them in spell-stasis.'
Florin crooked an eyebrow, his sword rising. 'Should we expect to meet up with him here?'
The Srinshee smiled like a grandmother fondly guarding a secret, but said merely, 'No.'
Florin pounced on her momentary hesitation. 'Just 'no'?'
The Srinshee's smile went wry. 'One of the early Manshoons, still active and powerful in the Realms, retreats to a particular shaddarn like a snake seeking its burrow whenever danger gets too close to him in Faerun. Another shaddarn than this one.'
Jhessail nodded. 'You've been hiding in Tshaddarna too, haven't you?'
The Srinshee's smile never changed. 'Of course.'
'Why?'
