Jack sensed that the negotiations were getting away from him. The dark elves were proving every bit as obstinate as he’d feared. “I can see why you’d think that,” he offered gamely. “But, before I take up management of your herds, perhaps I can make myself more useful to you in another way. I am a man of many rare talents, specialized in the gathering of information, unearthing of secrets, and recovery of lost treasures. And I am quite skilled in the sorcerous arts, to boot. Surely there must be some enemy you wish discomfited or some long-lost valuable you would pay dearly to have back. I am just the fellow for the job. Come, now, there must be some way I can put my considerable talents to work for you.”
“A sorcerer, you say?” Jezzryd asked.
“Indeed!” Jack folded his arms across his chest and gave the drow mage a nod of professional respect. “I am a master of time and space-well, space, anyway, since time has momentarily bested me-and I am quite talented with illusions as well.”
Dresimil raised an eyebrow. “As it so happens, talent in the arcane arts may be of some use to me,” she said. “If you please, would you provide a small demonstration of your skill? Nothing my guards might construe as an attack, of course. They will shoot you down at once if they believe you are threatening me.”
Jack managed a weak smile. “Of course. Hmm … would a spell of invisibility be acceptable?”
The drow noblewoman glanced to her brothers, who gave small shrugs in reply. “Very well. Proceed when you are ready.”
“Excellent! Now, observe carefully. I have been told that my style is quite unorthodox.” Jack breathed a silent sigh of relief, and called to mind his invisibility spell. He’d never studied magic formally, instead learning his spells through experimentation and natural inclination. Once he’d been told that his talents were born of the wild mythal that lay beneath the city he called home. In fact, the last time he’d been in the presence of the mythal stone, he’d been able to feel it seething with magical energy. Strangely enough, it was quiescent now … but then Jack reminded himself that on the occasion of his previous visit to this place, his enemy Myrkyssa Jelan had been engaged in manipulating the wild mythal to rouse its magic for her purposes. Quiescence was probably its normal condition.
With serene confidence, Jack moved his hands in soft, sweeping passes, as if drawing a cloak over himself, mumbling a few words of nonsense under his breath. The trick of it was of course in the mind, in marrying the sheer desire to vanish from sight with a few careful plucks of the will at the intangible Weave of magic slumbering in his surroundings. To his surprise he found that the unseen currents of magical power were quite distant in this place; he could not really sense them at all. Usually the Weave’s warp and woof were warm and alive, an unseen web of living energy that rippled and thrummed to a mage’s gentle plucking. But Jack was not well versed in the theory of arcane matters, working more by feel and intuition than anything else. He set aside his concerns and focused on the familiar action of working the spell. “Do not be alarmed, Lady Dresimil!” he called out. “I have not teleported myself away. I am here still, but by the power of my magic you cannot perceive me. And this of course is but one of the many spells at my command.”
The drow stared in astonishment at the place where Jack stood, seemingly struck speechless with the skill and deftness of his casting. He grinned from ear to ear in his transparent state, realizing that he had defied their expectations. “Here, allow me to demonstrate that I am indeed physically present,” he continued. “Attend! You see this small stone about six or seven feet in front of Jezzryd’s noble toe? I am picking it up in my hand now.” He lifted the pebble between thumb and forefinger, bobbing it up and down to make sure the drow could see it, and then discarded it over his shoulder. For good measure he stuck his fingers in the corners of his mouth and boggled his eyes at the dark elves, indulging himself in a small jest at their expense as long as he was unseen.
The three drow simply continued to stare in his direction in amazement. Finally Jezzryd managed to speak. “By all Nine Hells,” he whispered. “He’s mad. Completely mad.”
“Lesser minds than mine have of course cracked under the strain of arcane study, but I assure you, my sanity is not in question,” Jack replied. He quickly tiptoed over to a nearby table, and, because the dark elves had not yet offered the simple courtesy of refreshment after dragging him forth from whatever magical prison had held him, indulged himself in a stealthy sip of wine from a fine ewer standing there. Then Jack tiptoed back to where he’d been standing before speaking again. “I trust you are satisfied with my skills?” he said.
Dresimil put her hand to her mouth and seemed to stifle a small cough. “Lord Wildhame, you’re still there,” she said.
“Why yes, of course. That was the purpose of the demonstration with the pebble,” Jack answered. “I have not gone anywhere, I am merely invisible. If you would care to see a spell of teleportation demonstrated, I shall of course be glad to oblige.”
“Dear Dark Queen, yes,” Jaeren said aloud. “
Jack gestured and released his spell, offering a gracious bow as he returned to visibility. He glanced around, and his eye fell on a workbench across the small plaza. “There,” he said. “I shall teleport myself to that small table. Please instruct your guards not to panic.”
“Of course,” Dresimil replied. “Continue when you are ready.”
With another small nod, Jack fixed his eye on the spot he wished to be. He considered simply teleporting himself as far from this place as he could, and taking his chances in the Underdark. Unfortunately, he was unarmed and completely unequipped for finding his way around in the darkness. If he fell into the dark elves’ hands again after an attempted escape, he had no doubt that he’d soon encounter the limits of their reasonableness, such as it was. No, better to convince the beautiful Lady Dresimil of his usefulness, then plot an escape later when he was better prepared. He reached again for the subtle energies of the Weave, whispering the words of his dimension- sliding enchantment. Once again the familiar energies of magic seemed strangely elusive, almost as if he were working through some sort of metaphysical fog. He pressed on anyway, redoubling his efforts.
“Now I am here,” he announced between the words of his casting. “And an instant later, I am-here!”
Nothing happened. Jack stood before the three dark elves, dumbfounded. He’d never botched a spell in that manner before, not one he knew so well. He offered an embarrassed grin, and quickly repeated the spell, only to fail again. He remained exactly where he was, an arm’s reach from the frozen form of Myrkyssa Jelan.
The dark elves shared predatory grins. “Perhaps you should give a little pirouette and announce that you are immaterial?” Jaeren asked. “Or you might make a whooshing sound as your proceed to your destination?”
“I was rather expecting him to run across the square and make a show of ‘appearing’ by the table,” Jezzryd remarked. “Standing there stupidly is much less entertaining.”
“We’re still waiting for you to magic yourself to your destination, Jack,” Dresimil said. “I must tell you, I shall be very disappointed if you have exaggerated your arcane talents.”
With a terrible sinking despair, Jack realized that not only had his teleportation failed-so, too, had his spell of invisibility. No wonder the drow had seemed so astonished. He’d been acting like an idiot, capering about under the mistaken belief that he was unseen. “I–I am certain that I will recall the proper forms of my spellcasting soon,” he stammered. “It must be some lingering effect of my encystment in the mythal stone. You will see, I am a very useful fellow-”
The three dark elves laughed aloud. “Pray, no more for now, Lord Wildhame,” Dresimil finally said. “So far you have been an amusing guest, but I must warn you against becoming tiresome. Should you recover your arcane powers-” the three dark elves shared another chuckle at that-“then perhaps we will find another way to put your talents to work.” She motioned to two of the guards standing nearby. “Varys, Sinafae, take our guest here down to Malmor. Tell him to provide Lord Wildhame with clothing and quarters suitable to his station, and introduce him to his duties.”
Jack started to protest, but checked himself. He wasn’t sure what Lady Dresimil would do if she decided that he was tiresome, but he suspected that he wouldn’t like it in the least. It was clear that his customary charm and talents were not as useful as he would have hoped in this dismal new age, however he had stumbled into it. Time to make the best of a poor hand. He drew himself up with all the dignity he could muster and bowed graciously. “I am at your disposal, my lady,” he said.
“Of course you are, my dear Lord Jack,” the drow noblewoman replied. She watched with a bemused smile as the dark elf guards came up on either side and marched him away from the plaza.
A thousand questions hovered at the tip of Jack’s tongue as he slogged along between the guards, dejected. For the moment he shut them out of his mind and gazed at the curious scene around him. The exposed lake bed was still quite muddy in many places, and the dark elves’ laborers had laid down large planks of a curious gray wood
