notice. His eyes were swollen half shut, his broken nose spread across both cheeks, his lip split so badly that the tip of his tongue showed where there should have been teeth. It was more difficult to tell the condition of the body beneath the armor, save that the deep creases and puckers bespoke plenty of bruises.
Would you like that, slave? All those larva grooving inside, slithering through your entrails, eating the food from your stomach? Impossibly, Kiinyon shook his head and said, 'No.'
The word was so garbled that Galaeron barely understood it. He was surprised to discover he felt none of the tomb master's pain. Elves who lived even in reasonably close contact were so connected to each other-through the Reverie and the Weave-that they shared at least some shadow of each other's emotional experiences. Instead, Galaeron sensed Kiinyon's anguish and fear only through Melegaunt's eavesdropping spell. There was even-he was ashamed to admit- some small part of him that actually took pleasure in the tomb master's pain.
Galaeron found the strange emotion as puzzling as he did frightening. Elves were not spiteful, for their emotional bonds tended to curb such low passions. In a very real sense, to wish pain on another was to wish it on oneself, and not even the most arrogant Gold was foolish enough to do that The vile sentiments Galaeron was experiencing seemed all too human.
The phaerimm continued to hold Kiinyon a long time, allowing his fellows to run their barbed tails over the elf's body, until a strange, rhythmic moaning rose from the tomb master's lips. Galaeron did not recognize the sound until the other captive, the elf in the high mage's robes, began to say the Prayer for the Dying.
'Behold, there in the West There I see my comrades and my lovers, my childhood friends, those who have gone before me and those still to come. There I see them in the tall oaks, high in the limbs where the golden sun lights their faces.
'They are calling my name. They are calling my name. They are calling me West, and there I am going.'
The voice was unmistakable. It had not only the clear articulation and eloquent intonation so typical of the Sun elves, it had the same plumy timbre Galaeron had come to know so well over his last two years of duty. The voice belonged, undoubtedly, to Louenghris's father, Lord Imesfor.
One of the phaerimm backhanded the high mage, silencing him, then Zay raised his tail and brought it down hard on Kiinyon's breastplate. The barb penetrated the mithral steel and sank to its base, but Galaeron saw no convulsing muscles as he had when Takari was implanted.
No? Then you must give me a reason, said the phaerimm. Tell me the first word, and I will let you die without eggs. 'Goldheart,' Kiinyon whispered. 'The word is Goldheart.' Liar!
Zay motioned to his fellows, and a dozen barbs pinged through Kiinyon's armor. A couple of the tails began to convulse, but the spasms seemed weaker and more sluggish than the ones that had implanted the egg in Takari. The tomb master screamed, and his body grew puffy and rose toward the ceiling. Only the phaerimm's grasp prevented it from floating all the way.
As astonished as Galaeron was by the strange effect, he was even more astonished to discover he could actually stand to keep watching. By all rights, he should have felt so sickened that he found himself either attacking madly or cowering in fear.
My congratulations, Zay, said Tha, now speaking in the phaerimm's wind language. The same false answer.
Zay pushed Kiinyon into the bone cage, where the tomb master floated to the ceiling and hovered helplessly, pinned in place by the strange magic with which the phaerimm had injected him.
The answer cannot be false, said Zay, only our understanding of it.
All the same, it has not opened the portal. Tha plucked Lord Imesfor off the floor. There is only one thing we have not tried. Perhaps the dead can be made to tell what the living cannot.
Galaeron's heart sank. The phaerimm could be talking about any of several portals into Evereska, but it seemed most likely they meant the Secret Gate, the only way through the mountains from this side. It was also the route by which the Swords of Evereska were leaving the Vale, and Galaeron did not care to think of what might happen when his father emerged from the portal into the arms of a band of phaerimm.
Lord Imesfor began to recite the Prayer for the Dying, this time for himself. Galaeron retreated and turned away. With so many phaerimm in the chamber, he saw no way to effect a rescue, and given the strange, vengeful emotions he had been experiencing, he was not sure he wanted to find out how he would feel when the high mage was killed.
Galaeron felt a tap on his knee and looked up to see Melegaunt. Come along. We don't have long to plan.
The wizard slipped past Galaeron, moving down the tunnel to where Vala and her men were gathering. He had to scuttle along like the slave they had glimpsed earlier, for the passage was only four feet in diameter and shaped like a tube-much more comfortable for floating phaerimm than walking humans. Galaeron joined the others and kneeled, his back sore from hunching.
Melegaunt drew a hand across the ceiling and uttered a quiet incantation, creating a curtain of shadow between themselves and the passage into the WarGather. He assigned Dexon to keep a watch on the other side, then turned to the others and motioned for them to speak softly.
'We could slay two or three, but not seventeen,' said Melegaunt. 'That rules out fighting, so we'll have to do this another way.'
Galaeron raised his brow. 'If you are thinking of a rescue, you should know that it is Evereskan tenet never to risk many lives in the desperate hope of saving a few' 'And how often is that tenet followed?' asked Melegaunt. Galaeron smiled. 'Not very often.'
'1 thought so,' the wizard said. 'Did you see how I opened the shadow path?'
'It was a bit above me,' Galaeron admitted. 'Though if you took a few moments to teach-'
'No!' Melegaunt's hiss came near to a yell. 'That way lies ruin. It is well and good to test yourself with the tame magic of elves, but do not try such a thing with what I have shown you. You will be consumed by your own shadow. Do you understand?'
Somewhat taken aback by Melegaunt's sternness, Galaeron nodded. 'I'll use only spells I can handle easily.'
'And never mix the two magics.' Melegaunt motioned vaguely toward the hole in the Sharn Wall. 'We have seen what comes of that.' Again, Galaeron nodded.
'Good. Now, here is what we'll do.' He explained his plan, then finished by looking to Vala. 'I've seen enough of Kiinyon Colbathin to know he'd hesitate before trusting a human, and there's little reason to imagine a Sun elf high mage would be any less prejudiced. I'm afraid Galaeron must go with you.'
Vala studied Galaeron for a moment, then glanced at his scabbard. 'Can you handle that thing?'
Suspecting she would be unimpressed by his third place regiform steel-ranking, Galaeron simply nodded. 'I can, but the blade wasn't much good against the phaerimm last time.'
'Their magic,' Melegaunt explained. 'Even enchanted steel won't bite.'
Vala turned to Dexon. 'Will you trade with him until this is over?'
A corner of the human's mustache rose as though he'd rather not, but he nodded. 'As long as he understands.' 'Understands?'
'If you lose the weapon, his son's name will be lost,' said Vala. 'In our valley, the noble's title goes with his sword.' Melegaunt frowned at this. That was never my intention.'
'You have been gone a long time,' said Vala. 'That is how matters have come to be.'
'It doesn't matter.' Galaeron raised his palms to decline the sword. '1 can't hold the sword. The last time I tried, my fingers nearly froze off.' 'You will not feel the cold this time,' said Melegaunt.
He nodded to Vala, who removed her scabbard and leaned it against the wall, then kneeled facing Galaeron. He removed his own scabbard and passed it to Dexon, and took his own place across from Vala. Melegaunt struck a torch. He had both Galaeron and Vala bound and gagged and stationed a warrior behind each. He took his glassy dagger from its sheath, and kneeling alongside Vala, began his incantation.
A pall of shadow darkened Vala's eyes, and her expression changed instantly to one of vanity and suspicion. Still uttering the syllables of his spell, Melegaunt ran his glassy dagger along the floor beside her, cutting free the shadow cast by the lit torch. Vala's eyes grew instantly feral and angry. She spun on Melegaunt, hurling herself into the air sideways and slamming her knees into his ribs despite her bound feet Kuhl threw himself over her, pinning her to the floor beneath his big body and holding her there motionless.
