Shadovar shadow magic. 'This is a private council.'
'Forgive me,' Aglarel said, stopping to bow, 'but I wanted to save you the trouble of teleporting a company to rescue your relief army.'
'I want to know how you can know our intentions,' said Brian the Swordmaster. While it was customary for Piergeiron to speak for the other lords in the Court Hall, they usually spoke for themselves in less formal gatherings. The helm's magic transformed his voice into a hollow, anonymous baritone that even Brian's oldest friends would not recognize. 'We have barely formed them ourselves.'
Aglarel fixed a silver-eyed glare on the lord. 'A short time ago, many of your citizens received farewell sendings from their relatives accompanying the Chosen.' The prince did not bother to explain how he knew this. 'Knowing the kind of men you Waterdhavians are, it only stood to reason that you would want to do something to help. I called at the palace and was told that Lord Paladinson had left to attend to an urgent matter of state.'
'Which begs the question of how you slipped past the invader wards that guard the castle,' said Thyriellentha, 'or knew to look for Lord Paladinson in this chamber.'
'I will be happy to demonstrate later,' Aglarel said, dismissing the questions with a flip of his hand. 'For the moment, I suggest we concentrate on the matter at hand.'
He stepped to the circular table and stretched forward to circle his hand over the surface. A shadow fell over the center, then opened like a hole in the clouds to reveal a battle raging far below. The scene expanded to fill the entire table, and Piergeiron soon recognized Laeral's relief army trapped against the shore of a muddy lake that could only be the Winding Water in high flood. Much to his surprise-and relief-they were standing in good formation behind a wall of guttering flame, shields raised and weapons drawn but engaged in no combat more serious than swatting the flies and mosquitoes swirling around their heads.
The scene on the other side of the burning wall was far different. Dozens of blue dragons were tearing into an army of bugbears and gnolls, swooping down to gather up great clawfuls of warriors, then wheel out over the flooding river and drop them into the muddy waters. Despite the gaps being ripped in their lines, the monsters were holding ranks, doing their best to fend off the attacks with axes and flails better suited to smashing human heads than piercing draconian scales.
'The dragons weren't sent by the phaerimm?' Piergeiron gasped, unable to tear his eyes from the tabletop.
'Even in Anauroch, there are some things the phaerimm do not control,' Aglarel said.
The wings of one dragon went limp, and it plunged toward the ground, tumbling end over end and tangling itself into a knot of tail, neck, and wing. Piergeiron glimpsed a huge black hole in its chest and realized that it had been killed by some very powerful death magic.
In the next instant, the polished bones of a huge dracolich dived down out of the clouds, discharging a thunderstorm's worth of blue lightning at a tiny, cone-shaped figure near the back of the bugbear ranks. A salvo of crackling red meteors streamed up to blast it in the flank, dislodging two ribs the size of trees and sending the skeletal dragon rolling through the air in a crackling ball of flailing claws and forks of flashing blue energy. Thyriellentha gasped at the mighty magic being hurled about in the battle-the magic required to send a two- hundred-foot dracolich tumbling would have reduced any normal wizard to a smoking cinder-then the thorny shape of a second phaerimm appeared behind the gnolls.
The first dragon had barely crashed to the ground before four long-tressed women rose into the air above the relief army's ranks. They streaked toward the visible phaerimm, balls of the Chosen's silver fire streaking from their hands. The two thornbacks vanished in a blinding explosion of light.
'Four Sisters,' Aglarel said, clearly awed. 'That was unexpected. When last I looked, there were only Storm and Laeral.'
'The Chosen stick together,' Brian said from behind his helm. 'You Shadovar would do well to remember that.'
Aglarel smiled tolerantly. 'You seem to think we would have reason to fear them.'
The bugbears and gnolls finally lost their courage and turned to flee, drawing the dragons down after them. Piergeiron had to look away from what came next. 'I think we've seen enough, Prince,' he said.
Aglarel waved his hand over the scene, and the table returned to its normal brown surface.
'You're welcome,' Aglarel said, assuming the thanks Piergeiron had deliberately omitted. 'I'm sure Water- deep has many genuine problems with which to concern itself.' 'No more than we can handle,' Piergeiron said.
He did not like this Shadovar, and because of that he did not trust him. Still, even he had to admit that aside from its part in releasing the phaerimm in the first place, so far the city of Shade had done nothing but help Water-deep, Evereska, and their allies.
'Are we to take it that the dragons were your city's doing?' Piergeiron asked.
Aglarel nodded, then, without being invited, took a seat at the council table. 'Our riposte force is occupied with other problems, so we had to call upon our ally Malygris to watch over your relief army.'
'Malygris?' Brian demanded. 'You would ally with the Cult of the Dragon?'
Aglarel turned and craned his neck to look up at the helmed lord. 'Our alliance is with Malygris. His relationship with the cult is none of our concern.'
'But you have allied yourself with a dracolich?' Thyriellentha clarified.
Aglarel nodded. 'We hope to reclaim our home in Anauroch. It seemed wiser to ally with the Blue Suzerain than to fight him.' He waved his hand at the blank table-top and added, 'I am sure Laeral and her sisters will attest to the wisdom of that decision… just as I'm sure that Waterdeep and its allies would benefit from a similar arrangement. Shade Enclave has demonstrated the benefits of working with us twice already.'
'You let the Chosen speak for themselves,' Brian said. He turned his helm toward Piergeiron. 'There may be more to this than is apparent… or less.'
'What are you saying, Lord?' Piergeiron asked. 'That the prince misled us?'
Brian shrugged. 'I'm saying it's possible. He could have shown us an illusion as easily as a scrying.' The helm turned briefly toward Thyriellentha, who could only shrug and spread her hands, then he demanded, 'How do we know those dragons aren't tearing Laeral's army apart right now?'
'Because you must have half a wit somewhere inside that helmet,' Aglarel said, growing exasperated. 'Why would we save the army at the High Moor, only to summon a flight of dragons to destroy it later?'
'I don't pretend to know the ways of shadow,' Brian said, 'but I do know better than to trust those who bargain with dracoliches.'
Aglarel rose, then-to Piergeiron's amazement- responded in a civil voice. 'Your point would be better taken, Masked Lord, had Shade Enclave not proven more reliable than any of your other allies.'
'Reliable?' Brian scoffed. 'We have seen how reliable you were in your dealings with Elminster.'
Aglarel's hand knotted into a fist, and Piergeiron realized that he was allowing his own dislike of the Shadovar to interfere with his judgment as a diplomat.
'My Lord,' he began, 'your caution is well placed, but in truth the Shadovar have done nothing but serve our mutual cause.' Brian would not be called off. 'No?' he demanded. 'And what of Blackstaff s disappearance? How do we know they didn't send him to the hells with Elminster?'
'Because we were not even here when Khelben vanished,' Aglarel said, not unreasonably. He turned to Piergeiron. 'Milord, this really is too much. I demand an apology.'
Piergeiron almost let his chin drop. He had no authority to make a Masked Lord apologize, and-even were he sure that Brian was wrong-he knew what the brusque weaponsmith would tell him if he dared suggest such a thing openly.
'Prince Aglarel, there are those in this room who have relatives in the relief army,' he began. 'You can understand their concern. When our own mages have confirmed what you showed us, I'm sure the Masked Lord will reconsider his opinion.'
Brian started to object, but Aglarel spoke over him, his raspy voice seeming to reverberate from all corners of the room at once. 'You will allow this insult to stand?'
'It is not my place to speak for another Lord,' Piergeiron said, reminding himself not to look away. 'Any more than it would be yours to speak for another prince.'
'Were a Prince of Shade to insult a guest in that manner, he would be a prince no longer,' Aglarel said. He turned to Brian and bowed stiffly. 'I thank you for your candor. You have shown me that I am wasting my breath in
