Aglarel allowed his gaze to linger on Storm Silverhand for a moment, then looked back to Piergeiron. 'You have been advised of the shadowshell's danger. It is not our intent to interfere with any of your own missions. Should any of your forces wish to pass through, we will be happy to send an escort along to make that possible.'
The arrogant devils! Brian ranted, either forgetting or ignoring the fact that the prince could obviously hear every word. They're claiming control of the war zone whether we like it or not!
Aglarel shot a glance in Brian's direction but chose to ignore the outburst. 'While we regret that it will not be possible to coordinate our efforts, Shade Enclave does thank you for this audience.'
The Shadovar bowed deeply, then turned toward the door to leave. Though Piergeiron could feel the gazes of the elves and the Silverhand sisters burning into his brow, it was what he knew his fellow lords were leaving unsaid that weighed most heavily on his mind. As usual, Brian the Swordmaster had cut straight to the heart of the matter. Whether Waterdeep and the elves liked it or not, the Shadovar had taken control of the war zone. What Piergeiron didn't understand was why they had bothered to send an envoy to announce an already obvious fact Were they really hoping to establish an alliance, or was there something more, something broader and more nefarious?
There was only one way to find out. Piergeiron drew himself up to his full height, then called, 'Prince Aglarel!'
To his credit, Aglarel looked properly shocked as he stopped and turned. 'Yes, Lord Paladinson?' 'I did not dismiss you.'
The prince looked as though he were biting a smile back. 'Of course.' He inclined his head. 'I apologize.'
Piergeiron resisted the temptation to let the Shadovar remain in the deferential position. The point had been made. 'Prince Aglarel, Waterdeep has not rejected your offer.'
This seemed to catch the prince by surprise. 'Then you have accepted it?' 'As I said earlier, the lords will discuss the matter later.'
'That is the same as rejecting it,' Aglarel said. 'As 7 said earlier, the council needs to be established at once.'
'Then you must be expecting something to happen soon,' Piergeiron said. 'Perhaps Waterdeep and Evereska should withdraw our armies.'
Finally, Aglarel's silver eyes flashed in surprise. 'Withdraw?'
'At once,' Piergeiron confirmed. 'We certainly wouldn't want to interfere with your city's plans.'
Aglarel considered this for a moment, then lowered his gaze. 'It is not our intention to drive you from the field,' he said. 'Let me consult with the enclave.'
Piergeiron smiled. 'Of course.' He dismissed the prince with a gracious wave. 'Take all the time you need. We will.' 'Yes,' Aglarel said, 'I am quite sure you will.'
The prince returned the Open Lord's smile, then bowed again and, with a courteous flourish of his dark cape, turned to leave.
CHAPTER THREE
9 Mirtul, the Year of Wild Magic
With so much of Shade Enclave, Villa Dusari struck Galaeron as a monument to the allure of darkness and beauty half-glimpsed. The gates opened into a round courtyard paved in gray pearl-not stone exactly, but not quite glass either. In the center, a small fountain stood bubbling water into a black pool. The colonnade ringing the enclosure was deep and shadowed, with nine arched doorways opening like cave mouths into the house interior. In front of each pillar lay one of the precious urns wealthy Shadovar used for decoration, a hole knocked in one side to let the magic shadow spray gurgle out in a formless knob.
'A pity,' rumbled Aris. The gate had no lintel, so the stone giant had no need to stoop as he stepped into the court. He kneeled and gingerly pinched one of the urns between his thumb and forefinger. 'Who would do such a thing?'
'A sign of mourning,' explained their guide, Hadrhune. A slender man dressed in a flowing black robe, he was swaddled in so much shadow magic that at times he seemed to vanish into his own umbral aura. He used the black staff in his hand to point at the half-completed statue beneath Aris's arm and said, 'Your work is of suitable quality that no one would object if you replaced them with your own sculptures.' The giant nodded. 'It would be my privilege.'
'Indeed, it is always a guest's privilege to increase the wealth of his host with treasures of art,' Malik said. He sat on the rim of the central basin and drew a disapproving frown from Hadrhune by using his hands to scoop water into his mouth. 'May it please you to stay at my house sometime… when the One allows me the funds to purchase one.'
'Until then, it is the hope of the Most High that you will find this one adequate,' Hadrhune said. He took the dipper from its hook and pointedly offered it to Malik. 'Consider it your home.'
'Indeed?' Ignoring the dipper, Malik wiped his hands on his tunic and studied the courtyard with an appraising eye. 'This is a little cramped for Kelda, but-'
'I am afraid your horse must remain in the stables,' Hadrhune sniffed. He turned to Aris and waved his staff around the courtyard. 'This is to be Aris's quarters. Will it do? We can have a roof erected, but space so near the palace is at a premium. Outside of the Grand Hall itself, no building in the area is large enough for you.'
'I have no need for a roof, thank you.' Aris studied the area with a growing look of discomfort, then tried to hide his disappointment and said, 'There is room enough for me to sleep.'
'Do not fear, my large friend,' Hadrhune said. 'Sleep is all you need do here. The Most High has declared that you may keep your workshop in the goodshouse where you have been staying. He was quite taken with your depiction of Escanor's fight.'
This actually drew a smile from the grim giant. 'Then he shall have it when I finish.'
'Arts will fill the city with his work, if you let him,' Galaeron said, stepping to Hadrhune's side. 'When am I to begin my lessons with the Most High?'
Hadrhune ran a black thumbnail along a deeply worn groove near the head of his staff. 'I thought you would first wish to make yourself comfortable in your new home.'
'It took you a tenday to find this place,' Galaeron said. 'I have no time to waste.'
'The Most High has been occupied with the war.' Hadrhune's amber eyes were burning. 'I'm sure you understand.'
'What I understand is that he said he would teach me to control my shadow,' Galaeron said, 'and that you turn me away every time I present myself.'
Hadrhune's staff rose as though he might strike Galaeron, who felt Vala's hand clamped around his forearm.
'Galaeron, get a hold of yourself!' She dug her fingers into the underside of his wrist and twisted, forcing him to open his hand and release the hilt he had not realized he was grasping. 'If he doesn't want you seeing the Most High, drawing your sword would be just the excuse he needs to see you never do.'
Hadrhune gave Vala a thin smile. 'I do want him to learn from the Most High,' he said. 'We all do.'
Moving more slowly, he waved his staff over their heads and aimed the tip at the gate, where a dark-haired woman dressed in the robe and veil of the Bedine desert people was attempting to sneak into the courtyard. Judging by her kohl-rimmed eyes-all Galaeron could see of her-she was a little older than Vala and not quite as swarthy as the Shadovar.
'You there,' Hadrhune said. 'Do you know what we do with thieves in this city?'
The hint of a cringe flashed across the woman's eyes, then she drew herself up straight. 'From all I can tell, you harbor them.' She spoke Common without a trace of Bedine accent. She locked gazes with Hadrhune and crossed the courtyard, a silver harp-and-moon pinned to her collar growing visible as she drew near. 'I am searching for one rumored to keep company with these people.'
She regarded Galaeron and Vala as though they did not deserve the honor of her gaze, then glanced past
