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"Ridiculous!" said the wizard, her eyes finally finding the warlock. "By Szass Tam's throne, how would you know if the godsdamned relic was warping your mind? When you're captivated by an enchantment, you don't realize it. Even you know that much spell theory, I'm sure."

"Hmm." Japheth considered. He looked at Anusha. He couldn't tell what she was thinking with her helm on, though he knew she had to be desperate to move on.

"Well, answer me this, then," he said. "What did you do with Anusha's body when you chased me from my suite in Veltalar?"

"We brought her aboard Green Siren" said Thoster. "She sleeps there now, guarded by Blackie. She is safe and cared for."

"I thank you for that. And Green Siren is where?"

"Docked at the outer edge of Xxiphu, outfitted for earth sailing, at least for a time. That way. Seren whipped up some fierce magic." The captain nodded toward the exit where the crew woman had loitered.

Earth sailing? He didn't know exactly what that was, but he could guess. He gave an appreciative nod. The wizard was resourceful. If he was going to get out of there afterward, he needed to mend bridges, not burn them.

Japheth made a snap decision. "Yeva? Can you release Seren?"

"What?" said the woman.

"Hear me out," said Japheth. "If Seren wants, she can accompany us. So can Thoster. They can make certain I don't accidentally relinquish the Dreamheart to the Eldest. We could use their strength… and they can make good on their promise to the monk."

"I'm not sure I want to enter into the Eldest's presence," said Seren.

"It's still sleeping, and its servitors are busy waking it. Help me."

"You… would really have me?"

"Of course. I intend to pry Anusha free from this place. But I don't want to 'doom the world,' as you implied I might, in the process. So, aid me instead of hindering me. What do you say?"

The wizard's brow crinkled. "Very well."

Yeva loosed her immobilizing mind lock with a blink. Seren stood, picked up her wand, and straightened her garments.

The captain cleared his throat in an exaggerated fashion.

"Are you in, Captain?"

"Yes, though you're a fool. But let me loose, and I'll keep an eye on you like you said, in case your mind is less your own than you think. If so, cutting you down would be the least I could do."

"I… appreciate that," said Japheth. With a thought, he released his spell. The inky tendrils faded like smoke.

Thoster stood and nodded at the warlock. "Let's be going, then?"

The wizard said, "Before you walked in, Japheth, I used this scrying pool to locate a shortcut from the throne chamber above us to where Green Siren is tied up. Just in case we live and need to beat a hasty retreat."

Thoster laughed. "In case? Count on it. All of us are getting out of here."

Japheth wondered. Besides the aboleths and the Eldest, the Lord of Bats was near. On the other hand, if Seren's shortcut proved passable, they wouldn't have to double back and come face to face with a vengeance-seeking Neifion. Anusha said, "The tide rises again, Japheth. I don't have much time left."

Dread prickled Japheth's skin. Even though he'd renewed their alliance, the captain and Seren had stolen too much of his time.

"Which way?" he asked.

Anusha motioned toward one of the corridors. "This way" she said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The Year of the Secret (1396 DR) Xxiphu, Throne Chamber

Raidon had nearly succumbed to psychosis once before. Right after he'd learned Ailyn had died alone, he'd tried to murder a mob of Shou. When he'd been prevented from that mad caprice, he'd resorted to starving himself.

The intercession of the artificial entity Cynosure saved many innocents that day, his own vaunted self-discipline had crumbled before his rage. It had also been Cynosure who argued the monk into taking an interest in the needs of the world again, rather than allowing himself to waste away by going without food. Raidon's acceptance of Cynosure's premise was ultimately responsible for the semblance of equanimity he'd worn since then.

But the mere appearance of composure was not a foundation on which sanity could long stand. Since the day he'd learned of his adopted daughter's death, he'd never regained the placid assurance a master of Xiang Temple should rightfully enjoy. He'd never forgiven himself for being absent when Ailyn needed him most. He had merely played the role of someone who seemed content through each gray day's dawning.

When Raidon cut down Opal, his facade shattered. It didn't even matter that she was a puppet of the Eldest. All the desolation and heartache Raidon had walled away following Ailyn's death resurged. In doing so, it buckled the walls of his selfhood. His mind was like a smashed mirror. Each shard of his broken mind reflected only a limited view of reality. Events playing out within each piece were haphazard and unrelated.

His mind was shattered. And Cynosure was not there to help put him back together again.

So the Blade Cerulean leaped into the gap.

The sword pumped Raidon with purpose and will. Instead of collapsing into a raving heap when Opal flashed away, the monk spun and leaped for the other advancing memories and caught dreams. He destroyed the possessed images by the dozen with cleansing fire.

The man holding the blade was lost at sea. As the Eldest had used Opal like a marionette, Angul now directed Raidon. Each sweep and cut Raidon made was under the sword's sole direction. While Angul was used to overmastering the egos of its wielders, the blade rarely enjoyed such freedom in its choice of actions and enemies to engage. The blade relished the feeling. Though it was not given to introspection, Angul determined not to waste the opportunity. What need did it have for the conscious mind of Raidon Kane?

When the corridor was cleared of every last foe, Raidon paused. Or rather Angul did. Angul relished the perfection of its new vessel, now the blade's to direct.

The monk's body turned and sprinted up the corridor after a wisp of churning mist, Angul raised high in one hand. Raidon's throat screamed, "The Eldest wakes to the end of its interminable existence!"

A sprint up a steep, winding slope finally saw Raidon into Xxiphu's throne chamber.

Dozens of entrances like the one Raidon had passed through were arrayed along the floor of the vast chamber.

Most vented white plumes.

Thousands of cavities honeycombed the high walls of the throne chamber, each large enough to hold an adult aboleth in a comfortable bed of slime. Though most gaped empty, several hundred squirmed with the recently awakened. Each occupied berth burned with a purple flame.

Self-scribing lines rayed across the floor, illustrating concepts that couldn't exist in reality. Flares of multihued light leaped from the crevices and canyons of the shifting diagrams. The inconstant light played on the bellies of the things that hovered Overhead.

Aboleths circled above the writhing floor, flying in perfect formation. One creature followed the next through the air, creating a great ring that could have spanned a city bazaar. Each creature glowed with phosphorescent vigor.

Some of the aboleths were human sized, others were two or three times larger. Many sported hides of brown, rust, jade, and even white. However, several were black as ebony, and these were large as dragons.

Angul presumed these were elder aboleths, old beyond the reckoning of history and swollen with centuries of growth and fell power. They flew with their lesser kin in geometric formation, screaming out the repetitive stanzas of a magical working. The ritual they attempted sent shudders through the air with each revolution of their flying ring.

The mist pouring in from the ground-level entrances was sucked into a vortex shaped by the spinning ring of levitating aboleths. The vapor was constricted to a rivulet of white so dense it seemed a liquid, which spilled upward toward the chamber's apex, into the darkness high above.