"You can make things out of it-solid, permanent things?"
"Well, nothing is permanent. The shadows are ever changing by nature. But yes, some of us can craft items, tools, furnishings, even weapons from it. Much of this castle is made of shadows, and it changes, most of it, only slowly. Learn to fear shadow here, for those who do not learn may die, killed by creatures out of shadow or by their own foolhardy actions."
"Some of you use magic, too," Shar said slowly.
"As with other humans," the shapeshifter said with a smile. "A few of us are mages; most are not."
"Forgive the manner of my asking," Itharr said quietly, "but you are… human?"
"Of course. We can take other shapes-as you your selves have found, shadow tugs at everyone who enters Shadowhome-but we are humans underneath the shapes we take."
"I was wondering about that," Belkram said, looking at his own hands.
Amdramnar spread his hands. "Here in my chambers, as in most inhabited rooms of the castle, the wild effects of shadow are lessened by enchantments and habit and… the force of our wills. Out in the passages, shadows play, though Malaugrym learn to counter unwanted effects until it becomes a habit. Your shifting marked you as mortal. Only the young of my family care to indulge in uncontrolled shifting as they go about the castle."
"I see," Belkram said. "Can we learn to control our own bodies?"
The Shadowmaster's shoulders lifted in a shrug. "Perhaps," he said, "perhaps not. Some have come to join our ranks and mastered shadow readily. Others never do."
"Some have come to join you?" Sharantyr asked. "From Faerun?"
"From many places," their host replied, raising his glass.
"Well then, why haven't we heard of you, across the Realms?" Itharr asked, frowning.
"Realms-wide recognition of us, and knowledge of our natures, is not something we welcome," Amdramnar said, his smile dimming a trifle. "So many folk in your world fear and hate others who have power they do not, or seek to seize such powers for their own purposes. The sorcerers of Thay and Zhentil Keep, in particular, have hunted us. Common folk from the Sea of Swords to the Celestial Sea think we're dopplegangers come to eat them, when our paths cross. We've grown rather tired of always finding swords thrust through our innards."
"But you do come to the Realms," Belkram said slowly, as if listening to some inner voice, "and take away women. Several sages have told us this."
Amdramnar raised his eyebrows. "Oh? It's not an amusement I'm personally aware of. Were they sure Malaugrym were taking maidens? This sounds like one of those 'dark dragon' tales old nurses scare young brats with."
"You need them for breeding," Belkram said inexorably, "because female Malaugrym are barren."
Their host shrugged. "Forgive me. I must reveal ignorance of this because, as you may have gathered, I am not a woman." He sipped at his wine and added, "I should warn you, however, that from what I do know-and know well-of the temperament of the ladies of my family, this is not a wise topic of conversation when you're in their hearing." He smiled faintly. "Ah, we do have a family tradition of duels-on the spot-to answer what are regarded as insults."
He set down his glass and added, "It seems you've made a good beginning at getting to know my kin, and I'd like to learn as much, if I may, about yourselves. It's not every day I meet visitors from Faerun upon the stairs."
Amdramnar leaned forward. "This much I can tell. You are friends, companions-at-arms, and know each other. You are adventurers, or at least more comfortable on forays into the unknown than say, a potter or cowherd might be. There my useful information ends. Tell me more, if you would, such as your names and where you hail from and whatever led you from there to Shadow-home."
"Belkram is my name," Belkram said calmly, "and that's Itharr. We're both rangers, wandering the Realms getting to know its ways, a common thing for folk in our line of work to do. One travels the wilds of Faerun, looking for the places one is loved and needed." Itharr nodded his agreement but said nothing.
"And I am Sharantyr," the lady Knight told him. I dwell in Shadowdale, and yes, I am an adventurer. We grew restless and accompanied a friend of ours on a journey as his sword escort. The Realms have become dangerous this last year, and he was headed through Daggerdale, which has been a perilous land for some time, thanks to the Zhentarim."
"Ah, yes," the Shadowmaster said with a bleak smile, "we've had our own occasions to thank those ambitious wizards of Zhentil Keep." He bent his head to one side, "Through Daggerdale, you say?"
Sharantyr shrugged. "He didn't… live to tell us his destination."
Amdramnar's eyebrows lifted. "Oh? Some misfortune befell him?"
"He was killed," she said flatly, "by some rival mages. A day ago. This morning, wandering open country in Daggerdale, we stumbled through some sort of glowing door and found ourselves here, in your castle."
"Oh? Where in the castle?"
They gave him three shrugs. "Somewhere shadowy," Itharr told him, straight-faced. The Shadowmaster almost smiled.
"I… see," he replied. "And who was your friend? 'Rival mages,' you said. Was he a mage of some reputation?"
"Oh, yes," Belkram replied quickly. "Quite famous, in the Dalelands at least. His name was… Elminster of Shadowdale."
Eyebrows rose. "I have heard of him, yes," Amdramnar said mildly, reaching for his glass. "He must have been, oh, several hundreds of years old, at least."
Itharr nodded. "We believe so." The Shadowmaster fixed bland eyes on him and seemed to be waiting for him to say more, but the burly ranger spread his hands to indicate he had no more to say, and kept silence.
"Would you judge that the gate that brought you here was of his making?" Amdramnar asked. "Could he have been taking you to it, perhaps?"
Sharantyr and Belkram spoke together, "No." After exchanging quick glances, Shar went on. "We don't think so. The place where we camped was not in quite the direction we'd been faring, and he'd said nothing of such things to us." She let a note of sadness creep into her voice and added, "He… liked to talk. There were very few things about magic that he didn't warn us about, not just on this venture but always, in all the time I've known him."
The Shadowmaster frowned. "I'm sorry to hear of his passing," he murmured, "though not all of my kin would share that view, I'm afraid. Some of the elders here in the castle are-were-sworn foes of his. Just what disagreements they had with him were very much before my time, so I've never known just why this… coolness… existed between Elminster and my kin." He stirred. "Nevertheless, Shadowdale-Faerun-has lost a great mage, and that's something all should be saddened by. 'Tis only the advances in magecraft that make life, in whatever small ways, better and better with the passing years. Are things seen this same way in Shadowdale?"
"They are." Sharantyr agreed. "Though the power of sorcery corrupts far too many men, and far too often, some good always finds its way down to the farmhands and the honest tradesfolk. His death diminishes us all." Amdramnar frowned over his glass, then looked up. "What you say leaves me downcast, but also curious. If Elminster of Shadowdale knew nothing of the gate that brought you here, how came it into being, and when?" He smiled thinly. "It's no secret that we haven't seen any stream of visitors from Daggerdale before you."
It was Itharr's turn to shrug. "Truly, we went through the gate by accident. We've heard of such things before-fireside tales of wizards fighting wizards are full of them-but we'd never seen one. At first, well, I thought it was some sort of trap to lure us, or even something to do with mating, that a will o' wisp had spun."