“Do not be hasty, boy,” Dyrr cautioned him. “You gave away nothing that I did not already know. I have been aware of the House of Shadows for quite a long time.”
“I am impressed,” Nimor said.
“On the contrary, you believe that I am making empty boasts.” Dyrr pointed at his own temple and smiled coldly. “I am not given to bluffing or making wild guesses. Long ago I discerned a pattern of activity that spanned a number of the great cities of our race and inferred the existence of a secret league between seemingly weak minor Houses, each renowned for the skill of its assassins, each reputed to be governed by its males, each a secret ally of the others. These families that otherwise would have been devoured by their ambitious matriarchal rivals instead survived through the convenient and violent deaths of any emergent enemies. Though I find it ironic that any particular House of the Jaezred Chaulssin must, by definition, be considered the blackest sort of traitors to the city unfortunate enough to host them. Placing loyalty to your House above loyalty to your city is not a particularly egregious sin, of course, but to acknowledge a tie of loyalty to a House in another city all together, that is something entirely different, is it not?”
Nimor kept his mind carefully empty and said, “You seem to know all our secrets.”
He studied the wizard carefully, trying not to let the calculations he performed in his mind show.
“Not entirely true,” Dyrr replied. “I would give much to know how your brotherhood orders its Houses, where your true strength is held, and who rules your society. You name yourselves after the city of Chaulssin, which fell into shadow many hundreds of years ago. I wonder about the significance of that appellation.”
He knows more than we can permit, Nimor thought.
He glanced up sharply at the old wizard, realizing that Dyrr would have noted that thought. The ancient mage simply studied him with his weak gaze and inclined his head. The assassin regained the mastery of his thoughts and decided to change the subject.
“For the sake of our friendship, I respectfully submit that it would be best for all involved if you did not do anything with your knowledge that would draw it to anyone else’s attention. We feel quite strongly that our secrets are best left that way.”
“I will do as I wish. However, I do not wish to incur your enmity. I think it would be inconvenient to have the Jaezred Chaulssin as my enemy.”
“It is not merely inconvenient, Lord Dyrr; it is invariably fatal.”
“Perhaps. In any event, I will keep your secrets.”
The old drow laughed softly, clutching his staff with his withered hands.
“Now, let’s get to our business, young one. You and your fellows demonstrated no small amount of ability in the murder of Matron Mother Tlabbar, the enemy of my House. Very well, I am suitably impressed. What is it you want of Agrach Dyrr?”
“I need an ally in Menzoberranzan, Lord Dyrr, and I have a strong suspicion that you might be that ally.” Nimor leaned forward, offering a sly grin. “Events now proceed in this city that will lead to the downfall of the Houses ahead of yours. If you choose to be a part of those events, you will find that House Agrach Dyrr is possessed of a great opportunity to order the city largely as you like. We believe you can help us to steer Menzoberranzan through the difficult times ahead.”
“And if we refuse, we die?”
Nimor shrugged.
“Given the uncertainty of matters as they stand,” said Dyrr, “I am hesitant to embrace a cause I know little about.”
“Understandable. I will, of course, elaborate, but I hope you will recognize the wisdom, in these uncertain times, of taking aggressive and resolute steps to create the certainty you wish to see. Impose your vision on events, instead of allowing events to limit your imagination.”
“Easy words to speak, young one, but more difficult to render into action,” Dyrr said.
The ancient wizard fell silent for a long time, regarding the rakish assassin with a baleful, unblinking gaze. Nimor met his eyes without flinching, but he found himself wondering again what hidden strength the Agrach high mage must hold. Dyrr smiled again, doubtless reading Nimor’s thoughts, and shifted in his seat.
“Very well, then, Prince of Chaulssin. You have awakened my curiosity. Explain exactly what you mean, and what you plan, and I will say if House Agrach Dyrr can stand by your bold actions or not.”
“Gather closely, dear friends,” Pharaun said with a flourish, “and I will explain a few things it would be wise to remember while we walk within the shadows.”
The wizard stood confidently in the center of the chamber, arms folded, showing no hint of the exhaustion or despair of the day’s desperate flight. Stirring from his Reverie shortly before sunset, he had spent almost an hour preparing dozens of spells from his collection of traveling tomes.
While no one bothered to draw closer to the wizard, all focused their attention on him. Pharaun grinned in delight, pleased as ever by the attention. He knotted his fists behind his back as if lecturing to novices at Sorcere, and began.
“When we are ready, I will lead us along a path that skirts the Fringe—the borders of the Plane of Shadow. We will travel quite swiftly, and minor inconveniences such as icy mountains, hungry monsters, and thick-headed humans won’t trouble us in the least. I expect a walk of ten to twelve hours to reach Mantol-Derith, provided that I do not become lost and lead you all into some grisly demise in an uncivilized plane far from Faerûn.”
“You fail to reassure me, Pharaun,” Ryld sighed.
“Oh, I haven’t ever gotten myself lost in the Shadow Deep, nor do I know of a wizard who has. Of course, one would simply never hear from such an unfortunate fellow again, so perhaps a mishap in shadow walking might explain the disappearance of a young mage I knew—”
“Get to the point,” Quenthel snapped.
“Oh, fine. There are two important things to remember, then, for those of you challenged by the effort. First, while we need fear no difficulties in this world while we walk, we gain no special protection from the hazards of the Plane of Shadow. There are things in that place that will object to our passage if they happen upon us—I encountered one such creature the last time I traveled this way, and it was very nearly the last of my marvelous adventures.
“Second, and most importantly, do not lose sight of me. Stay close by and follow me diligently. If you lose contact with me while we traverse the Plane of Shadow, you will likely wander its gloomy barrens for all eternity—or until something terrible devours you, which will probably happen rather soon. My attention must remain on maintaining the spell and navigating the Fringe, so don’t make it easy for me to misplace you, unless of course I don’t like you, in which case please feel free to amble the Shadow Deep at will.”
“Will the lamias be able to follow us?” Ryld asked, his eye still on the passage leading back to the ruins above.
“No, not unless they have a wizard as learned and charming as I, and he knows a spell that permits one to track shadow walkers, which I do not.” Pharaun smiled.
“You will be able to shake the dust of the surface from your boots, friend Ryld. Concern yourself no more with the perils of this place, and save your worry for what we might meet on the Fringe.” The wizard glanced around, and nodded to himself. “All right, then. Take each other’s hands—there’s a good fellow, Jeggred, you can get everybody at once, can’t you?—and be still while I cast the spell.”
Pharaun raised his hands and muttered a series of arcane syllables, working his spell.
Halisstra stood between Danifae and Valas, their hands linked. The great subterranean gallery grew somehow darker, if such a thing could be possible in an unlit room underground. Drow could see quite well even in the darkest places, but it seemed to Halisstra as if some kind of murk hung in the air. At first glance, it seemed that Pharaun had succeeded in little more than conjuring a gloom around the party, but as she studied her surroundings more closely, she realized that she was indeed no longer upon Faerûn. A preternatural chill gnawed at her exposed skin, radiating from the cold dust beneath her feet. The high, rune-carved columns that lined the space were twisted caricatures that loomed bizarrely out over the chamber’s open floor.