Araevin surveyed the rest of the court carefully, and found a blank trapezoidal archway a short distance to his left. A portal like the one above, he realized. That might be useful later.
“The Pale Sybil comes,” whispered the dead warrior.
From another passageway leading into the courtyard, a ghostly pale light grew. Selydra drifted into the courtyard, still dressed in the raiment of silver and white in which she had first greeted her guests. Two of the hunched giants followed behind her, stooping to fit in the hallway. She paused, studying Araevin and his friends, her face set in a look of smooth, cool bemusement.
“Welcome, travelers,” she said. “I trust your sleep was restful?”
“Nothing tried to kill us,” Maresa said. The genasi made a show of gazing around the courtyard, admiring the stonework and the barren white tree. “What a strange tree that is! We don’t have any like that back in Waterdeep.”
“It is a sussur tree,” Selydra answered her. She seemed amused by Maresa’s insincerity. “It is rare indeed, growing only in those places where Faerzress exists in sufficient strength to nourish it. The tree subsists on the magical emanations of the Underdark.”
“Interesting,” Araevin murmured, feigning a calm he did not feel. “I have never seen anything quite like it.”
“I have found that Lorosfyr is full of unsuspected wonders,” Selydra said. She approached the company, and the sussur tree whispered softly as she came near. “So, Araevin, you have said that you have an urgent need for the gemstone in my possession. What is so pressing that you would leave the surface world and come here to find my shard?”
“I must sunder a very old and powerful mythal,” Araevin said. “Demonspawned sorcerers have seized the ruins of Myth Drannor for their stronghold and are protected by its ancient spells. Thousands of people will die or fall into slavery if I fail to stop them. No place in-or below-Faerun will be safe.”
“I am not unmoved by your plea, Araevin,” Selydra said. She descended into the court by the tree and sat on a stone bench, brushing her midnight hair away from her face. “But the artifact that has found its way into Lorosfyr could be gainfully employed here. You have no doubt noticed the swordwights who attend me here. There is an entity in this lightless place that consumes life and magic. These poor wretches were devoured by the hungry power in this old city. I think that the device you describe may hold enough magical power to finally slake the slayer of this city.”
“You have escaped harm so far, my lady,” Nesterin observed.
“Only because I have learned to… shield myself from its attentions, you might say.”
Araevin found himself glancing up at the impenetrable darkness over their heads. The courtyard was open to the sky, as it were. The vast and airy reaches of the monstrous vault soared for unseen miles above his head, and the darkness pressed down on him with a weight that was almost tangible.
“The Maddening Dark…” he murmured.
“It is alive, and it hungers,” Selydra said. “It devours its victims so slowly that they never even know they are being consumed. Truly, it is a wonder you made it down the Long Stair alive.” She folded her feet under her, and returned her attention to Araevin. “It would seem that we are at an impasse, then. I have need of your shard, and you have need of mine.”
“I will return you a shard as soon as I can,” Araevin said. “The Gatekeeper’s Crystal separates after each use, but I am reasonably confident that I can locate at least one of its pieces not long after I employ the device. I will bring it to you as soon as I can.”
“But if I have understood what I have learned from the shard in my possession, there is at least some chance of a much more violent separation, is there not? The three pieces might literally be scattered across the cosmos.” Selydra pursed her lips. “Even a mage of your skill might find it difficult to locate a piece after such an event.”
“If I cannot bring you a shard after I use the device, perhaps there is something else you might want? Some means of paying you for the use of the device?”
“The shard is virtually unique, Araevin. It is priceless. What might you offer?”
“What would you want?”
“Something of similar magical power, at the very least. Some artifact that I could use to content the hunger and keep it at bay for decades, perhaps centuries.”
“I am afraid I don’t have any such artifact to give you, Selydra,” Araevin said.
“Ah, but I know where you might obtain one on my behalf,” the Pale Sybil said. She smiled, stroking her chin with her fingers. Her nails were pale lavender. “In the Buried Realms under Anauroch lies a vault created by the unliving thaluuds, the so-called tomb tappers. I have reason to believe that a magical scepter was collected by a thaluud and taken to this vault. Bring me that scepter, and I would relinquish the shard I now hold.” The dark-haired sorceress paused, thinking. “I would prefer to have the scepter before surrendering my shard, but I suppose I might relinquish my shard first if you were willing to accept a geas to ensure your return with the scepter.”
Araevin was certain he did not want to give Selydra the power to command him through a magical geas. He remembered all too well Sarya Dlardrageth’s domination over him only a few short months ago. Mind-enslaving magic was something he had no desire to subject himself to. “No, I am not willing to accept a geas.” Selydra stood and paced away, her mouth turned down in a subtle scowl. “As I said. We are at an impasse. Neither of us will be the first to part with a shard.”
“A single shard is not of much use to me. I suspect yours is not much use to you. Only in combination does the Gatekeeper’s Crystal achieve its full potency.”
“But we still must answer the question of whose problem we address first.” Selydra folded her hands in her sleeves, and studied Araevin for a long moment with her dark eyes. Not a hint of white showed. There might have been the faintest suggestion of a violet iris around a large, black pupil, but otherwise her eyes were as cold and featureless as Lorosfyr itself. “You intrigue me, Araevin,” she finally said. “Why don’t you join me at my table tonight? I am eager for news of the world above, and I will be happy to hear you out at greater length. Your companions can rest and enjoy the hospitality of my palace, while you and I perhaps find some common ground in our appreciation of the Art. In turn, I may persuade you to consider my own… needs.”
Araevin thought he knew what sort of persuasion Selydra had in mind. The Pale Sybil watched him considering her offer, her lips pursed in a subtle smile. He felt the eyes of his companions on him as they awaited his answer, but there really was no alternative. He could not openly spurn her.
“Of course, my lady,” he said. “I will await your summons. In the meantime, my friends and I wish to see more of Lorosfyr. I am eager to read with my own eyes the stories this forgotten city might tell.”
“As I have told you, Araevin, Lorosfyr is most perilous. You and your companions would do better to remain in my care.”
“The apartments you have provided us are quite comfortable, my lady, but we are prepared to take our chances,” Nesterin answered. “Some mysteries invite the traveler onward, regardless of the danger.”
“So they do,” Selydra breathed. “I must insist that you proceed with an escort of my warriors, and you must not go where they tell you not to go. But if this is your wish, I will not deny it.” She folded her hands before her waist, and turned her dark eyes back to Araevin. “I will send for you when you and your friends return.”
Five days passed after the defeat of the daemonfey raid against Semberholme, and still Seiveril waited for some word from Ilsevele. He could feel the tides of summer turning, the forest’s subtle hints that the hottest days were already behind them. He dared not march against Myth Drannor while there was still any possibility that the Sembians might rediscover their allegiance to the daemonfey cause, but he could not wait much longer. Time was not on his side, and so he prayed to the Seldarine for guidance while hoping for his daughter’s return. He was deep in prayer when his guards summoned him to the lakeshore.