His friends waited. Behind them, Selydra’s swordwights watched impassively. “There is a portal network within this city,” Araevin said. He nodded at the mosaic, and lowered his voice. “We can return to the palace any time we like. For that matter, we can go anywhere the portals reach.”
“Can you tell where all of the portals are?” Jorin asked.
“Yes, though I couldn’t begin to guess what might be waiting for us on the other side of each door. I think I’ve already seen several of the portals, though.”
“So what do you propose?” Nesterin asked.
Araevin shot a look at the swordwights surrounding the company. “I think it is clear that anyone who employs servants such as these cannot be trusted. Our hostess intends to ensnare me if she can. Instead of waiting for her to spring her trap, I think we should try for the shard.”
“We won’t be welcome in Lorosfyr for very long,” Donnor observed.
“Good,” said Maresa. “It’s cold and it’s dark and I hate this place. I’m with Araevin.”
Jorin, Nesterin, and Donnor exchanged looks, and nodded. “We agree,” the Lathanderite said quietly. “How do we begin?”
“Stand on the mosaic,” Araevin said.
He led his friends to the center of the courtyard and paused on the delicate tile. The swordwights followed, but only two of the creatures actually stopped on the mosaic itself. Araevin took a deep breath, and began to work a portal-waking spell.
Selydra’s minions fixed their dead gazes on him but did not intervene. Evidently, the Pale Sybil had not instructed the creatures to stop Araevin from casting spells that did not obviously violate their instructions. That will change in a moment, he decided. Beneath his outstretched hands the blue, green, and purple chips that made up the old mosaic awoke to luminescence. Confidently Araevin grasped the metaphysical presence of the gate and reshaped its governing rules to suit his needs.
“Be ready,” he warned his friends.
The mosaic glowed brighter, and suddenly seemed to vanish beneath their feet. There was an instant of motion, and Araevin and his friends were standing in the courtyard of the sussur tree, in front of the portal he had seen before. The two swordwights who had been standing on the mosaic when Araevin cast his spell stood alongside them. Despite their lifeless silence, the creatures were quick to realize that the travelers were no longer where they were supposed to be. The two Lorosfyrans raised their halberds and rushed at Araevin, but Jorin and Donnor intervened. In the space of ten heartbeats Araevin’s friends cut down the undead creatures.
The sun elf quickly swept the courtyard with his eyes, thinking. He settled on a hallway leading into darkness on the far side of the plaza.
“This way,” he said, and he loped across the flagstones under the white tree and took the steps at the far end two at a time, descending into a long passage that ran deeper into the palace. Whatever else happened, he did not want to linger too close to the sussur tree and its null-magic aura.
The small band hurried through the dimly lit corridors, past huge empty chambers and echoing halls. Araevin paused every few yards to stretch out with his senses, seeking some hint as to the direction of the second shard. It was close, he could feel it, yet it was not clear which passages might lead him closer to his goal. They broke out into another courtyard, this one a narrow cloister surrounded by high walls, and headed for the hallway that continued on the far side.
They were halfway across when dozens of the swordwights poured into the court ahead of them. Araevin halted, and started to retreat the way they had come-only to meet more of the creatures following them, with one of the pallid giants shambling up behind.
“Well, I did not think that Selydra would be truly surprised if we tried for the shard,” Araevin said.
“Damn the luck,” Donnor grated. The Lathanderite took a deep breath and dropped the visor of his helm. “Forward or back, Araevin?”
“Forward,” Araevin answered.
He turned back to seal off their pursuers with a spell, but a strange white radiance abruptly glimmered in the ranks ahead of them. Streamers of pale mist collected in mid-air and coalesced into the form of the Pale Sybil. Cold fury blazed in Selydra’s eyes as she glared at the travelers caught in the center of the courtyard.
“I had thought better of you, Araevin,” Selydra hissed. “While you took your rest in my hall and dined at my table, you plotted treachery of the basest sort! Why, you are nothing more than a common thief.” She drew her scepter of black platinum from the folds of her dress and motioned at the bronze-armored swordwights accompanying her. “Slay all but the mage,” she commanded. With dull rasps the creatures drew their weapons and rushed at Araevin and his friends.
“Donnor, keep her minions at bay!” Araevin barked. “Leave Selydra to me.”
She faced Araevin, her dark eyes narrowed. Araevin did not strike at once, instead waiting to counter whatever spell the Pale Sybil attempted. Selydra hesitated as well, doubtless intending a similar strategy. For a moment neither mage began casting, and they watched each other warily as Araevin’s comrades leaped forward to meet the silent rush of the Pale Sybil’s minions. Steel rang against bronze as battle was joined.
“It seems that one of us does not have the measure of his or her foe,” Selydra said softly. “Let us find out whom.” With a small scowl, she began to speak an enchantment designed to ensnare Araevin’s mind and bend his will to hers.
Araevin hastily incanted a negating spell. For a moment Selydra’s voice seemed to whisper enticingly in his ears, but then the enchantment unraveled and dissipated. He waved his hand to brush away the fading embers of her spell and gather himself for the next enchantment, expecting another attack on the heels of the first.
“I see you are not so easily taken, Araevin,” Selydra called. “I knew you would prove a worthy adversary!”
“I have no wish to be your slave,” Araevin answered.
He began a spell of his own, summoning out of the darkness a whirling chain of emerald-glowing links. The chain crackled and hissed with an oddly grating sound, growing louder and stronger as it emerged from the shadows over Selydra’s head. With a confident turn of his hands he shaped the emerging spell and moved to catch the Pale Sybil in a tightening globe of magical energy.
Selydra frowned and attempted a counterspell. But she failed to excise the spinning green chain that settled around her. Araevin sensed victory-the spell chain would make her own spellcasting nearly impossible if she allowed it to bind her. But at the last moment the enchantress abandoned her attempt to cancel the spell with her own Art, and instead flicked her platinum scepter out to parry the tightening chain. In the space of an instant Araevin’s spell chain vanished, its energy absorbed by Selydra’s scepter.
“A potent spell,” the Pale Sybil murmured.
A dark look flickered across her cold and perfect face. She wove her hands sinuously together and muttered powerful, perilous words. The very stone around Araevin’s feet seemed to groan in reply, and from her outstretched fingertips a sickly purple ray lanced out.
Araevin recoiled in alarm and barked, “Iorwe!”
In the space of an instant he slid out of the path of the lambent ray, conjuring himself a dozen feet from where he stood. The Sybil’s spell arrowed past him to strike one of her own warriors dueling Jorin on the opposite side of the courtyard.
The luckless swordwight crumbled into dust and bits of pitted bronze.
Jorin spared a quick look over his shoulder and grimaced. “Bane’s black fist,” he muttered. “That was too close.” The ranger twisted out of Selydra’s line of fire and engaged a new foe.
Ignoring the destruction behind him, Araevin responded by fanning his fingers out before him and invoking the brilliant, many-colored rays of his prismatic blast. Rays of blazing red fire and crackling yellow lightning shot past the Sybil, and the beam of emerald poison she parried with a graceful flick of her glossy black scepter.