He put his palms flat on the floor of the tower and let the magic flow through him and into the stone. The silver wall of numbers swirled through the tops of his hands and into the tower.
The entire structure shuddered. A glow in the stone started at his palms and rapidly spread to the rest of the sanctum, to the rest of the tower. The structure amplified the magical power Vhostym channeled into it until the spire itself radiated with power. Numbers and equations raced along the walls, glowing silver.
Vhostym pictured in his mind the largest of Selune's tears, a perfect sphere of rock roughly fifty leagues in diameter, almost exactly a twentieth of Selune. Vhostym needed to bring the tear closer, such that its distance from Toril was a twentieth that of Selune's distance. He would have preferred using Selune itself, but not even his empowered magic could control a celestial body that large.
He spoke the words to the spell that would pull the tear to the place Vhostym needed it. There it would remain, awaiting dawn, when it would put a hole in the sun and cast its shadow on the Wayrock. The magic would continually adjust the position of the sphere against the sun, so its shadow would not race across the surface as Toril continued to spin. Instead, his magic would move the tear with the sun-the shadow would remain stationary on the Wayrock throughout the day.
Speaking the final phrase of power, Vhostym channeled all his energy into the tower, sent it soaring in a beam from the top of the spire and into the Sea of Night. Vhostym felt the beam's magic take hold of the tear and pull it toward Toril. He could not contain a shout of joy.
It would be in position before dawn. Once he pulled it from its orbit, the spell would move the tear so that its surface would not reflect the light of the sun, as did Selune. It would move through the night sky in darkness, but Faerun would wake to the sight of a new satellite in its sky.
When Vhostym released his hold on the spell, exhaustion settled in and he sagged. Fortunately, nothing more remained for him to do. The tower still vibrated, still glowed, and Vhostym knew that a beam of magical energy reached from its top and into the night sky, where it pulled a ball of rock the size of a city toward Toril. The spell would remain in effect until the mantles of Skullport and Sakkors were utterly drained-about a day, perhaps two, Vhostym had calculated.
Despite his mental fatigue, despite the pain of the disease that wracked his bones, he smiled.
He had now only to recover his strength and wait for the dawn. Then he would exit the tower and walk under the Crown of Flame in his own skin, as he had done in his youth.
After that, he would die content.
Magadon opened his eyes. His blurry vision cleared and he found himself staring up at the grinning face of Captain Evrel. A faint breeze stirred a sail. The sky behind the captain was brightening with the rising sun.
Magadon was lying flat on his back on the deck of Demon Binder. His head felt as if it had been beaten by a war hammer. Each thump of his heart caused his temples to throb.
The last thing he remembered was … moving the ship to Selgaunt. He recalled the power the Source had given him, its taste, its feel. He felt empty at its absence. He longed for another taste.
"There you are," the captain said. "Welcome back."
A relieved rustle arose from around the deck. The crew, Magadon presumed.
A gray-haired man in nightclothes and an overcloak stood beside Evrel, looking down on Magadon with a soft expression. The man held in his hand a thin chain from which hung a bronze symbol-a shield-shaped pendant engraved with the image of a cloud and three lightning bolts. Magadon did not recognize the symbol but he assumed the man to be a priest.
"He is fine now," the gray-haired man said to Evrel. He smiled down at Magadon. "You will be well."
Magadon tried to thank him but his mouth was too dry to speak.
The priest said, "No need to speak, goodsir. Rest, now. Evrel is a very old comrade of mine and it was my pleasure to do him this service." He eyed the captain sidelong. "But he must think highly of you to have roused me from my sleep."
"He saved the ship," Evrel said. "And all of us besides. I tend to think highly of such men."
Beyond Magadon's sight, several members of the crew voiced agreement.
The priest nodded, straightened his cloak, and said to Evrel, "Be well, my friend. It's back to the sheets for me. Valkur keep you and your crew."
"My thanks, Rillon. A drink soon."
"Soon," Rillon agreed.
The two clasped arms and the priest walked away.
Evrel extended a hand to Magadon and pulled him to a sitting position.
"I was afraid to move you until I had a priest at my side," the captain explained.
Magadon nodded in understanding. Crusted blood caked his face, his neck, his ears. He rubbed it off as best he could.
Several crewmen approached and offered Magadon thanks or a comradely thump on the shoulder. The guide nodded in response.
"You've allies here, now," Evrel said. "Me included. I've never seen anythin' like that. Talos take me, but I hope never to see it again."
Magadon did not know if the captain meant the kraken or Magadon's movement of the ship or both. He swallowed to moisten his throat and croaked, "My comrades? Erevis and Jak?"
Evrel's expression fell. "They never came up from the bottom."
"Yes, they did," Magadon said, and allowed the captain to pull him to his feet. His consciousness, while expanded by the Source, had felt Jak and Cale reach the surface and escape the kraken into the shadows. Cale's last words to him had been: Selgaunt, Mags.
Magadon's mental strength was limited. He still had a latent connection to Riven but otherwise had little left with which to work.
"You look. . different," Evrel said, but Magadon ignored him. Still leaning on Evrel, he summoned a mental reserve and reached out for his friends: Erevis. Jak. Do you hear me?
Cale thought he heard Magadon's voice. He snapped awake and sat up. It did not repeat.
Had he dreamed it?
Mags?
Yes, Magadon answered. Yes. Erevis, I'm glad to know you're all right. Jak?
Cale grinned and reached out to shake Jak.
"Little man," he said.
Jak sat up, grinning. "I hear him."
We're glad to know that you are all right too, my friend, Cale answered. Where are you now?
Selgaunt's docks, aboard Demon Binder.
Cale and Jak shared a look of surprise.
How in the Hells did that happen? Jak asked.
Magadon hesitated, and when he replied, his mental voice sounded grim. That is a story for later. For now-
Cale answered, We're on our way.
Cale and Jak rose and sprinted through the streets toward the dock district. They stopped only long enough to throw a few fivestars at a shopkeeper in exchange for new boots and new cloaks. The sky was lightening above them. Dawn began to swallow the stars. They had slept only a few hours. Behind them, the Tower of Song rang the hour and the Sanctum of the Scroll promised doom.
Cale and Jak located Demon Binder at one of Selgaunt's piers. Gouges from troll claws marred the hull and the sails were shredded. Magadon met them at the gangplank, leaning on Captain Evrel. The guide looked drawn, as haggard as Cale had ever seen him. He was not wearing his hat and Cale saw that the small stubs of his horns had grown half a finger's length overnight.
Magadon and the Captain hailed them, smiling, as did several members of the crew.
Cale returned their greetings and he and Jak embraced Magadon, clasped Evrel's forearm in turn.
"We thought you two were dead," Evrel said.
"Damned close," Jak said.
Evrel nodded. "Damned close for all of us. The whole ship would have been lost if not for this one." He indicated Magadon.