Magadon smiled with embarrassment.
"You look different," Cale said to Magadon, as delicately as he could manage.
"The horns," Magadon said, nodding. "There have been … other changes too," he added, but left it at that. "I don't know what it means."
"I'm certain it's fine," Cale said, but was not sure it was.
Magadon shook his head and waved dismissively. "Forget all that. Listen to me. When the Source awakened fully, it called out to someone or something, called out across Faerun. I am concerned, Erevis. The Source is an item-a consciousness-of great power."
Cale and Jak shared a look. Evrel pretended not to hear.
"To whom did it call?" Cale asked.
Evrel cleared his throat. "I'll be leaving you to your business, then." He nodded to them and strolled up the gangplank.
"I don't know," Magadon said. "It called out in. . Netherese."
"Netherese?" Not even Cale spoke that ancient tongue.
Magadon nodded.
Jak looked from Magadon to Cale and said, "Do you remember what Sephris said? That we would summon the storm?"
Cale nodded. He remembered the loremaster's parting words to him-Sakkors is only the beginning. His skin went gooseflesh. He tried to put it out of his mind.
"I remember. And I hear your words," he said to Magadon. "But first things first. We stop the slaadi, we stop the Sojourner, and we deal with what comes after when it comes. Agreed?"
Magadon looked him in the eye, nodded. Jak too.
Cale said, "Do you still have the link with Riven?"
"I do," Magadon answered. "A latent link. But no strength to activate it, and no strength to project the image into your mind. Took almost all I had to contact you two."
"How long before you are ready?" Cale asked.
"An hour," Magadon answered. "Maybe two. I can recover some strength by then."
Cale nodded. They would wait aboard Demon Binder. They had no choice.
"Let's go aboard," he said. "Get you some food and rest."
Together, the three comrades climbed the gangplank and boarded Demon Binder.
Jak said, "And someone on this tub damned well better have a tindertwig."
CHAPTER 15
Riven, Azriim, and Dolgan aimlessly walked Selgaunt's streets as the false dawn lightened the sky. By accident, they had ventured near Riven's garret. He found himself scanning the streets and alleys for any sign of his girls, at the same time hoping and not hoping that he would catch a glimpse of them.
"What are you looking for?" Dolgan asked.
Riven chided himself for his carelessness. "Nothing. Mind your own affairs, slaad."
Dolgan grunted, Azriim grinned, and the three walked on. The street traffic was beginning to build as dawn approached. Shop doors and shutters opened. Farmers and their wagons entered the city and made their way to market. Sellers of sweetmeats and stale bread took their favored spots on the street. Riven gave a fat, already sweating sweetmeat seller his first sale of the day, purchasing two candied pears. He ate both without offering any to the slaadi.
"Where are all the clothiers?" Azriim said. "I am dressed like a pauper."
Riven knew several booths that sold clothing but did not mention any to the slaad.
Dawn broke and they walked on, awaiting word from the Sojourner.
Within a quarter hour, Riven noticed concern among the pedestrians. Eyes were wide; brows furrowed; strides were a step too fast. The rustle turned to an alarmed murmur.
"What is going on?" he said, more to himself than to the slaadi.
"What?" Dolgan asked.
A young laborer pelted down the street in their direction.
"Did you see it?" he shouted. "Did you see it?"
He looked like a madman.
Riven stepped in front of him and grabbed him by his cloak.
"Have you seen it?" the young man said, his breath coming in heaves. Riven saw real fear in his eyes.
"Seen what?" Riven asked.
"The sun," the boy said.
Riven gave him a shake. "What are you talking about?"
The daylight noticeably dimmed, then grew darker.
Riven released the boy and looked up to the east. The sun was too close to the horizon for him to see; buildings blocked his view. He jogged up the street until he reached an open square. The slaadi followed. So too did a gathering crowd of Selgauntans.
A small crowd had already assembled there, strangely hushed. All of them gazed to the east. Riven followed their looks and could hardly believe what he saw.
Overnight, another moon had appeared in the sky. A pitted sphere of dark rock hung in the sky just above the horizon line. It appeared as large as Selune. Its edge blocked part of the rising sun. The sphere did not move as the sun rose; it just hung there, foreboding, waiting. As the sun continued its ascent, the sphere ate more and more of its face.
Riven was too astonished to speak. Those in the crowd around him muttered in ominous tones. Others moved closer to each other, as though for comfort. Horses neighed.
"Has Selune abandoned us?" a woman cried.
A man said, "What in the Seven Heavens is it?"
"Where did it come from?" asked another.
"The gods keep us," said an old woman. "It is Alaundo's prophecies!"
Riven remembered the Sojourner's words and knew that the orb had nothing to do with the gods or prophets: Remember that what you see this day is my doing.
The Sojourner had summoned or created another moon. He was causing an eclipse. Riven marveled at the power represented in the sky.
In a flash, Riven understood the meaning of the Crown of Flame. But he could not understand why the Sojourner wanted to create it.
Beside him, Azriim chuckled, then laughed full out. Several people in the crowd looked at him as if he were mad.
Dolgan smiled tentatively and looked from Riven to Azriim.
"What is funny?" the big slaad asked.
Azriim laughed the louder.
A tingle in Riven's head announced the presence of the Sojourner.
It is finished, the creature said. This day is to be my last day, and I will spend it alone. Your service to me is over. Return to this place and claim what you've earned.
An image of a tower fixed itself in Riven's mind, a stone spire atop a mountain island in the Inner Sea. Riven recognized the island. Everyone who lived in a port on the Inner Sea had heard of the Wayrock. Sailors used it to aid navigation. But no mention of the Wayrock ever spoke of a tower on its top. The Sojourner must have raised it there, or moved it from elsewhere, just as he had done with the moon.
Dolgan and Azriim shared a glance, and Riven saw the eagerness in their expressions.
Playing to the end the part Mask had assigned him, Riven asked, And for me?
Name it, said the Sojourner, and the offer nearly caused Riven to renege on his plans. But he thought of his god, his girls, his. . friends, and held fast.
Let me consider.
There is only a short time, the Sojourner responded.
"We will come now," Azriim said, speaking aloud in his eagerness. "The human can choose his payment later."
The slaadi withdrew their teleportation rods and Riven did the same. Just before Riven made the final turn, he sent his thoughts to Magadon and spoke a single word: Wayrock.
The rod transported him across Faerun in a breath and he appeared with the slaadi in a door-lined chamber, presumably within the tower the Sojourner had showed them. The walls, ceiling, and floor glowed faintly silver, casting enough light for Riven to see by.
"The air feels strange," Dolgan said.
Azriim nodded.
Both transformed into their natural bodies-mottled gray skin, sinew, claws, fangs-and sniffed the air.
Riven felt nothing peculiar. He looked around the large chamber. Several doors led out to adjacent rooms and halls. The stylized door handles caught his eye. He stared at them, trying to discern their shape. When he did, the realization made his heart race.