"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.
All of the hardware featured a similar motif: a jawless skull in a sunburst.
The hairs on the nape of his neck rose. He understood in that moment what the Shadowlord had intended all along, why he had required Riven to escape with the slaadi from Demon Binder, why he had wanted Riven to play his part through to the end.
The tower was once a temple to Cyric, Mask's enemy. The Sojourner had taken the entire structure, and presumably murdered its priests. The god of shadows and thieves had manipulated all of them-all of them-to orchestrate the grandest theft of all. He'd arranged to steal an entire temple of the mad god.
Riven marveled at the scheme. It had been a bold play, as bold as he had ever seen. And he had been the Shadowlord's hand in the play. Or at least one of Mask's hands.
He could not help but smile, and the smile turned into a chuckle.
"You are amused?" Azriim said. The slaad held out his hand and examined his fingers, and his brow furrowed.
"What is happening?" Dolgan asked. He too stared at his body as if it were a foreign thing.
"Not amused," Riven answered, still chuckling. "Free."
"Free from the Sojourner," Azriim said, and nodded. His voice had grown deeper. His claws were longer. "What is happening to me?"
"No," Riven said. "Not from the Sojourner. From you two. From this charade."
Riven knew that Mask wanted him for one more thing.
"What do you mean?" Azriim asked. The slaad's gray skin bubbled and stretched, as if something were moving just under it.
"Allies and enemies, slaad," Riven said, and sneered. Riven's feigned allegiance to the slaadi was over. He was allies only with Cale, his brother in faith.
Azriim caught his tone and backed up a step. Dolgan began to growl.
"Enemies, I take it?" Azriim asked.
"Enemies it is," Riven answered. He drew his blades. He knew that the Sojourner was not in the tower. It was just him and the slaadi.
"You're standing in my temple," he said.
Azriim's gaze narrowed. "Your temp-"
The word turned into a bestial scream that Dolgan echoed. The slaadi raised their hands to the ceiling and roared. Veins, muscle, and sinew lined their flesh.
Riven stepped backward, unsure of what was happening.
The slaadi began to change. As before, when Riven had watched the Sojourner transform them from green slaadi to gray, now they were transforming before his eyes into something even greater. A chaotic flash of colors sheathed the slaadi. Both went rigid; both roared at the ceiling. Their claws extended; tufts of skin sprouted from under their chins; they grew slightly in stature; fangs darkened; green-gray skin lost its mottling, became like dark slate.
Then it was over. The slaadi eyed him with hunger in their eyes.
Riven pulled his holy symbol from under tunic and let it dangle openly. He knew the slaadi had just become more dangerous but he held his ground. Mask had put the temple under his feet, and he was a Chosen of Mask. He would not abandon it.
* * * * *
Cale and Jak stood on the deck of Demon Binder, surrounded by crewmen, all of them staring up at the dawn.
"Gods," Jak whispered.
Cale watched the rocky sphere slowly swallow the sun. He knew it was the Sojourner's doing. It had to be. Whatever the creature was planning, it was about to happen. Cale had seen enough eclipses on Faerun to know that a partial eclipse in one region might be a full eclipse in another. He knew that wherever the Sojourner was, the eclipse was total. The water rose, causing the ship to bob.