The homunculi clapped with glee.
Rivalen put a hand to his holy symbol as the image cleared. With his other hand, he took from his pocket one of the coins from his collection that he had pocketed for the occasion: a five-pointed Sembian fivestar, stamped in 1371 Dalereckoning to commemorate Overmaster Selkirk's ascendance to power. He flipped it over his knuckles, a nervous habit, and waited.
The face of the scrying cube showed a balding, bearded man asleep in an ornate bed. Dyed silk sheets covered his tall frame. The soft glow of embers provided the only light.
He was alone.
Rivalen smiled and ran his tongue over his left fang. Another test-passed. He slipped the fivestar back in his pocket. Sembia would need another fivestar designed and stamped for 1374, to commemorate the beginning of a new overmaster's reign.
"Opportunity, indeed," Brennus said. "He is alone."
Rivalen concentrated to engage the magic-finding in his eyes, then examined the overmaster through the viewing cube. His enhanced perception showed him magical auras as fields of glowing color.
Two protective dweomers warded the overmaster, probably emanating from the two magical rings he wore. But neither would protect him against what Rivalen planned to do. Rivalen also saw the glowing lines of a spell of alarm that warded the overmaster's chambers. He frowned, even though he had expected a magical alarm. It could be defeated by dispelling it, which Rivalen did not wish to do, or by speaking the password, which Rivalen did not know.
"The wards are easily dispelled," said Brennus, who had his own ability to see magic.
"Dispelling them will not serve my purpose," Rivalen answered, but he had another idea. "Maintain the image."
Brennus did as Rivalen bade him, asking no further questions.
Rivalen lowered himself to a sitting position on the floor, drew on Shar's Shadow Weave, and spoke a series of arcane words. As he cast, he stared at the sleeping overmaster, let the image sink into his brain, and completed the spell by speaking aloud Kendrick Selkirk's name.
Instantly his consciousness separated from his body and streaked through the scrying cube at dizzying speed until it reached the overmaster's chambers. There, it oozed into the overmaster's mind and infected his dreams. The phantasm allowed Rivalen to adopt a guise pleasing to the overmaster in his dream, to use that guise to cause the overmaster to do what Rivalen requested upon waking.
Rivalen did not see Selkirk's dreams, nor did he know what guise the spell adopted for him. Instead, his mind hovered around the edges of the dreams until the spell captured the overmaster's attention. Rivalen felt the connection open.
He projected a compulsion through the spell and into Selkirk's dream: Upon waking, speak aloud the password of the alarm spell that wards your chambers. Otherwise, all will be lost.
The spell allowed no more, so Rivalen pulled himself out of the overmaster's sleep. In a fraction of a breath, his mind returned to his body. He opened his eyes to find himself once more in the scrying chamber.
"And now?" Brennus asked.
"And now we wait until he awakens and speaks the password. Then I will kill him."
Brennus nodded. "Do you wish me to accompany you?"
Rivalen shook his head. He was Shar's servant. He would do her will and he would do it alone.
"This is a task set by Shar for me alone," he answered.
Brennus accepted his statement with a nod. None of the other Twelve Princes disputed Rivalen on matters of religion. Even the most high accorded great respect to Rivalen's views when it came to Shar's faith.
"My gratitude, however, for the offer," Rivalen added.
The homunculi grinned, as did Brennus.
They spent the next few hours watching the scrying cube, waiting. Rivalen used the time to pray, to rehearse his plan, to toy with the Sembian coin. He had already committed to memory the many spells he would need, including several that he had memorized so they could be cast with only a thought.
"He stirs," Brennus announced.
Rivalen tensed, placed the coin back into his pocket.
The overmaster rolled over in his bed. His eyes opened, he blinked, and he sat up, a glazed look on his face.
"Machinations," he announced.
Rivalen knew that the puzzled frown on Selkirk's face would soon change to worried alarm, so he wasted no time. He spoke aloud the single arcane word that would transport him bodily across Faerun. The magic whisked him into the bedchamber of the Overmaster of Sembia.
"Machinations," he said as he appeared, preventing the magical alarm from functioning. He followed this immediately with one of the spells triggered only by his thoughts.
The magic took effect and silence cloaked the room. No sound could be made or heard within the chamber.
Selkirk saw him and recoiled. His mouth opened but his shout made no sound. His eyes went wide and he lunged for an exquisitely carved night table beside his bed.
Rivalen triggered a second spell and a swirl of magical shadows went forth from his outstretched hand. The dark tangle struck the overmaster, expanded, and wrapped his arms, torso, and legs in chains of shadow.
Selkirk struggled futilely against the bindings but managed only to fall off the bed to the floor. The Sembian's labored breathing, though silent, was visible even through the shadowy chains.
Rivalen stepped through shadowspace, covering the length of the chamber in a single stride, and knelt at the overmasters side. The acrid smell of fear rose from the Sembian's body. Words spilled out of his mouth-desperate words, to judge from his expression. Probably he was offering Rivalen wealth, station, trying to make a bargain. Rivalen had come to expect as much from Sembians. But even if Rivalen could have heard the words, he would not have cared what the overmaster had to say. Rivalen had not come to bargain; he had come to kill.
He put his hand gently on Selkirk's brow. The man's body went rigid and he shook his head over and over again. Rivalen would have respected him more had he shown defiance.
With a thought, Rivalen tapped the Shadow Weave and triggered a powerful necromancy spell. The overmaster might have been powerful enough to resist the spell, so Rivalen poured his power into the casting to make his fate certain and quick. The shade had no desire to prolong the Sembian's suffering.
Energy flowed out of Rivalen's hand and into the overmaster's body. It drove an arcane spike into the Sembian's heart. Selkirk arched his back, grimaced in pain, convulsed for a few moments, and died. His eyes stared upward; foamy spittle glistened in his beard.
Rivalen dispelled the bindings on the overmaster's corpse and they vanished. Using the strength granted him by the darkness, he lifted the body into bed and covered it neatly with the sheet. Wondering what Selkirk had been lunging for, Rivalen examined the night table. A glass vial stood near an oil lamp and a small pile of coins. The vial's contents glowed with a faint magical aura. Within it was a clear liquid. Rivalen tilted the bottle and the liquid grew cloudy. He smiled.
The potion would have turned the overmaster into mist, allowing him to escape the room, probably through a tiny bolt hole. It was a simple but prudent bedside elixir for a head of state. Rivalen placed the vial where he had found it and eyed the coins, tempted. One of the fivestars was dated 1374 Dalereckoning, the year Overmaster Selkirk had died. The overmasters profile was featured on the obverse.
Rivalen could not resist. He pocketed the coin. In his pocket, he had a fivestar minted in the year of Overmaster Selkirk's ascendance and a fivestar minted in the year of his death.
Coins are history, he thought.
He waved his hand to dispel the magical silence. Placing his hands over the overmaster's nose and mouth, he softly uttered the words to a powerful spell that severed the metaphysical tie between the Sembian's body and his soul. There would be no resurrection for Kendrick Selkirk.