"What do you think I will do?" Borran Kiosk whispered.
The cold, dispassionate words hung in the emptiness of the room. The spider shifted, and for a moment Borran Kiosk thought she might try to escape from the building. The thought of a gigantic spider suddenly scuttling across the rooftops of Alagh?n amused him. Everyone in town would assume it was his handiwork, and in a way it would be.
"It is a group of wizards," Allis said. "They serve Malar, follow his bidding, and work to strike against the Emerald Enclave."
"Wizards?" The thought excited Borran Kiosk. "Compatriots, then?"
The promise of allies held a certain allure, but it might also mean having shackles. Since his return from the grave, Borran Kiosk had known no master and recognized no peer save for Malar. Meeting other wizards who served the Beastlord was not something Borran Kiosk looked forward to with any relish.
"No," the spider answered. "You'll find no friends among them. The wizards serve Malar for their own desires, and the only company they want is their own."
Starting to feel pain from the magic flame, Borran Kiosk put his other hand over the fireball, extinguishing it. He was certain the werespider didn't know extinguishing the fireball showed greater power than creating it. Unleashing destruction was always much simpler than harnessing the same energies.
"Return to your human form," he commanded.
Allis hesitated for a moment, then she quivered and slowly dwindled into herself. In only a short time, she stood naked before the mohrg.
Even though much of the way of the flesh had deserted him, Borran Kiosk still felt a hint of desire stir within him. The werespider was a beautiful woman, and standing before him as she did while totally defenseless made her even more desirable.
"How did you come to be part of this group?" Borran Kiosk asked.
"They recruited me," she answered.
"How?"
"By blackmailing me. And they made sure the Emerald Enclave knew of me."
"Knew what?"
"That I am dual-natured," she answered.
"Why should the Emerald Enclave care?"
"They think that lycanthropes who were turned rather than born are an abomination against nature and should be forced into one nature or the other or killed outright. Those born into the life naturally are tolerated as long as they remain true to themselves."
"The wizards are lycanthropes?"
"No." Allis kept her gaze directed over Borran Kiosk's shoulder, as if she were staring through him. "They all practice necromancy."
Borran Kiosk laughed, and the harsh, bitter sound echoed in the room.
He asked, "A league of undead wizards?"
"They aren't undead," Allis said. "At least, not the wizards I've seen, but they are all evil. The Beastlord offers them power, just as Malar offered you power all those years ago."
"The power didn't come soon enough," Borran Kiosk said. "I was unable to assemble the jewel in time to use it against the druids of the Emerald Enclave."
"Your task remains to assemble the jewel," Allis said, and the sparkle in her eyes told Borran Kiosk that she delighted in telling him that. Attempting it would surely draw the wrath of the Emerald Enclave down on him, though the fear never quite left her.
"You are to call down the destruction," Allis said, "that Taraketh's Hive will open for you. Once you have done that, the druids will be driven from Turmish-perhaps even farther beyond before they are able to gain mastery over the jewel's power."
Anger twisted inside Borran Kiosk. He spat out the thick purple tongue, tired of tasting the bile that seemed to hang in the air. "I do not do their bidding."
Allis lifted her chin and rebellion fired anew in her eyes. "You will."
Unleashing his tongue, Borran Kiosk splintered the wall to the side of her head.
She flinched, but only little, and swallowed hard again. Her gaze met his boldly for a moment before sliding away.
"The people who control you have no control over me," Borran Kiosk announced.
"They control whomever they wish," she told him. "You wanted Taraketh's Hive, didn't you?"
Borran Kiosk glared at her.
"They can take that from you," Allis said softly. "They raised the dead that you buried so long ago. They can just as easily return those cadaverous minions back into the ground somewhere short of Alagh?n, only this time the wizards will stop your minions in places that you won't know of."
"Don't threaten me, woman," Borran Kiosk warned.
"I'm not," Allis said. "I'm just stating a fact. Perhaps they'll even see to it that the priests of Eldath lock you away once again."
"They want something from me," Borran Kiosk said, and he found himself needing to hear that statement as much as he needed to tell the woman. "They won't let me fall so easily."
"If you prove difficult," Allis said, "they will."
Borran Kiosk turned from the woman, not wanting to believe her, but he did believe her. She was too calm, too complacent in her words, and she took a certain measured delight in passing them on.
"If your damned wizards come for me," he said, "they'll do so at the peril of their own lives."
"They won't come for you," Allis told him. "They won't have to. You'll be hunted all over Alagh?n after last night, and though it might take them time to bring you down, they will. They will withhold the gifts they offer you today, and they'll keep Taraketh's Hive from you."
"Gifts?" Interested, Borran Kiosk looked at the basket the werespider had placed on the slanted table.
Allis picked up her dress, which had been ripped considerably as she'd changed forms. Still, she pulled herself into it as best as she could. Her eyes never met his while she dressed.
Crossing to the table, Allis lifted the cloth from the basket and revealed the items inside. She took a small oval mirror from inside a black wooden chest that was filled with padding to protect the mirror. She waved a hand over the mirror, spoke words that Borran Kiosk almost recognized, and placed the looking glass on the tabletop.
"First," she said, "I bring you proof that the five you buried with the pieces of Taraketh's Hive have risen."
Borran Kiosk didn't need her mystic bauble to tell him that, but he remained silent. Even now he could feel them drawing steadily closer.
Allis pointed to the mirror.
Drawn by the sight of a figure moving within the glass, Borran Kiosk came closer. He peered into the mirror and saw a scene as though through a hazy fog.
A skeleton marched through swamplands with a long stride. Murky water came up to the skeleton's shins. In the hollows of its chest, lodged behind the breastbone, a jeweled cube burned bright and hard. The skeleton carried a short sword in one fist, and divots of mud still filled its cavernous eyes.
Allis waved her hand again, and the other four skeletons bearing pieces of Taraketh's Hive came into view, each in turn.
"You see," she said, "all is as I have promised. They have no will of their own but to serve Malar-and you-in the best way they know how."
"And what of the other gifts you said you bore?"
Reaching into the basket again, Allis took out a section of gray and pink coral almost as long as her forearm.
She held it out and asked, "Do you sense the death on this?"
"It's coral," Borran Kiosk said. He tasted the salty scent of it with a flicking caress of his tongue. "It reeks of death."
Intrigue filled him. Even after everything he'd done, all the foul murders he'd committed, nothing had tasted so exquisite.
"Where did you get this?" he asked.
"From the Whamite Isles."
Borran Kiosk's tongue leaped out again, drawing closer to the coral. "I've never tasted death like this. Not even that wrought by my own hand."
"There has never been death like this before," Allis said. "The islands are encircled by drowned ones and other undead. This was taken from the reefs that surround the Whamite Isles and was magically altered."
Borran Kiosk's tongue flicked out again, and he could sense the magic energies bound within the coral. It was the most powerful thing outside of Taraketh's Hive that he'd ever encountered.
Allis extended the coral to him and with some trepidation, Borran Kiosk accepted it. As soon as his bony fingers touched the coral, it grew, shimmering as it changed. In a heartbeat, the coral had formed an elbow-length glove of white and pink streaks that perfectly encased his hand. A buzz of power filled the mohrg.
"What is this?" Borran Kiosk asked.
"Power," Allis answered. "The power to wake the dead of the Whamite Isles and call them to you."
Borran Kiosk held the glove up before him, admiring it. For a moment, he worried that the mystic thing had ensorcelled him in some way, but he had safeguards-spells and magical items about him-that guaranteed such things could not easily affect him.
The power was real. He felt it surging within the glove and within him.
"Use it," Allis urged, "and you will raise an army to follow you back here to Alagh?n. No one will be able to stand before them. All of Turmish, and perhaps even the Vilhon Reach, will fall under your power."
Borran Kiosk flexed the glove upon his hand. It moved as supple as leather, far easier than even the flesh he could remember wearing all those years before.
"And these wizards that you serve," he said, "they want me to have such power?"
"Serve your own dark desires, Borran Kiosk," Allis said, "and you will serve theirs."