"We're all part of his spell, Aeron," Melisanda said. "We hold the pyramid together, and that draws the magic to this place."
"I don't understand."
"Rebuilding the monument is insignificant. It looks impressive, but it means nothing. Magic is drawn to this place because he's enslaved the souls of wizards here."
Aeron leaned back, ignoring the cold. "But we're not in the tower," he replied. "What is this place?"
She hesitated a moment before replying. "It's one point of a ritual diagram, I think. I don't know if you noticed, but this structure is nothing more than an open corridor or hallway. It takes seven turns around its circumference, so there's seven walls. Each of us is chained to one wall."
"I saw Baldon," Aeron said quietly. He thought on Melisanda's words for a time. Seven wizards, chained in a seven-sided figure. . but they weren't near the tower. "I wager there's six other places like this, all spaced at an equal distance around the Shadow Stone," Aeron said. "Seven times seven wizards, all dying to power Oriseus's spell, focused by the structure he raised at the College of Sorcery. That's the centerpiece."
"How far apart are they?" she wondered aloud.
"Who knows? The shadow doors in the chamber of the stone might be portals to each of these places. A hundred miles? A thousand? We have no way of knowing."
"I think you may be right," Melisanda replied. "Dalrioc told me there were other places like this." She fell silent again for a long time. Aeron made another attempt to extract his wrists from the shackles that held him, giving up in exhaustion. "Aeron? Why is Oriseus doing this? What is this all about?"
"Oriseus is not our concern," Aeron told her. "It's Madryoch." He went on to tell her what Oriseus-or Madryoch-had told him, and what he'd observed of the effects of the ancient sorcerer's spell. He ended up backtracking all the way to the awful night when he'd fled into the Shadow, out of his mind with the loathing and fear engendered by his first encounter with the stone, and recounting the years that had passed since that day.
When he finished, Melisanda described what had befallen her after she'd left the college. She had returned to her home in Arrabar, choosing to study in private, away from the intrigues of Cimbar's college. Just as Aeron had become a formidable mage with years of practice and study, Melisanda had become competent too. She used her talents to help her family defend their lands and keep peace in their home, gaining a reputation as a sorceress not to be crossed.
"How did you end up here?" Aeron asked.
"Dalrioc and a handful of his allies," Melisanda spat. "They lured me into an ambush, sending me an urgent plea for help from one of the merchant lords who lives near my home. He'd always been an ally of our house, so I went to his aid and found them waiting for me instead. Dalrioc tried to convince me to join him in his work, but I wanted no part of it. So they brought me here." Aeron heard her chains clinking as she struggled with them. "Damn it!"
"We'll think of something," he told her.
"I hope so." Melisanda's struggles subsided. There was a soft sob. "Aeron, it's cold."
"I know," he said. He closed his eyes, wishing he could at least see her from where he was trapped. "I know." They waited together in silence for a long time, until he lapsed into a restless, tortured sleep.
Something breathed warm, damp air into his face, rooting at his loose collar with an animal cough. Padded claws pressed into his shoulders as the creature leaned close, its heavy breathing filling his ears, the smell of wet fur cloying in his nostrils. Aeron awoke with an inarticulate moan of panic, struggling wildly, his hands and feet anchored in the stone.
A wet tongue licked his face, and the animal whined softly. Aeron opened his eyes, and caught a glimpse of silver-gray fur and dark, intelligent eyes. "Baillegh!" he cried. The elven hound barked once and nuzzled his face, her tail wagging in delight. "Assuran's shield! Where did you come from?"
"Aeron? What's happening?" Worry strained Melisanda's voice. "Are you all right?"
"Yes, I'm fine," he called back. "I've just been surprised by a friend, though." He looked back to the dog. She seemed thin and weak, as if she'd been lost a long time. Frowning, he tried to recall what had happened to her. She was with us outside the tower. . but I don't recall that she followed us inside. Could she have tracked us through the shadow doors? Or did she come cross-country all the way from Cimbar?
"Aeron?" Melisanda called. "What's going on?"
"Wait a moment," he answered. "I hope I'll be able to show you." He glanced up at the iron band that clasped his right wrist. Dalrioc hadn't welded the band shut; instead, it was a crude ratchetlike device that was secured by a short pin. He couldn't bend his hand back far enough to reach the pin; it was too close to the manacle.
"All right, Baillegh. Let's see if you're as smart as I think you are," he breathed. Staring into the hound's dark eyes, he bent his will to creating a clear image of the hound pulling the locking pin free. She barked once and turned to the shackle, stretching to her full length to reach it. Aeron grimaced as the hound's mouth closed over his wrist, but in a moment Baillegh dropped back with a sharp grunt.
The pin was clenched in her teeth.
Aeron pulled on the manacle, twisting it open and jerking his hand free. Ignoring the stinging abrasion on his wrist, he turned and undid the other manacle, lowering himself to the ground. The shackle that held his left ankle was jammed shut, but with his hands free and his body away from the dark stone wall, he was able to cast a minor alteration that caused the rusty iron to snap open, falling away from his legs. Impulsively, he reached over and hugged Baillegh, ruffling the hound's coat, and then stood and stretched.
"Come on. Let's see if we can help the others," he said to her. The hound licked his hand and followed behind him.
He stepped out of the alcove, turned right, and rounded the odd angle in the corridor. About thirty feet down the wall, Melisanda was pinned in another alcove. She'd been dressed in the layered skirts and blouse of a Chondathan noblewoman, but her dress was in tatters, revealing her white shift beneath. She was pale and thin, a cold and frightened waif, but the old light in her face returned with her smile, as she looked up and saw Aeron standing before her. "I knew they wouldn't keep you chained," she said.
Aeron reached up and undid her bonds, helping her down. He was shocked at how cold her skin felt when his hand brushed hers; she must have waited in this place for a long time. Her knees buckled when she stepped free of the wall, and Aeron barely managed to catch her before she fell. He half-carried her a few feet away, supporting her with his shoulder.
"Careful, now. You're not at your best."
Melisanda nodded and let him help her down the hallway. As she'd told him, it turned right at a sharp angle every fifty feet or so. The first alcove they passed was nothing but blank stone, with the manacles disappearing into the rock as if the hapless soul trapped there had sunk beyond recovery. Despite their best efforts, neither Aeron nor Melisanda could manage to free the wizard entombed within. They found that the rest imprisoned there were in little better shape. Even Baldon was beyond their aid.
"I think the only way to free them is to break or reverse Oriseus's spell," Aeron finally said. "We can't help them now."
"I'm afraid you may be right," Melisanda replied. "Well, what's next?"
"We've got to undo what Oriseus's done," he said slowly. "We have to go back."
"Overland, or do we risk the shadow door?"
"The shadow door's the only way. We might be able to scramble over that wall easily enough, but that leaves us stranded in some unknown place in the demiplane of shadow, without any idea of which way Cimbar might lie." Aeron scratched at his chin. "Yes, I think we have to risk the door that Dalrioc and Oriseus use to come and go."