"What does it mean?" Melisanda asked, breaking the silence. "I know ancient Untheric and Thorass, but that doesn't seem familiar. Something about the powers of shadow, bound in stone?"
"That's pretty close," Aeron admitted. He leaned back from the table, looking up at Melisanda. Absently he noted that dusk was near; the gray daylight was fading outside the library's shuttered windows, and it was quite dim inside. "The old Imaskari sorcerers used knowledge they'd learned from creatures of immortal evil to record their spells. They weren't priests, really-they didn't draw their magic directly from the dark powers they served. They only used what they'd been taught to work their own sorcery. As best as I can tell, this inscription is a magical seal or bond, the keystone of an enchantment that focuses or channels the Shadow Stone's power."
"Just as we might seal a door or strengthen a tower by inscribing it with words of power," Melisanda observed.
"Exactly. The ancient sorcerers couched their invocations in different terms, but the principle is the same." Aeron stood and paced away from the table, rubbing his hands together. "So how can we use this to undo Oriseus's spell?"
"Magical writings can be erased," Melisanda pointed out. "I know several counterspells and abjurations to neutralize or destroy signs, wards, and glyphs-"
"But if you forged your counterspell from the Weave, the Shadow Stone would merely absorb it," Aeron broke in. "I'd have to craft the counterspell from shadow-magic. It may be that the stone wouldn't cancel a spell made from its own substance."
"Do you know a spell of erasure?"
"No, I don't have one prepared." Aeron swore viciously. "And Dalrioc took my spellbook when he chained me in the shadow shrine. Damn!"
Melisanda slumped against the wall, tears in her eyes. "My spellbook was taken as well. So close-"
Aeron slumped to the floor, grimacing in defeat. He leaned back against the crooked bookshelves, trying to think of a way to get at some student or master's spellbook in order to borrow the spell he needed. Wizards guarded their spellbooks well. It would be dangerous, but what choice did they have? Time was short. Baillegh pressed her nose against his face as if to console him. He scratched her neck and looked down into his lap, considering the best choice for his desperate effort.
His eye fell on the smooth blue silk of Fineghal's pouch of spell-tokens, hanging from his belt. "Of course," he muttered. He undid the drawstring and poured the smooth stones into his hand. Fineghal usually traveled with several dozen of them, water-worn pebbles and rocks marked with old elven glyphs. Aeron had learned to cast his first spell from the elf lord's tokens. He sifted through them until he found a striated stone of green and gray, marked with a double-loop and curving symbol engraved in its cool surface. "Cuilla dheneis," he said, a smile beginning to play across his face. "The striker of marks."
Across the room, Melisanda looked up. "What did you say?"
"I said, I think we've got a chance," Aeron said. He crossed his legs and returned the rest of Fineghal's tokens to their pouch, holding the rune-eraser in his right hand. "I need to memorize this spell. Keep your eyes open for trouble; it may take me a while."
Time passed without measure, as the light slowly failed and dusk fell over Cimbar. Aeron couldn't say if it took an hour or even two to force the shape of the spell into his consciousness; he was tired, his chest still hurt from his fight with Dalrioc and his side ached from the novice's attack, and above all the driving awareness that he had to memorize Fineghal's erasure spell quickly slowed his efforts to master it. Eventually, he stirred and stood, dropping the green, smooth stone back into its pouch.
"I'm ready," he announced. "We'll have to go back to the plane of shadow. I have to be close to the stone in order to work this magic."
"That means returning to the Council Chamber." Melisanda scowled, looking out at the college's courtyard from behind the shutters. "Someone checked the door to the library while you were studying your spell, maybe an hour ago. There were a lot of masters and students moving around the college then, but I haven't seen anyone for a long time. I don't like this."
"Probably looking for us," Aeron said grimly. "Oriseus must have found Dalrioc by-"
Before he could continue, Baillegh growled and turned toward the great double doors of the library. The white wolfhound bared her teeth, moving to stand between the mages and the entrance to the room. Aeron sensed a presence just beyond the portal, a cold hunger and filthy blood-thirst that almost stained the air he breathed. He recoiled three steps without even realizing he'd given ground.
Melisanda paled and edged away as well, sliding around the scroll-littered table. In a frightened whisper she asked, "Aeron, do you feel it?"
He licked his lips and tried to swallow. "Yes. I think Oriseus has found us."
Malice and purpose gathered beyond the stout oaken door, pressing against the magical wards that barred entry to the library. For a long moment, the doors almost seemed to bulge inward from the psychic pressure-and then they flew open with a resounding crash. Through the smoldering wreckage emerged a humped, beastlike shape, its ichorous hide gleaming in the deepening dusk. An impossibly long, barbed tongue lolled from between its double-jaws. It paused on the threshold, snuffling loudly while its tiny ears twitched and cocked in different directions; Aeron realized that the creature had no eyes. A silver band marked with whorls and runes clasped one of its clawed forelegs.
"Aeron," hissed Melisanda. The creature's heavy head swiveled unerringly to face her, fixing her position.
"It's Oriseus's yugoloth," he replied quietly. "The same one we saw kill Master Raemon, all those years ago."
As he spoke, the creature turned to face him, too. It advanced slowly into the room, blocking the door with its stocky form. The monster coughed once, a throaty sound of satisfaction.
"What's it doing here?" Melisanda moved to put the table between her and the yugoloth.
"Oriseus must have summoned it to find us. That's what yugoloth do-they find things. Once it's got your scent, you'll never throw it off your trail." Aeron pulled his eyes away from the creature for a moment, trying to locate the other doors to the library. One was only about fifteen feet past Melisanda, off to his right. There was another about thirty feet directly behind him, but with one look at the yugoloth's powerful frame he knew he'd never reach it. Quietly he asked Melisanda, "Do you know the glamour of phantasmal sound?"
"Yes, I do. What's your plan?"
"I've read a lot about these creatures over the years," Aeron told her. The yugoloth was padding closer, moving up to an easy pounce as long as Aeron showed no sign of fleeing. "They're sightless. I'll conjure a cloud of noxious vapors, which should negate its sense of smell. If you can distract it with illusory sounds, we'll effectively blind it. That's our best chance. Ready?"
The Vilhonese noblewoman nodded. "I'll follow your lead."
Aeron glanced at her, and back to the approaching monster. Muttering under his breath, he started his enchantment. The magic he sought seemed to slip away from his fingers, almost wrenched from his grasp by the proximity of the Shadow Stone. He redoubled his efforts, shouting the simple words to the spell as he tried to shape the Weave through sheer force of will. Melisanda started her enchantment and struggled as well, her voice high and cracking with strain.
The yugoloth froze for a moment as the two mages began to weave their spells, and then rocked back on its heels as if to sit up, its mouth gaping wide. From its stinking maw it shot its vile tongue like a bullwhip. Aeron tried to dodge without losing the effort to build his spell, but the yugoloth's sticky tongue caught him lasso-like, whipping around his shoulders and pinning his arms to his side. With one toss of its armored head, the yugoloth jerked him off his feet and started to drag him to its gnashing fangs. The half-formed spell in Aeron's mind vanished in panic and pain as the stinging barbs dug into his flesh.