"Cold air is rolling down from the High Ice and picking up moisture as it sweeps across the lakes and grows warm," Telamont explained. "As the effect grows stronger, the winds will carry rain and fog farther south into Anauroch, forcing the hot desert air to rise and draw more winds down from the High Ice. The system feeds on itself. We are already seeing showers as far south as the Columns of the Sky."
Though Galaeron had no idea where the Columns of the Sky were-the name had a Netherese ring-he needed no explanation of what the shadow blankets meant for western Faerыn. He had already seen it in the blizzards plaguing Waterdeep and the deluges that had turned most of the farms south of the Ardeep Forest into hip-deep marshes.
"That is well and good for Shade," he said, "but what about the rest of Faerыn?"
Telamont's gloom-cloaked shoulders rose and fell. "Every good thing has a bad side. For Shade to reclaim its birthright, others must suffer." "This is too much," Galaeron said.
He looked toward the west, and the scene shifted to Daggerford, where the River Delimbyr's frigid waters had risen into the streets, and residents kept boats tied outside their second-story windows.
"Surely, you could pursue a more gradual approach, one that would not force so many into homelessness and hunger."
Telamont seized control of the world-window from Galaeron, bringing the shadowy dome over the Sharaedim into view. "I thought your concern was for Evereska." "The two are hardly related," Galaeron said.
"Aren't they?" Telamont asked. "Shade must be strong if it is to prevail. So whose people do you want to save, elf? Yours, or theirs?"
"That isn't the choice," Galaeron said. "Even at the rate you're melting the High Ice, Anauroch will take decades to restore. Evereska will be saved or lost in a year."
Telamont's murk-filled cowl tipped down toward Galaeron. "It is the choice I have given you, elf. Which will perish-Evereska, or the West?"
"I–I can't believe you would ask me such a thing!" Galaeron stammered.
He thought he had to be misinterpreting what he was hearing, missing some important nuance that would make clear what the Most High was really asking of him.
Something cold and angry rose inside him, and he understood. The Shadovar were trying to trap him, trying to corrupt him, perhaps, or test him, or move the burden of all those deaths from their heads to his.
Galaeron shook his head. "I see your game, and it won't work on me."
"You think this is a game?" Telamont lifted a sleeve toward the world-window. "Look and think again."
The scene had returned to the High Moor, where the princes of Shade and their legions were just rising from the dusky ground, thousands upon thousands of silhouettes peeling themselves out of the shadows and growing whole as they charged, flinging spells of umbral death and waving weapons of indestructible black glass.
Caught from the rear and the flank, the bugbears were roaring in confusion and fighting their beholder masters with far more ferocity than they were the Shadovar. One company of illithids was already under the black sword, while the other was rushing to fan out behind their battle lines and find the most powerful spell-flingers to target with their mind blasts. The search was proving a difficult one, for most warriors of Shade Enclave fought with both spell and blade, often slipping from one to the other with a grace that even an elf bladesinger would envy.
No more eager to engage the princes than the princes were to engage them, the five phaerimm hung back, assailing their enemy's ranks with fireballs, lightning bolts, and sheets of burning light that felled whole ranks of Shadovar. Though this last spell was one that Galaeron had never seen before, it bore a semblance to certain elements of a prismatic wall, and he felt sure it was little more than a simple modification the thornbacks had developed especially for combat against shades. That was when it hit him. "This battle is a diversion."
"An army that large may be many things, but a diversion is not one of them," said Hadrhune. "A force that size requires resources that our agents assure us the phaerimm dare not waste lightly."
'Tour agents don't know the phaerimm well enough to make that judgment," Galaeron replied, somewhat surprised to discover he felt he did. He pointed at a flickering fan of azure light. "That spell is a new one, designed for battle against Shadovar."
"Even if you could know that," Hadrhune began, "I fail to see-"
"I can know it, and you do fail to see," Galaeron interrupted, confident of his judgment. "If the phaerimm were expecting to do combat with the Chosen, they would not clutter their minds with spells designed for Shadovar- and they would not announce their presence by floating into battle fully visible."
All of Anauroch and western Faerыn appeared in the world-window, clouds stripped away to reveal the swollen rivers beneath. "What are they trying to hide?" Telamont asked.
Galaeron studied the divination for several minutes, focusing on the area around the shadowshell, Rocnest, and the Greycloaks for the longest period. Finally, he shook his head. "I can't see it."
"Perhaps because there is nothing to see," Hadrhune said. "With these five in plain view, we know the locations of all twelve phaerimm who escaped the shadowshell." "Your knowledge is current?" Telamont asked.
Hadrhune's amber eyes vanished behind their dark lids for a moment, then he nodded. "The shadow-watchers have seen them all within the quarter hour. Five are visible at this moment."
Galaeron nodded. "Of course. They would know we're watching."
"Our watchers would know if they were simulacrums or magic images," Telamont said. "Perhaps this is no diversion, after all."
"We cannot know what the phaerimm make of the shadowshell," Hadrhune said, smirking down at Galaeron. "It may be that they fear it is the Chosen's doing, and this army is part of their plan."
"Or it may be that the Myth Drannor phaerimm have a part to play in this," said Lord Terxa, whom Galaeron had not even realized was listening from the shadows. "What remains of the mythal there interferes with the shadow-watchers, and they are not even certain they have found them all."
Galaeron recalled how Melegaunt's shadow magic had failed inside Evereska's mythal but frowned and shook his head. "A good thought, but phaerimm are not social. They work together only when each one benefits personally, and there's no reason for the Myth Drannor phaerimm to think that helping the others would be worth their trouble."
Terxa's expression grew uncomfortable, and he peered into the darkness under Telamont's cowl. "Perhaps he should know, Most High?"
"Know what?" Galaeron was instantly resentful. "Now you are keeping secrets from me?"
Telamont's eyes twinkled as though he was amused- or satisfied. "Have you told us all your secrets, elf?"
He raised a sleeve, and a sleepy forest hamlet appeared in the world-window. Not too long past, a battle-or several-had been fought around it, for several new meadows had been burned into the woods around its boundaries. In front of a high tower not far from the heart of the village, a strange seam of distortion hovered in the air, emitting wisps of flame and dark fume.
"Many things are better kept secret," Telamont said. "Among them, deeds of shame done in moments of necessity."
Hadrhune moved to interpose himself in front of Galaeron and asked, "Most High, is this something-"
Galaeron stepped forward to block Hadrhune. "It is, unless you wish to let the phaerimm have their way with your legions." "He needs to know," said Terxa.
Telamont spread his sleeves. Flames and smoke sprang up in the charred clearings, and Galaeron began to see familiar cone shaped bodies drifting through the trees. A moment later, Elminster's familiar figure appeared over the village and began to circle.
"After Melegaunt summoned his brothers to the Karsestone," Telamont began, "Elminster was proving most difficult to locate. In order to find him, the princes found it necessary to slay a few of the Myth Drannor phaerimm-"