"Once they realize I've taken this, I doubt they're going to trust us much further."
"I believe that time has come," Aris said. He pointed toward the floating city, where a single dark line could be seen descending beneath the enclave. "They seem to be turning in our direction."
"In the name of Kozah!" Ruha cursed. Still encased in her shadow web, she began to roll toward the shadowy side of the dune. "Quick, send your veserab and flying disk into the west. We will hide beneath the sands, then sneak away after they pass by."
Galaeron nodded and sent his veserab into the sky, then turned and rushed across the crater to where Aris was unloading his waterskins.
"Leave the water. There is no time!" he said, jumping onto the disk. "Get the blanket!" "The blanket?" Aris gasped.
"The blanket!" Galaeron said, hurling the heavy shroud into the crater. "Water, we can find later." ©• ‹§› •©• •Ђ›• •©•
To the eye of Keya Nihmedu, the silver magicstar drifting past the window of the Livery Gate watchtower looked even brighter than the sun that once blazed down on Evereska from high above the craggy peaks of the Sharaedim. It hurt her eyes even to look under it to the yellowing meadow that surrounded the city cliffs, and its light flooded the cramped chamber with a white brilliance that brooked no shadows.
The magicstar was no sun. It hissed and sputtered like a guttering torch and drizzled a constant trail of cinders in its wake, filling the air with the acrid stench of brimstone and lamp oil. When Keya closed her eyes, she could not sense it at all, could not see its glow shining through her eyelids or feel its heat sinking into her skin. It was as though the magicstar cast only the illusion of light or that its radiance simply lacked the true substance of sunlight.
It lacked something. Though there were more than a hundred of the spheres floating in and around Evereska, the grass continued to yellow, the great bluetops and sycamores still dropped their leaves, and the liliap blossoms withered and grayed. Even Zharilee and the other sun elves were beginning to lose their color and turn sickly shades of saffron and ocher.
Something would have to be done to bring real sun to the Vale, and Keya was not the only one who thought so. Khelben Arunsun was standing at the next window with Kiinyon Colbathin and Lord Duirsar, staring out at dying lands within the mythal and quietly arguing for an assault on the enemy shadow mantle.
"We need only a company of spellblades, a dozen Long Watch sentries, and the Cloudtop Magi Circle," Khelben was saying behind her. He motioned at Dexon and the other Vaasans, who had become a more or less permanent escort-when they were not at Treetop, eating and drinking the Nihmedu larder into nothingness. "We just need to hold our position long enough to attach a magicstar-"
Lord Duirsar raised a finger to interrupt. "Did you not say the shadow mantle was outside the deadwall, my friend?" "I did."
Keya turned just enough to see Khelben nodding as he spoke. While she was honored that Lord Duirsar and the others felt comfortable speaking of such matters in her presence, she was acutely conscious of the disparity in their ranks and tried to be as inconspicuous as possible in her eavesdropping.
"The shadow mantle's appearance suggested an interesting possibility," Khelben continued. "I'm beginning to think that the deadwall is actually three walls, a sphere of imprisoning magic sandwiched between two layers of dead magic."
Duirsar nodded eagerly. "That would explain why no spells can pass through it."
"Exactly," Khelben said. "So I may be able to burn through with my silver fire."
"Surely you've tried that before," Kiinyon Colbathin said, his too-gaunt face sneering in disapproval.
"I have," Khelben confirmed. "I've noticed a disturbance, but the imprisoning layer has always remained intact-the silver fire has no effect on normal magic- and the phaerimm have always come to chase me off before I had a chance to dispel it."
"Which is why you need assistance," Lord Duirsar surmised, "to hold the enemy at bay long enough for you to cast a second spell."
"A little longer than that," Khelben admitted. "The Cloudtop Circle would need enough time to cast a magic-star and attach it to the shadow mantle."
"I don't like it," Kiinyon said, shaking his sharp-featured head. "That will take easily a quarter hour. By then, my spellblades will be trying to hold off a hundred phaerimm. The circle would be doing good to finish its spell before they were all dead."
"The Vale is dying, Kiinyon," Lord Duirsar said. "We must do something, or the mythal will die with it. Keya, what do you think?"
Keya felt like her heart had leaped into her throat. "Milord?"
"About Khelben's mission!" Kiinyon snapped. "This is no time to play coy, Watcher. If we didn't want you to hear, we would have sent you to the rooftop."
Keya felt the heat rise to her cheeks. "Of course, Swordlord." She turned to address Khelben and found him looking at the ceiling with his head cocked and a vacant expression in his eyes. Eager to avoid another rebuke, she spoke anyway. "If Lord Blackstaff feels that our lives would be well-spent, I am sure I speak for Zharilee and the others in the Long Watch-"
Khelben raised a silencing palm, then spoke to the ceiling. "Laeral? Was that you?"
Lord Duirsar and Kiinyon exchanged astonished glances. They knew as well as Keya that while all Chosen heard the next few words when their name was spoken anywhere on Faerыn, the deadwall had limited the range of Khelben's ability to the Sharaedim. If he was in contact with Laeral, either she had entered the Sharaedim or something had weakened the phaerimm's barrier.
"Laeral, of course I'm alive," Khelben said. "I'm in Evereska."
The excitement was too much for the others in the room. Lord Duirsar and Kiinyon began to call Laeral's name and bark requests for weapons and magic, while the Vaasans inquired about Vala and whether the phaerimm had attacked their homes. Even Keya could not restrain herself from asking for news of her brother.
Khelben turned a dark eye on them all. "Do you mind?"
The room fell as silent as a tomb, then Keya and the others spent the next few minutes listening to a strange, one-sided conversation punctuated by the use of Laeral's name every few words.
After establishing that she was still well outside of the Sharaedim, struggling through the Forest of Wyrms, the two Chosen spent a few minutes filling each other in on events inside and outside of the Sharaedim. Once they each had a basic idea of what the other had been doing for the four months or so, they began to test the extent to which the deadwall had been weakened, trying various forms of communication magic. When all of their spells proved unable to penetrate the barrier, Khelben decided to try another tack and used a spell to send his dagger to Laeral's hand. The weapon vanished when he uttered the incantation.
"Laeral, it's on its way." Khelben was silent for a moment, then frowned. "It didn't-er, Laeral, it didn't?"
A loud thunk reverberated through the ceiling, then an astonished Watcher cried out, "Hey, who's dropping daggers?"
Khelben closed his eyes for a moment, then said, "Laeral, no good. We'll talk later."
Khelben continued to stare at the ceiling, then turned to Lord Duirsar. "How much were you able to glean from my end of the conversation?"
"It would be better for you to retell all," Lord Duirsar said. "I take it Lady Laeral has found a way to weaken the deadwall?" "Not Laeral," Khelben said. "The Netherese." "The Netherese?" Lord Duirsar gasped.
"Shade Enclave, to be more precise," Khelben said. "They are the ones who created the shadow mantle-to cut the phaerimm off from the Weave and weaken them for a final assault."