The speaker was Telamont Tanthul, Most High of Shade and father of the Thirteen Princes. But even had the shadow lord not spoken, Galaeron would have sensed his presence in the chill stillness of the air-and in the cold fear that held the cavern in its grasp. Even Malygris, who as the Blue Sovereign of Anauroch need not bow to any other, lowered his skull in respect.
Without being audibly prompted, the dracolich spoke again. "Matters went as I knew they would, of course. The two-legs cowered in my shadow, and the ones we sought fled into the forest" The dracolich pricked Galaeron with the tip of his talon and added, "Though these mammals thought to hide their giant with their pitiful wizardry, they were fools. Their magic is nothing to mine, and the mere attempt revealed to us who we were seeking."
Galaeron's stomach suddenly went cold and queasy, and it had less to do with the Chosen being carried inside it than with simple fear. If Telamont's willpower could master even that of a dracolich, what chance did Galaeron have of hiding his betrayal? When the Most High's attention turned to him, the truth would become a breath held too long, and the harder he tried to keep it inside, the more desperate he'd grow to release it His only chance was to confess all and claim the plan had been Storm's idea, that the Chosen had forced him to-
No.
That was his shadow speaking. The idea had slipped up on him so smoothly, felt so natural that he had almost accepted it as his own. But if he betrayed the Chosen, he would also be betraying his loyal friend Aris, and that one thought served as a lifeline back to his true self.
The Most High remained silent, and more words spilled out of the dracolich's mouth.
"My worshipers have spies in every city of Faer?n," Malygris continued. "When they informed my priests that the giant was selling all of his stone whittling, I knew the ones you desired would soon leave the city."
"As did we," Telamont replied. His voice was cold and calm. "Yet you acted while my sons planned and fretted. Shade is in your debt."
"Indeed," said a silken voice Galaeron recognized as that of Yder Tanthul, the Sixth Prince of Shade, "but one wonders at how easily this 'secret' was discovered. Our agents were watching as they left Arabel. Starting a beggar's riot does not seem a very secretive way to leave a city."
"You challenge me, shade?"
There was an alarming crackle in Malygris's voice, and Galaeron was almost crushed as the dracolich shifted his weight forward.
"As a courtesy to your lord," the dracolich continued, "I will suffer your insult this once. But your stink offends me. Be gone."
"Be gone?" Yder fumed.
Galaeron wished he could reach the little pill Alustriel had given him. Even a dracolich did not speak to a prince of Shade in such a manner, and he thought the coming clash might provide just the diversion he needed to disgorge the Chosen and escape into the city.
But Yder said no more, and after a moment of staring across the floor through Malygris's talons, Galaeron realized that the prince had indeed gone.
"Yder means no offense, Mighty One," Telamont said in a tone that was soft, and almost hypnotically soothing. "He is only a few centuries old and not yet capable of appreciating the full depth of a dragon's cunning. He stands in awe of your magnificence."
"Then it pleases me to let him live," Malygris replied. "Consider it a gift."
"You honor me too much, my friend. Is there a gift you desire in return?"
The air grew as cold and as still as ice. The hem of Telamont’s dark robe-all Galaeron could see of the shadow lord-drifted forward.
"There is nothing," Malygris said. "The honor of your friendship is all I seek."
"That you have."
An expectant silence descended between the pair, then Malygris finally said, "But Techora is making demands on me."
"And Techora is?"
"The new one sent by the Cult of the Dragon," Malygris explained. "I mention this only because her petitions often interfere with our friendship."
This is the seventh in as many tendays," the shade replied. It was a statement of fact. "One might think you are simply trying to escape the bargain you struck with the Cult of the Dragon."
"It is hardly my fault that the priests they send are all rude and foolish," Malygris rumbled. His talons tightened until Galaeron let out an involuntary groan. "Should I tolerate ineptitude among my servants?"
"No more than I." Telamont's tone was almost resigned. "Yder will see to her. That shall be his atonement gift to you. What defenses does this one bear?"
"Only the usual protection amulets," Malygris said as he raised his claw, freeing Galaeron, "and the mammal is not even as powerful as the others. The cult is beginning to run out of priests."
"That would be good," Telamont said. "Not that I have ever been displeased with the splendor of your gifts, Malygris."
The dracolich spun around in a great clatter of bones, nearly crushing Galaeron with a carelessly placed rear foot and upending a dozen of Telamont's bodyguards with his long tail.
"How could you? They came from a dragon."
Malygris sprang into the air and departed the Marshaling Plaza over the heads of his two assistants. Telamont motioned for Prince Clariburnus to keep watch over Galaeron, then exchanged gifts with the other two dragons, promising to undermine the walls of an annoying castle for the one that had captured Aris and to reroute a caravan trail closer to the lair of the other.
As the agreements were made, Galaeron had a chance to see that while Aris had suffered no wounds worse than the talon punctures in his shoulders, the heat and thirst had taken its toll. The giant lay on the floor half conscious, with glassy eyes, a flushed face, and limbs as white as chalk. His hands were trembling and his breath was coming in fast, shallow pants.
"Aris needs water," Galaeron said. He was surprised to find his own throat swollen and raw from thirst. "We haven't had any since last night, and the desert-"
"He can wait," Clariburnus replied. "After the trouble you two caused us, I hope he chokes on his tongue."
"I am sure that would make the Most High very happy," mewled a familiar voice. "Especially after he has waited all this time for you to recapture them."
The dumpy form of Malik el Sami yn Nasser pushed between the waists of Clariburnus and Brennus and stepped into view. Dressed in a gray tunic with a tabard of black shadow over the top, he seemed an unwitting parody of the imposing forms of the two princes-especially with his weary, bloodshot eyes and his cuckold's horns proudly displayed atop his head.
Malik turned and called back between Clariburnus and Brennus, "Go and fetch a few barrels of water, and hurry. If the giant is harmed, I will see to it that the Most High has your heads."
To Galaeron's amazement, half the troop turned and scurried to obey. Any doubt that Malik had meant his message to lure Galaeron into a trap vanished at once.
"I see you've come up in the city," Galaeron said.
"No thanks to you."
The little man came forward, and brushing aside the black pike Clariburnus put out to keep him from getting too close, stood over Galaeron.
"How could you leave Vala to suffer so long? Your cruelty nearly got me killed!"
Putting aside for the moment how one might be connected to the other, Galaeron asked, "Then she's still alive? Your message said-"
Clariburnus used the pike to push Malik away. "It is not this lizard's place to discuss the slave of a prince."
Malik shrugged, spread his hands, and said, "He is right. Perhaps, if you please the Most High, he will intervene and let you see for yourself all the terrible things that Escanor has been visiting upon her at night."