"Interested."
"Good."
Takari took him by the wrist and started for the contemplation, but they were quickly intercepted by a disapproving Keya Nihmedu.
"Kuhl," she said, "you do realize she's using you?"
A grin the size of the crescent moon spread across Kuhl's face and he said, "I sure hope so."
He picked Takari up and slipped past Keya at a near charge, and a moment later Takari found herself wrestling the bear. The experience was not as unpleasant as she had feared, in large part because it was over so quickly.
The second time lasted a little longer. She was surprised to find that she was no longer disgusted at all, save for near the end when he really did start growling like a bear.
The third time, she actually started to enjoy it, and that was when Lord Duirsar's messenger flew in through the open window. Oblivious to what was happening, the snowfinch began to flit around their heads, chirping and tweeting as though the world were coming to an end.
"Manynests," Takari gasped. "Not… now!"
The bird landed on her shoulder and shrieked into her ear. The mood vanished instantly, and Takari extended a finger.
"Bird, this had better be good."
Manynests broke into a long series of whistles.
"What?" Takari asked. "When?"
She freed herself of Kuhl's embrace and swung her feet onto the floor. The snowfinch peeped in reply, then chirped a query.
"Of course!" Takari said, rising. 'Tell him we'll meet them at the Livery Gate."
Kuhl propped himself on an elbow and asked, "Meet who?"
She snatched Kuhl's weapon belt off the floor and tossed it to him without touching the darksword's hilt She didn't want Kuhl to know why she had bedded him, not until she knew the seed had been planted.
"The phaerimm," Takari replied. "They've breached the mythal."
Somewhere in the Palace Most High, Galaeron hung swaddled in velvet murk, immobile, able to breathe and scream but no more. Shadovar voices hissed in the distant gloom. Shadow seeped into his pores, permeating him with every breath, doubt and suspicion and anger steadily darkening his heart How long he had been there was impossible to say. No one ever came to feed him or give him water or attend to his broken hand, or even to ask if he was ready to cooperate, but he never seemed to grow hungry or thirsty, or have need to answer nature's call. He hung there suspended in the moment, a throbbing pain-filled moment without beginning or end, without limit of any kind.
It seemed to Galaeron that the mythallar should have been destroyed long before, that the Chosen should have found it and sundered it, and brought Shade crashing down into the desert. Maybe they had. Trapped as he seemed in a single moment, how would he know? Or maybe he had been there only an instant after all. Maybe all his thoughts since Telamont hung him there had rushed through his mind in a single instant, and Khelben and the others were still awaiting their chance to escape into the city.
Or perhaps the Chosen had abandoned him, wherever here was, content to believe the shadow inside him would never escape to darken Faer?n. That would be just like them, to sacrifice an individual for the sake of the many-as long as that individual was not one of their number. Galaeron thought back to his capture and recalled how quick they had been to abandon the caravan, how cleverly they had arranged things so that none of them had been called upon to make the ultimate sacrifice. The cowards would not hesitate to leave him there alone to suffer for all eternity.
And that was exactly what Galaeron-the real Galaeron- would want, he reminded himself.
His shadow had all but taken him. Every thought contained a hidden doubt, every emotion was colored by suspicion. It would not be long before he yielded. He had only to grab a handful of shadowstuff and use its dark magic to cast a spell, and he would be free to seek his vengeance on all who had wronged him. Telamont had said as much when he'd imprisoned him, had promised that that was how Galaeron's struggle would end, that all Galaeron controlled was when it ended.
Galaeron believed him. If the timing was all he could control, then control it he would.
The hissing of the distant voices faded to silence, and the air grew heavy and chill. Galaeron's heart climbed into his throat, and he began to search the darkness ahead for the burning disks of Telamont's platinum eyes.
The air only grew colder and more still.
"You are stronger than I thought, elf," the Most High's wispy voice hissed into Galaeron's ear. "You are beginning to anger me."
Galaeron smiled. He tried to turn toward the voice, but his whole body seemed to pivot with him, and Telamont remained just beyond his peripheral vision.
Galaeron had to settle for speaking into the shadow.
"At least there's that," he said.
"Oh, there is more," Telamont said. "Much more. My son Escanor is dead."
Galaeron started to say something spiteful then realized that to express such malice to a grieving father-even this grieving father-would be to invite his shadow in.
"I'm sorry to hear that."
A deep chuckle sounded beside Galaeron's ear.
"Lies are of the shadow, too, elf."
"It was compassion-not a lie."
Galaeron's thoughts were racing. Had the city fallen and Telamont come to take vengeance? Did he see a way to use his son's death to force Galaeron completely into shadow? Or was he simply there to take out his anger on Galaeron?
"Whatever I may have thought of Escanor," the elf said, "whatever I would have liked to do to him myself-I'm sure you loved him."
Telamont was quiet for a moment, not using his will to press for an answer as usual when he fell silent, but genuinely seeming to contemplate Galaeron's words.
"Perhaps I did, at that," the Most High said. "What a pity Vala was not so charitable as you."
A cold knot formed in Galaeron's stomach. Telamont's cold presence pressed closer to him.
"She escaped her cell," the Shadovar said. "She killed him in his sick bed."
The knot in Galaeron's stomach grew as heavy as lead.
"Did his guards…?" He could barely bring himself to voice the question, "Is she dead?"
"That would make you angry, would it not?"
A cloaked form coalesced in the murk before Galaeron. With the Most High already whispering into his ear, it took Galaeron a moment to realize that the figure in front of him also belonged to Telamont.
"I could tell you she is, and you would fly into a rage." Telamont's eyes grew bright and angry, but his voice continued to whisper into Galaeron's ear, "And with rage would come your shadow. It would claim you for all time."
"Then she's not dead." Nor had the mythallar been destroyed, Galaeron realized. Had Shade fallen, Telamont would be more interested in killing him than claiming him. "You don't know where she is."
"And with hope comes strength," hissed the disembodied voice. "The strength to defy me. What am I to do?"
He fell silent, and the air grew heavy with expectation.
Fearing that one answer would lead to another and another until he betrayed their plan, Galaeron tried not to answer. Telamont remained silent, and his will pressed down on Galaeron all the more fiercely. Eventually, he could resist no more, and the words tumbled out of their own accord.
Tell me the truth."
The purple crescent of a smile appeared in the hood beneath Telamont’s s eyes.
"The truth? What is 'truth,' really?" Telamont's voice whispered into Galaeron's other ear. "The truth is that she will be."
The lump in Galaeron's stomach began to grow lighter. Vala was still alive.
"If you catch her."
"When we catch her," Telamont corrected. "Where can she go? It's a thousand feet to the ground."
He paused, and Galaeron feared for a moment that Telamont meant to force an answer that would betray the attack on the mythallar, but Telamont had something else in mind.