They looked vaguely human, but with the grotesque features he had long ago learned to associate with shadow magic, and they were by far the largest, most powerful looking men he had ever seen. Most wore the dress of warriors, several the cloaks of wizards, and two were shrouded in clerical robes. They all had the brightly-colored eyes of creatures from the lower planes, and an aura of darkness seemed to swirl around them like fog.
The largest, a copper-eyed brute as tall as an ogre, stopped and turned to the others. "If he is here, he is hidden well. I see nothing in the shadows."
A figure in a horned helm spread his palms in resignation. "Then we must make him find us."
"How so, Rivalen?" asked the first. "He is not one to be so easily manipulated, and we have other problems to attend to."
"Let three of us go to Evereska, and three to Hidden Lake," said Rivalen. "That will leave six for Shadowdale. I am sure Elminster will find us then."
It had to be the loneliest camp in Faerun, a single tent in the heart of a barren salt pan, a young father staring across the horizon at the white winter sun, a haggard mother dripping water into her children's mouths one sip at a time, a bony camel so sick and weary it did not even groan. Earlier in the day, the camel had collapsed on the waterskin, and the children had pressed their faces to the salt and made themselves sick trying to lap up the last drops of water. The mother had walled and beat her husband's chest, and the husband had struck her and turned away to hide his tears. That much the princes had read in the twilight shadows, and they could guess what would come tomorrow. Even in winter, no one crossed the Shoal of Thirst without water.
The irony was not lost on the three princes. To the east, a mantle of shadowy clouds was already coalescing out of the empty twilight. They were bringing water-enough to mire the camel, enough to sweep away the tent and all it contained-but water would not save the family Quite the opposite. Even if these desert nomads knew how to swim, they could not swim for miles.
The princes rolled to their sides, peeling themselves out of the tent's shadow, then rose to their feet in a silent motion. There was a deep bristling as their bodies returned to shape, followed by the cold nausea that always accompanied a flight through the shadow deep.
It took only an instant for the feelings to pass, but by then the camel had raised its nose to test the air, and that was the only alarm the family required. The mother called her children and disappeared into the tent, and the husband leaped to his feet, his scimitar clearing its scabbard.
Brennus spread his palms to show they were empty. "By the Little Gods, friend, we mean no harm."
The nomad looked past the three princes across the darkening salt pan, then peered around the other side of the tent to make certain no accomplices lurked there. Only then, when he was sure they were alone, did he speak.
"What would you have of me, djinn? As you can see, I have nothing worth stealing-save my daughter, and I will slay her myself before I let you make her a slave."
"That won't be necessary." Brennus bent at his waist "We beg your forgiveness, but a small party cannot be too careful in a place such as this."
The nomad eyed the trio warily. "You do not have the look of those who need worry."
Brennus avoided the temptation to smile, knowing his ceremonial fangs would alarm the nomad. "It is often a mistake to judge men by their appearance. We are not djinn."
"I have no desire to argue the point," the nomad replied. "Name your business or be gone."
"You would do well to curb that tongue," said Brennus's brother Lamorak. With night almost upon them, Lamorak's swarthy face had assumed an almost spectral murkiness. "It makes no difference to us whether you live or die."
The knuckles on the nomad's sword hand whitened, and Brennus realized the threat angered the man more than frightened him.
"We are not here to hurt you, only to warn you," Brennus said. "Pack your things quickly This place will soon be a mire."
"The Shoal of Thirst? A mire?" The nomad looked at the first stars twinkling in the west. "1 do not think so. The heavens themselves do not hold that much water."
"The heavens hold more water than you know." Brennus pointed east, where a wall of purple clouds was already sweeping in from the dusky mountains. "Enough to fill the Shoal of Thirst and sweep away your tent. Enough to drown your camel and your children, too."
"There is no reason to believe it will all fall here," the nomad said stubbornly. "Only a djinn would claim to know otherwise." "Call us what you will," growled Lamorak. "We know."
"Surely you noticed the casting," said the third prince, Yder. "You could hardly have missed it."
"That was your doing?" The nomad's swarthy face grew sallow and yellow. "That ground-shaking thunder, and the black bolt that tore the sky?"
"We didn't know you were camped in Hidden Lake." As Brennus spoke, whirling clouds of salt-laden air began to skip through the camp, drawing an alarmed groan from the camel and gasps of surprise from inside the tent. "You must hurry. The rain will soon be falling in sheets."
"Sheets of rain?" The nomad looked east and saw the black wall of rain. "By the light of Elah!"
The wife pushed her head out of the tent, her face veiled by a purple scarf, her eyes rimmed in kohl. "Shall I pack, my husband?" "What good would it do?" the nomad gasped. "We cannot outrun the wind! Better to wait in the khreima while it passes."
"If you wait in your khreima, you will drown in your khreima," said Brennus.
The nomad narrowed his eyes. "Surely, those who can summon the rains can send them back?"
"Do you think such magic is easy to work?" demanded Lamorak. "A matter of a few syllables and a handful of powdered silver?" He turned to the woman, pointing a talonlike finger at her veiled face. "If you wish to live, pack your things."
The woman's eyes grew round, and she looked to her husband for instruction. He glared at Lamorak. "What would you have us do? Fly to the Sister of Rains?"
Brennus interposed himself between the man and his brother. "And if you could?" "Men do not have wings, berrani."
"They do not need them." Brennus took a strand of shadow silk from his pocket and shaped it into a small ring, then tossed it on the ground and spoke a single mystic word. The circle swelled to the size of small wagon, then darkened and floated off the ground. "There are other ways."
"Not for the Bedine." The nomad brought his scimitar down on the flying disk, slicing it down the center. "The Bedine do not abide the magic of devils!"
The two halves dropped to the ground and melted into the twilight darkness. Brennus watched the pieces disappear, then looked back to the nomad. "As you wish."
The winds arrived in a whistling flurry of salt and mist, and Brennus signaled his brothers. They backed away from the camp, fading into the darkness with silent acts of will.
"We Princes of Shade are hardly devils," Brennus said. "Not even close."
Elminster returned to find Shadowdale blanketed in war smoke. Exhausted as he was by his long fight against Wulgreth, the archmage circled the village, reconnoitering the battle before joining himself. The clang and crackle of hard-fought combat rose from a dozen places along a great circle scribed by Toad Knoll, Castle Krag, and Harper's Hill. Golden bolts of magic flashed back and forth along the length of Shadow Ridge, silver lightning limned the walls of Castle Krag, swarms of meteors flew over the Ashaba down by Mirrorman's Mill.
Much as he longed to swoop to the defense of each embattled townsman, Elminster bided his time. His battle against Wulgreth had left him exhausted physically and magically He had used half his spells before becoming trapped in the tree, and most of the rest-including his emergency evasion spell, the last of his teleports, and both worldwalking spells-escaping Wulgreth (again) in the wild magic area. He left the Dire Wood with only three magic-dispelling spells, a single set of golden bolts, three speed enchantments, and the ability to fly.