The owl sat on the rooftop of a tall lighthouse that commanded a view of the town. Through the owl’s eyes, Shang-Li saw himself lying on the building’s rooftop, the river to the left of the Serpent’s Tower, and the crooked edifice that earned the building its name.
At Shang-Li’s urging, Moonwhisper fell forward and caught the wind from the sea with his wings. He glided toward the tower.
The tower’s exterior was rough, irregular stone mortared into place. Shang-Li felt confident he could climb it if he had to. But that was a long way to go without being discovered by someone. He planned to cut down on that distance by a considerable amount. Wicked-looking gargoyles manned the roof and a widow’s walk a third of the way down the tower.
From the widow’s walk, an observer could watch the sea in the distance. Someone with good eyes, Shang-Li felt certain, could identify a specific ship in the harbor.
Or a wizard could keep watch over his tower. The thought hung like sour grapes in Shang-Li’s mind.
Moonwhisper glided by the structure, then came back around it in a tight, gentle circle to see all sides of the tower.
Satisfied with the reconnoitering, Shang-Li drew his senses back from the owl and became aware of his own body again. The cool wind from the sea rushed over him and carried the almost lyrical noise of the lines banging against the masts. Here and there, occasional voices sounded, but most of them belonged to drunken sailors stumbling through the streets.
The quiet time, only a few hours before dawn, softened the city. If Shang-Li hadn’t known the place was a pirate stronghold, it would have looked like any other city.
Shang-Li glanced over the side of the building. His father was gone. Hopefully he would secure their escape vessel before it was needed. The dark ribbon of the river that cut through the heart of the city’s more prosperous side ran beside the Serpent’s Tower.
Only a few lanterns remained lit along the shores cluttered with small boats and transport barges. Most of those lights were stationary, the lights of guard ships sent out by pirates and, possibly, in the pay of the Nine Golden Swords.
He waited only a few moments more, until a black cloud scudded across the sky and masked the quarter-moon. A pall of darkness fell over the city.
Shang-Li stood, uncoiled a line and a padded grappling hook from his pack, and whirled the device beside him a few times. Then he cast, whipping his body with practiced ease.
The padded grappling hook sailed across forty feet and landed on the widow’s walk with a barely audible thunk.
Shang-Li regretted that his father wasn’t there to witness his success. But then he would only have found something unsatisfactory about it.
The cloud continued across the quarter-moon and no one was around to notice the line that suddenly spanned the distance. Knowing time was short, Shang-Li tied the line to the rooftop. The rope was made of spidersilk, weightless as a feather and strong as dwarf-forged steel.
When he’d finished, the line was taut. Slipping off his soft-soled shoes, he ran barefoot across the thin spidersilk. The line twisted and swayed a little as he passed, but he had no problems making the adjustments to keep his balance. The alley floor was forty feet below. Rats and other things rooted through the garbage and never noticed him pass.
A grin touched his lips and dimmed some of the unease that filled him. If the wild things didn’t sense a predator among them, he was almost invisible.
But not against magic.
During his travels and adventures, that was one lesson he had learned the hard way. He paused at the other end of the line. The grappling hook hadn’t appeared to set anything off, but a protective spell might be laid to sense flesh and blood.
Moonlight slipped toward him and slid along the spidersilk line.
Once you’re focused on your goal, once you’re committed, inaction is your enemy. His father’s words came to mind. Shang-Li had drilled hard under the tutelage he’d received. He sipped a quick breath, then used the spidersilk’s slight elasticity to aid his leap toward the widow’s walk when it pulled back to its original length. He flipped forward, twisted, and landed almost silently on the jutting stone parapet.
For a moment he held still. His ears strained as he listened for sounds from within the tower. His body quivered like a tuning fork, waiting to feel any vibrations headed toward him. Nothing.
Then, an instant before the moonlight touched him, Shang-Li strode forward, shook his sleeves to free the sticks, and shoved one into the open window in front of him.
Shang-Li slipped a necklace from beneath his shirt and held it out before him. A sliver of dark blue crystal hung at the end of the silver chain.
“Mielikki,” he whispered, “watch over me, because I’m going in dark places tonight.”
The crystal spun quickly. The faceted sides glimmered blue from an internal light, but didn’t flare up in warning. Some magical residue was to be expected given the surroundings.
Steeped in the shadows inside the room, Shang-Li breathed deeply and made himself remain calm. The scents of the room told him of the books, inks, parchments, wooden shelving, and furniture before his sensitive half-elf eyes adapted to the dimness.
A sweeping glance of the round room revealed the bookcases that reached at least fifteen feet from floor to ceiling. Books, all manner of books in many kinds of bindings, filled the shelves.
“Forest Mother,” Shang-Li whispered before he could stop himself as he surveyed the books. Then he waited to see if his inadvertent expression of surprise would set off a spell triggered by voice.
When nothing happened, he let out a pent-up breath and gave silent thanks to Mielikki. Once again, the Forest Mother was looking out for him.
Memory of his father’s voice jangled Shang-Li’s thoughts. She only looks out for those that look out for themselves. Have a care here, you great-footed oaf. Don’t get foolish.
Despite the fear that had tightened his belly, Shang-Li gave into the awe and curiosity that filled him. Outside of Candlekeep and the Standing Tree Monastery, the wizard’s collection of books was the largest he’d ever seen.
He took a deep breath and broke the fascination that had fallen over him. For a moment he worried that the effect was part of an enchantment that had been laid upon the books.
However, he quickly dismissed that idea. As his father had told him, Ravel Kouldar wouldn’t trifle with any magical spell that wouldn’t kill someone outright. The knowledge hadn’t been reassuring, but it hadn’t been meant that way either.
Across the room, a large mahogany desk gleamed from the outside incandescence. The top had been cut from a single piece of wood that showed the rings under a heavy varnish. An inkwell, a clutch of quills, and candelabra sat on the desk. An array of globes sat in front of the desk. Besides the doors to the balcony, another set of doors lay to his right. Those led to the stairwell and the lower floor.
Shang-Li knew better than to try the doors. Those would definitely be protected. Every door in the tower would be sealed. He’d been surprised the windows hadn’t been. His attention shifted to the three globes in front of the desk. Shang-Li focused. Don’t get distracted, he told himself. Your father is out there now counting down the time you’re inside.
But Shang-Li couldn’t forego his curiosity. It wasn’t every day that he invaded a wizard’s sanctum.
Carefully, Shang-Li stepped forward and examined the globes. He recognized the first one as the world of Toril as it had been before the Spellplague brought lost Abeir back from where the twin world had been hidden.
While growing up, Shang-Li had read many books concerning the twin worlds and the wars the gods had fought to control them. Mystra’s death a hundred years ago had broken the barrier between the worlds. A new continent had appeared in the Trackless Sea, and disasters had swept across Toril as the planet had become whole and less at the same time.