She prayed for hours, beseeching her goddess to hear her pleas and impart upon her wisdom. She prayed in every language she knew – even those she was not well versed in, to prove to her goddess that she was willing to humiliate herself if only she might listen. She prayed until she was so sleep deprived that her own words seemed to take on a dreamlike quality, and on occasion she lost the ability to distinguish between slumber and wakefulness. And in these states of incoherency, she communed again with the great Spider Queen.
I should ruin you, Lolth taunted her remorselessly. This task is of the utmost importance and already you have failed me. I should descend upon you in my glorious spider form and utterly devour you.
Fortunately, Quartana Baenre knew the proper response. I would be awed to gaze upon your beauty in whichever form you chose to manifest, Lady Lolth, and I would humbly accept whatever fate you have prepared for me. My only desire is to serve you.
And if I thought otherwise I would already have consumed your pitiful body, but as it is I have use for you still and your loyalty cannot be questioned. Three images drifted into Quartana's mind then, one of a doppelganger-turned-shade with haunting eyes of silver, one of a Netherese prince in the guise of an assassin, and one of a dark-haired snow elf with eyes the color of precious violets. I tried to warn you that these three would prove a great obstacle for you, and you chose not to heed me. I will tell you now that while they live, you will find reaching Lim Tal'eyve impossible. Find a way to dispatch them, or you will surely fail… and you should know by now that I do not suffer failures to live.
How might I eliminate them? Quartana asked, her words slurred with exhaustion, her consciousness waning as she sought her goddess's approval.
You already know, for I have already shown you. If you ask me again I will eliminate you. Should you remember how best you might utilize your underlings to complete my bidding, I shall provide you with the means to journey into the shadow city of the Tanthul family. If you do not, rest assured there is no hole you might crawl into that will hide you from me for long!
There may have been more to the conversation – further threats, perhaps, or more ridicule – but Quartana's consciousness wavered and she became incoherent for a time. Fortunately during her catatonic Reverie she recalled those three faces in her previous divinations with her goddess – whether she remembered them now of her own accord or the Spider Queen's mercy she couldn't say. But she did see their demises keenly in her mind's eye – the crushing of the doppelganger's feeble mind in the sadistic hands of the psionist Oblodra, the Netherese prince's murder at the hands of the master of alteration, and the sorceress's demise in a futile wizard's duel against the Xorlarrin conjurer.
Perhaps she had been deterred at the outset, but she felt confident that her next attempts at pleasing the Spider Queen would have significantly more favorable results.
It was daybreak when Phendrana at last set foot in his private quarters, and despite the fact that he hadn't rested in nearly a full day sleep was the furthest thing from his mind. He managed one step in the direction of his magnificent four-poster, stumbled, and caught himself unceremoniously by bracing one hand heavily against the bedframe; the memory of Brennus's cold, inhospitable, almost hateful expression was seared into his mind's eye with shocking clarity, and he didn't think anything he did now would dispel it. He choked back a sob and clung to the wooden frame with such force that his fingernails left deep gouges in the smooth surface, his mind a whirlwind of adrenaline and half-formed accusations and fragmented recollections of that disastrous council session. How had they come to this? Phendrana had loved Brennus with all his heart, had been willing to forsake everything for the opportunity to serve him; how had they gone from such trust and compassion to such rage, such inexplicable, all-consuming hatred? For he could feel it now, pumping through his system like the most potent poison: hatred, coursing black like oil through every crevice of his body, filling him with anger, compelling him to act upon his most evil, impulsive urges –
He clenched his eyes shut in an effort to regain his senses, and was abruptly struck with the most vivid series of images he had ever glimpsed in his waking hours.
He was standing alone upon a wide, sweeping balcony, dropped into a defensible crouch and circling a predatory-looking drow with eyes white as newly fallen snow; he knew from the vacant expressions on both his and his opponent's faces that they were warring within their minds, for it was a concept he was intimately familiar with. As he watched with horror he collapsed before the drow with the chilling eyes, clutching his own head and wailing in agony as in the next moment his brain was seized in the telekinetic clutches of his adversary and hopelessly crushed.
Phendrana swayed, gasping for breath, and might have fallen were it not for the hand that gripped him at the elbow with the force of a vice, and then he heard voices from seemingly worlds away.
"Can you hear me?! What's happening?! Phendrana?!"
"Be quiet. Let him see what he is meant to see. Doubtless that which he glimpses will be our salvation."
He watched as Aglarel led the Most High to the world window, surprised at the interaction between them; they smiled at one another and talked as friends might talk, with an easy camaraderie that Phendrana had never witnessed upon the often-taciturn Fourth Prince's face. They stood for a moment at the edge of the deep basin, glimpsing events that Phendrana was not privy to, before the High Prince drew a blade from behind his back and ran his son through. As Aglarel was dying on the end of the blade the likeness of the High Prince faded into the true form of a drow with a scar over one eye, a wicked, pitiless grin upon his face.
It was too monstrous; he wanted nothing more than to wrench himself back into the present, to open his eyes and glimpse reality, but he knew that if he did so someone's life would be at stake and he would not risk that for anything.
"Phendrana, are you alright?!"
"Please, control yourself. Have you forgotten that his visions saved the High Prince's life? If you cannot stand idly by I will remove you."
The doppelganger wanted to open his mouth and tell them what he was seeing, or at least to reassure them that he was alright, but yet another dreamlike vision swam before his closed eyelids and he found he could focus on nothing now but that. It was a more public setting with well-clad, masked Shadovar all around, some scurrying away in fear and others rooted to the spot in morbid fascination; in the center of their hastily-formed circle stood Aveil with a great staff clenched in her hands, facing off against a female drow. It was clear in Aveil's face that she was suffering great pain and her arcane abilities were nearly exhausted; seeing her adversary readying a spell she casted defensively, only for the spell to fail. With a howl of victory the drow priestess conjured a pack of hell hounds, and the unholy creatures fell upon the sorceress at once and tore her to shreds.
Suddenly he had wrenched his eyes open, dragging ragged gulps of oxygen into his lungs, chilled to the bone beneath the cold sweat that had settled upon his skin; Lamorak released his elbow immediately and hastened to put several paces between them, though his eyes remained narrowed with genuine concern. Phendrana cut his eyes to the balcony, for he had drawn the curtains against the prying eyes of the outside world weeks ago and didn't remember throwing them wide, to find Aglarel standing at the railing with his arms crossed over his chest and his back to them as he surveyed the Circle diligently. Phendrana swiped one slightly-trembling hand surreptitiously across his brow to keep the sweat from impairing his vision and straightened, for if there was one thing he knew well it was that one needed to keep one's composure around Fourth Prince Aglarel at all times.
His eyes narrowed as he glanced Lamorak's way. "Why are you here?"
"You meant to speak with me," the Third Prince reminded flatly, as though the answer should be obvious. "In the council chamber I felt your mind seeking me out, only to withdraw. You were right to do so – it is unwise to engage in such conversation if you would prefer your words not to come to the High Prince's notice. Anything you might have said he would have been privy to."
Phendrana's mind was full to bursting with recently-gleaned knowledge and the events of the past several hours and the too-vivid images he had just glimpsed as if in a dream, and couldn't remember for the life of him what he had meant to say. He was saved having to stumble through an apology when Aglarel turned back to face them, his eyes peering out from beneath the edge of his cowl, his expression unreadable. "What did you see?"
"Aglarel," Lamorak chastised immediately, "give him a moment. Clearly he is out of sorts."
"Depending upon what he saw," Aglarel answered ominously, "we may not have a moment." He paused just inside of Phendrana's comfort zone, standing one step closer than Phendrana might have cared for him to stand, and repeated himself. "What did you see?"
The images swirled incoherently, blending together in a whirl of too-vibrant colors, and Phendrana shook his head vigorously as though with one motion he might dispel the images from his minds' eye altogether. "I saw myself dying… And you…" He broke off abruptly, fear gripping him in its merciless clutches, and barked, "Where is Aveil?"
"Why?" Did Aglarel's eyes narrow a fraction? What was that nameless emotion hovering, expertly contained, just beneath the surface?
"I saw her too," Phendrana admitted breathlessly, his voice a desperate plea, and after surveying the doppelganger appraisingly for a moment Aglarel nodded once, lifted his hand, and pressed the pad of his index finger gently against the black amethyst pierced through his right ear. There was a beat of uncomfortable silence, during which Lamorak uttered an impatient and disapproving sigh and settled into one of the chairs standing around the dining table near the door and Phendrana wished fervently for even a moment's peace, and then a shadow formed upon the balcony and solidified into the figure of the Sceptrana of Thultanthar.
"It's good that you summoned me," she began, sweeping a few strands of her lustrous black hair behind one ear and striding forward into Phendrana's bedchamber to join them; perhaps it was Phendrana's imagination, but he thought Aveil seemed a shade paler than usual and even a bit shaken. "I fear the task you've set me is beyond my abilities to handle alone. I may need your help."
"I thought as much," Aglarel agreed, "but that is not why I have called you here." He glanced sidelong at Phendrana, at once skeptical but resigned, and added, "Tell us what you saw."
The doppelganger looked to Lamorak for clarity, for he had only ever divulged the contents of his visions to the Determinist Prime and no one else; Lamorak nodded once encouragingly, and so Phendrana launched into a retelling of what he had most recently glimpsed. He knew that he was speaking too fast and that he was often tripping over his own words in places, but they never corrected him or asked any questions – they all seemed to sense that even now the images were beginning to fade from his memory, and that he was desperate to share all he knew with them before the details were forever lost. By the time he had finished Aveil and Aglarel had both taken seats at the dining table, and the doppelganger thought it might not be a bad idea to have Lux bring up an early breakfast. While they awaited the meal they took to dissecting Phendrana's visions with a commendable attention to even the smallest, most insignificant detail.
"Firstly," Aglarel began, "how closely did your first dream of the High Prince's assassination match up with the events that transpired a few hours ago?"
Phendrana wasn't looking at any of them; he had his head in his hands as he stared at the table, struggling to compare the details. It occurred to him after a time that he was having difficulty distinguishing between the dream and the reality because they mirrored one another exactly, but for one major difference. "Apart from the fact that I was able to thwart the assassin before he could complete his work, they were identical. I can think of no other discrepancies."
"You are certain?" Aglarel pressed, his tone of voice allowing for no leniency, but Phendrana stood his ground.
"The dream you speak of plagued me every night for longer than a lunar cycle," the doppelganger divulged. "I am certain."
"Then we must trust that what you have seen now will come to pass at some point," Aveil deduced, "though we have no way of knowing precisely when."
Lamorak shifted forward in his seat, prompting Phendrana to lift his head; the Determinist Prime had retrieved a few blank sheets of parchment, an inkwell, and a quill from the study desk in the corner and was even now dipping the tip of the quill into the inkwell, fixing Phendrana with that polite, expectant expression the doppelganger felt well acquainted with after their weeks of lessons. It was enough to steal some of the mounting tension from his muscles, and he felt a wash of gratitude flood his insides. "Let's start with the first image," Lamorak began clinically, setting the tip of the quill to the parchment. "You said you were on a balcony? Was it your own?"
Phendrana shook his head almost instantly. "No, it was much larger than any balcony I have seen at any villa I have ever visited." Still the image did nag at him, for he was certain that he had set foot upon that enormous balcony at some point in the past, and abruptly he remembered. "The observation platform at the palace – of course. Surely that is what I saw."
Aglarel opened his mouth to begin another interrogation, perhaps, but was cut short when Lamorak lifted one finger to silence him; the quill was scratching away at the surface of the parchment, and Phendrana found himself oddly soothed by the sound. "You have been there before?" Lamorak prodded.
"Yes, once – when the phaerimm were loose in the enclave, Brennus and I were able to escape Villa Tareia by taking to the air on the back of Xanther's dragonnel Amphinix. It was far too dangerous to land anywhere else, so we admitted ourselves into the palace via the observation deck." He steadfastly ignored the pang of loss and fury that resonated from somewhere deep within his chest when he said the loremaster's name aloud, and didn't allow the hurt to show through in his voice. "I'm sure I recognize it."
"And the drow facing you," Lamorak prodded gently. "Was it the same drow who attempted to murder the High Prince?"
Phendrana found himself shaking his head right away, for no better reason than they felt as two completely different people. He had been unerringly focused on protecting the High Prince and had steadfastly kept his mind rooted to the task at hand, but in the scant moments his mental influence had strayed beyond the confines of his mind he had felt a deep sense of mystery shrouding his adversary, a curious detachment – killing the High Prince had been his charge task but something about the way he moved suggested it was a means to an end, and not his true purpose there. But the drow he had glimpsed just now, all three, had been different individuals entirely – the High Prince's would-be killer had been in possession of that awful starmetal blade, and his eyes had been of a curious magenta hue. The drow he was destined to face next had eyes so white Phendrana could hardly guess where the white ended and the iris began; the one who had fooled Aglarel by adopting the clever guise of the High Prince had only one eye, and Aveil's killer had been female. Absently he trailed the fingers of his left hand over the moon ivy still clinging resolutely to the tear in his armor, mesmerized by the way it flexed and shifted beneath his fingertips, and said, "No. They are all four different. Their faces are not known to me."
"What is that?" Aglarel broke in, pointing to the moon ivy patch upon Phendrana's chest as Lamorak scribbled diligently upon his sheaf of parchment.
"I sustained a wound from the assassin's blade," Phendrana explained, shuddering at the memory of the fatigue and that burning, searing pain the cursed metal had inflicted. "The High Prince said it was wrought of starmetal." Aglarel and Lamorak exchanged a look of genuine concern at that, prompting Phendrana to add, "You know of it?"
"Of course we know of it," the Fourth Prince growled, hitching his shoulders once in what may have been a twitch of irritation. "A rare metal that only the most talented of smiths can forge under very specific conditions. If it is refined just right it can put an end to any extraplanar creature it touches – including the shades, for our bodies were molded by the very essence of the Shadow Realm and thus we are a part of it, and bereft of this Material Plane. If the assassin bore such a weapon, this attack can hardly be called an isolated incident."
"It was premeditated," Aveil concluded quietly. "The decision to infiltrate the enclave was planned. The assassin knew what he would be up against."
"Likely those who follow him will be similarly well-informed," said Aglarel icily, hardly pleased by the prospect, and while Lamorak was jotting down all of their musings the door opened a tentative crack and Lux peeked around at them. Phendrana waved him in with a kind half-smile, and the Shadovar boy led the kitchen staff in with the breakfast spread. The moment the housekeepers made themselves scarce Aglarel continued, "How could they not be? They possess weapons designed to destroy us utterly. They employ emissaries specially suited to dispatching a very specific target. They are even clever enough to embody our sovereign – your visions indicated as much."
"We must keep an even closer watch over the High Prince in the days to come, now that we know what to expect," Aveil suggested, and she sighed. "Our responsibilities grow weighty."
"We knew this would not be easy," Aglarel reminded her almost kindly, and Phendrana found himself raising an eyebrow at that.
"What – "
"Later," Lamorak interrupted them, his voice a firm reprimand, and when he had Phendrana's attention he continued with his line of questioning. "You said in the next vision you saw Aglarel in the High Prince's audience chamber. Was there anyone else present?"
"No. They were alone." Just the thought made Phendrana uneasy – it was a dark day indeed when they could not trust their own monarch.
"And could you see what they glimpsed in the world window?" Lamorak was all business, in his element now.
"Not even a fraction," Phendrana lamented, but a ray of hope was quick to return to him in the next instant as he recalled, "but my previous dream progressed as time went on. Perhaps these visions will play themselves out in a similar manner, and more of the puzzle will become known to me."
Aveil was peeling a clementine with her fingernails, but her gaze was distant. "I fear we do not have the time you will need to gather the information we require – these events will transpire soon. You mentioned a formal setting in the last vision you glimpsed, during which I battled with a drow priestess… What was the attire of those in attendance? Were any of those lingering in the near vicinity wearing masks?"
Phendrana closed his eyes, chewing a grape slowly, focusing with all his might on the vague image that he could recall; he was uncertain on a great many details, that much was true, but the crowd had stood out for that seemingly out-of-place detail and he knew he hadn't imagined it. He opened his eyes to regard her from across the table, a leaden weight settling in the pit of his stomach. "They were wearing masks – every one."
Despite his ominous declaration Aveil hardly seemed phased, popping a wedge of fruit into her mouth and saying, "Then by the High Prince's own words we have no more than three days to solve this riddle – perhaps less, if the other things Phendrana has seen come to pass before my battle with the conjurer."
"A small window when you take into account our other affairs," Aglarel mused, hardly pleased with the prospect, and Phendrana's burning curiosity got the better of him before he could temper it with good judgment.
"What affairs?"
"That doesn't concern you," Aveil retorted, immediately on the defensive, but surprisingly Aglarel silenced her with a steely look and turned at once toward the doppelganger.
"You have been in isolation here, so you know very little – even Lamorak, who has no reason not to know the entire truth, is not so well informed regarding the circumstances behind the elevation of Lim Tal'eyve as he thinks he is." Aglarel considered Phendrana over the rim of his glass, and it struck Phendrana then just how similar their eyes were; silver like moonlight, but in the doppelganger's case they were radiant and in the prince's face they were cold and somehow omniscient. "The public story is that this newest face upon the Shadow Council is an illegitimate relation to the High Prince in some way – a bastard son, perhaps, or a nephew whose parentage is noble enough and whose Determining was successful enough that he earned himself a place of great prominence… The populace trusts in the judgment of the High Prince, and so this story has been easy to sow throughout the Lower District. The private story that the Most High has shared with the Princes of Shade is that Lim Tal'eyve came to him in good faith with a business offer that our sovereign accepted for the obvious benefits such a bargain was sure to produce, but the details of just what that bargain entails have been omitted – so as not to cause further discord within our already-unstable ruling body, I am sure. But Aveil and I are possessed of the truth of their arrangement, the nature of which is more appalling and the repercussions of which are more far-reaching than anyone might have imagined. Lim Tal'eyve's role as the Anointed Blade of the Jaezred Chaulssin was never fulfilled during the Time of Troubles, and for years he has been bound to the Spider Queen in the guise of a reformed worshipper when in fact he is still pursuing his original mandate. He has been biding his time, awaiting the precise opportunity when he might put an end to Lolth once and for all, and he has convinced himself that the most surefire way to secure success in this campaign was to forge an alliance with the High Prince. In return for the essence of shadow and the support of Thultanthar should his actions lead to conflict with opposing city-states, Lim Tal'eyve has promised to use the power he has gained over the years to supplant the Spider Queen from the Faerunian pantheon and offer her as a gift to our goddess, Shar."
Lamorak was looking appropriately appalled, but Phendrana was far less surprised by this news. He had been in isolation since his ill-fated return from Castle Tethyr so of course he hadn't heard the half-truths and outright lies the High Prince had fashioned concerning Lim Tal'eyve's sudden rise to prominence within their society, but he was already privy to the truth – he had heard it in Aveil's own retelling nearly two fortnights past, when she had divulged as much to Aglarel. Looking back on it he remembered trying to warn several whom he trusted of the events secretly transpiring within the Most High's court – Escanor, Clariburnus, Soleil, and Brennus among them – but they hadn't heeded him and his account had been dismissed after very little deliberation. Hearing that he had been right to suspect the truth behind these words all along was somewhat of a relief – his intuition had told him then that this was an issue not to be taken lightly, and his intuition was seldom wrong.
Predictably, Lamorak recovered quickly and struck up a series of inquiries. "Lim Tal'eyve offered this ludicrous proposal to the High Prince and our sovereign accepted it?!"
"For good or ill," Aglarel told him. "We have yet to determine which."
"But surely the Most High can see that this will only end in folly!" Lamorak exclaimed, glancing Phendrana's way with wild eyes, but the doppelganger had no reassurance to offer him. "The drow cannot possibly succeed in this! Does he not understand that he is contending with deities?!"
"From the way that he talks, he is fully aware of it," Aveil admitted darkly. "Anticipating the opportunity, even."
Lamorak was beside himself; Phendrana wished he had the means to calm him, but was at a loss for what to do or say. "How can the High Prince believe this course of action has any chance of being a fruitful one?! The gift of the shadow does not give a creature the power to topple the gods!"
A resounding silence followed this proclamation, during which Aglarel and Aveil exchanged a contemplative look, and abruptly Phendrana remembered how to speak. "You believe this is somehow possible," he surmised breathlessly, glancing back and forth between them, unable to believe it himself.
Aglarel visibly hesitated – the first time Phendrana had ever witnessed even a fraction of uncertainty coming from the always-collected master assassin – before saying vaguely, "The High Prince is a very old, very wise, very powerful being. None now living are nearer to the divine than he is. It may be that the shadow is a stronger force than we know, and that through harnessing its true potential the shades can reach divinity themselves."
"This is madness," Lamorak inserted hoarsely. "Utter madness. You are suggesting that men like you and me possess the strength to rival the divine!"
"And I suppose we will find out soon enough whether or not it is true," Aglarel finished. "The High Prince has entered into this accord with the drow and neither you nor I have the power to overturn his will now – we can only watch, and wait. The High Prince is already convinced that Lim will fail in these endeavors, and so has placed little stock in what is to come."
For Phendrana, this was confusing. "But why would the High Prince enter into an accord when he knows it will fail? He has nothing to gain."
"That was my understanding as well," Aglarel confessed, and Phendrana wondered at the introspective quality in his voice – he had never known the Fourth Prince to be so forthcoming with his knowledge. "But by the High Prince's logic, he stands only to gain here. The odds are stacked hopelessly against Lim Tal'eyve, but imagine the reward to us all in the slim chance that he does succeed. If the High Prince is the one to hand over the Spider Queen to Shar… Our sovereign, and all of us, would be eternally rewarded. There is none the Dark Mother hates more than Lolth. Such is the Most High's reasoning for offering the drow his support."
"And if the drow fails," Lamorak concluded, finally catching on, "the High Prince will punish him – strip him of his shadow orb and reduce him to nothing. The failure will be of no real loss to us."
Phendrana lifted his chin a fraction and stared Fourth Prince Aglarel boldly in the eye, to find the assassin was already watching him as though anticipating his next inquiry. It was both reassuring to know that he wouldn't have to explain himself for a change and eerie that the prince was already awaiting his questions – how did he manage to stay one step ahead of every situation? The prince's unerringly focused, slightly challenging stare incited in Phendrana the urge to squirm where he sat, or to look away, but he battled back both instincts and spoke bravely – to do otherwise would be to invite ridicule, and he imagined that to entertain the Fourth Prince's respect and trust would be an invaluable, irreplaceable thing. "You are not telling us these things out of the goodness and generosity of your heart," he began in a tone of certainty, hardly swayed by the soft derisive chuckle Aglarel uttered at the words goodness and generosity. "You believe that the assassination attempt is somehow linked to Lim's elevated status and his deal with the High Prince. You have been watching him, haven't you? You came to us for help."
"I told you," Aveil couldn't help putting in quietly, smiling into her glass of orange juice. "He is smarter than you give him credit for – he will be invaluable to our cause, Prince. Tell him."
Again Aglarel visibly hesitated; Phendrana held his gaze, refusing to allow himself to be put off by the knowledge that Aglarel didn't expect much from him. The trust and respect he craved needed to be earned, he knew, and arguing the fact would do little to help him earn it. The Fourth Prince only broke the eye contact to glance Aveil's way, his expression skeptical. "The risk – "
"He won't betray you," the Sceptrana overrode him matter-of-factly. "It isn't in his nature."
Phendrana shot a questioning gaze Lamorak's way, suddenly grateful for his presence, but Lamorak only shrugged. How could it be that a Prince of Shade was just as out of the loop as he was?
"Fine," Aglarel spat finally in a clipped tone, abandoning his seat, "but not here. At the moment I find myself hesitant to trust Brennus with such sensitive information – and from all that I know of his limited contact with the High Prince since your return from Castle Tethyr, the High Prince feels the same. Come to Villa Hara – we will be safe enough there."
"Myself included?" Lamorak put in coolly, and Aglarel looked him over appraisingly, but not for long.
"I suppose you may as well, brother – you have heard too much not to be included now. Besides, I will need you to interpret the doppelganger's visions and to help keep him in line. From what I have seen, I am not altogether convinced of his mental stability." With those words Aglarel dissolved into his own shadow, leaving Lamorak to roll his eyes and Phendrana to sigh heavily beneath his breath.
Aveil retrieved her staff with a sympathetic expression on her face. "Do not take what he says too closely to heart," she told Phendrana reassuringly, in a voice quite unlike the one he was used to. "He does not give his trust freely to anyone, and reserves his respect only for the High Prince."
"He trusts you," Phendrana pointed out, and for some reason his words made her blanch.
"He tolerates me," she corrected sadly, and without another word she followed in the Fourth Prince's wake.
"Curious," was all Lamorak would say, and then he set off behind her. Phendrana had little choice but to pursue them – his insatiable thirst for knowledge would hardly prevent him from doing otherwise.
Villa Hara, the personal residence of Fourth Prince Aglarel and the temporary lodgings of Sceptrana Arthien, was a location Phendrana had never before had cause or reason to visit and was therefore completely unfamiliar with it; only by honing in on the unique aura that Aglarel emitted almost constantly, one that was equal parts mysterious and ominous, was Phendrana able to navigate the Shadow Realm in the direction he desired to go. Fortunately Lamorak was only a few paces in front of him so Phendrana was able to follow his slightly-distorted form most of the way, and simply stepped out of the Shadow Plane in the precise place the Determinist Prime did so. He found himself standing in what he presumed was Aglarel's bedchamber, sparsely furnished and dark save for the host of candles burning deep crimson flames upon the ebony headboard; his eye was inexorably drawn to the ornate glass cabinet in one corner in which several dozen daggers were on display, but Aveil was laying her staff aside again and Aglarel was hastily twitching the drapes shut over the balcony.
"What I am about to tell you," the Fourth Prince began in a low voice, waving them into chairs around the little-used dining table, "is in direct violation of the High Prince's mandate. We have had a great deal of debate amongst ourselves over the past lunar cycle about the motivations behind our actions and whether we will be considered traitors against the crown for all that we have done and all we have yet to do. The High Prince – as you well know, Lamorak – has ordered us all to accept the elevation of Lim Tal'eyve and to welcome him into our fold, but Aveil and I remain skeptical as to the drow's true intentions. It may be that all is as he says, and that through his alliance with the High Prince he truly means to overthrow the Spider Queen, but as the head of his personal security I cannot simply accept his claims without at least exploring the other most likely avenue – and that is that the drow is fooling our sovereign, and even now plots his overthrow."
Lamorak visibly started. "For what reason could you suspect him of such a thing?"
Aglarel spread his hands – he had neglected to join them at the table and was now standing before them, looking as though he was resisting the urge to begin pacing. "How could I not? He led a host of phaerimm into our midst, and he did it all with the Spider Queen's support – why would he forsake that and turn against her, when she has given him so much? Lim is not beholden to the Most High, he only pretends to be – it may be that I am wrong in this, but until I know for certain I will keep the drow at arm's length, and I will continue to haunt his steps until the truth becomes known to me."
"You think he has gained the High Prince's confidence with his offer to deliver the Spider Queen?" Phendrana spoke up then. "You think he will turn on him? For what reason?"
"He has done as much on numerous occasions in the past," Aveil explained, her fingernails rhythmically tapping on the table as she responded. "He allied himself with the Jaezred Chaulssin when Lolth withdrew her grace from the drow priestesses, but threw down his sword and claimed fealty when she returned. He threw in his lot with Rule of Three in Sigil, only to turn around and stab him in the back the moment the Lady of Pain had been eliminated. He took up with me when I set myself against the Citadel of Assassins, but sided with Knellict when that relationship proved more fruitful. He bore the githyanki commander Rivek the Pathfinder from the astral plane and set him upon the Bloodstone Lands, but ignored his cries for help when their conquest went sour. His alliances are fleeting, and he uses them only for personal gain – once such allegiances have run their course, he severs all ties and kills his business associates when he believes they might threaten him later. Such will be the nature of his dealings with the Most High, I am certain – he has accepted the gift of the shadow and may use it to overthrow the Spider Queen if he can, but what will happen to the High Prince if Lim manages to harness a power greater than that of our sovereign's? Can we be willing to risk the High Prince's safety, all because he has ordered us that we must obey him in this?"
Aveil's history with Lim Tal'eyve was sordid and storied enough that Phendrana did not feel the need to question her on it – her judgment where the drow was concerned was more sound than any other among them now, it seemed – but there remained one thing yet he didn't understand. "What has he done for you to suspect his intentions are less than honorable?"
"He forms troubling alliances," Aglarel admitted tersely, a sneer curling up the corner of his mouth as he recalled something less than desirable. "At first he did nothing but follow the High Prince's every command to the letter and keep from drawing any unwanted attention to himself, but when the pressures of the Most High's office began to demand more of his attention Lim began to make his first moves. Already Aveil had spied him conversing with Rapha on multiple occasions, and I have seen them together in Rapha's harem." His gaze had settled upon Lamorak when he finished, "You know as well as I that Rapha is very particular when it comes to inviting anyone into his… palace."
Lamorak shifted a little uncomfortably, it seemed, before muttering, "I do."
"And of this business with Hadrhune we knew nothing," Aveil put in, leveling her concerned expression upon Aglarel. "Though we have both been studiously avoiding him for several months now, so it has undoubtedly escaped our notice… It stands to reason that Lim took note of our distaste for Hadrhune and capitalized on that, knowing that Hadrhune would enter into an alliance with him if he thought he might have the opportunity to exact revenge upon us."
Phendrana blinked, momentarily confused. "But why would Hadrhune want to exact revenge on you?"
"By my own actions I caused his fall from the High Prince's favor," Aglarel admitted, seeming unrepentant. "He was carrying on privately with Aveil without the High Prince's permission, and the High Prince became aware of it and ordered Hadrhune's humiliation as punishment. I have made no secret of the fact that I have come to favor Aveil's ascension within the council – she has atoned for her past mistakes, and she works hard now to serve our sovereign to the best of her ability. Doubtless Hadrhune views my support as favoritism, and assumes I only intervened because I coveted what was once his."
"Preposterous," Aveil scoffed, and though she and Aglarel shared a laugh at that Phendrana couldn't help but notice they didn't meet one another's eyes.
Lamorak steered the conversation back on track then, his eyes fixed upon the table as he stroked his chin thoughtfully with one hand. "Lim will accomplish little with one Prince of Shade and one shadow sorcerer at his side." His eyes widened a bit then, and he sat up straighter in his chair. "Yder and Rivalen also left the council session this morning, shortly after Rapha stormed out."
"And many others are beginning to question the High Prince's leadership," Phendrana pointed out, remembering. "Dethud asked many questions – innocent inquiries all, but does he not usually sit by and keep his own counsel? Even Mattick and Vattick spoke up once or twice; not to mention that Melegaunt and Brennus both kept their silence throughout the entirety of the meeting, which could easily be misconstrued as lack of faith."
"You are beginning to think as we do," Aglarel congratulated him. "The seeds of doubt are being sown within the High Prince's court, and already Lim is reaping the rewards. With enough of the Princes of Shade at his back, the drow could stage a mutiny. We could stand against them, it is true, but even if we were to win… Never in the history of the Tanthul dynasty has one brother raised sword against his kin with the intention of ending his brother's life. Everything that we have ever known will change."
There was silence for a moment as they all considered the implications of such a bleak future, until Lamorak looked up and said, "But if Lim intends to betray the High Prince, why would a drow assassin come to Thultanthar at all? Is the incident an isolated one, or are all these events somehow connected?"
"The Spider Queen would only send her emissaries against us if Lim had truly forsaken her," Phendrana pointed out, and Aglarel nodded assent.
"I have already arrived at a similar conclusion, but can both events not come to pass? It may be that the drow has cast his lot in with the High Prince with every intention of destroying Lolth for now, but who is to say that he won't turn against our sovereign once he has achieved that end? I cannot help but think this arrangement is one of convenience for Lim… the High Prince is useful to him now, but who can say for how long?"
"So you are saying," Lamorak began haltingly, with the air of one who is having great difficulty comprehending something, "that even though the Most High has commanded us all to accept Lim Tal'eyve's elevation without issue you are monitoring all of his movements and even now suspecting him of conspiracy and assumed treason?"
"That is precisely what I'm saying," Aglarel confirmed with a somewhat undignified snort, and there was a challenge in his tone of voice that made Phendrana anxious. "You can aid us in these matters or present them to the High Prince at your leisure, but I must warn you – Aveil and I have already agreed that we would see this through to the end, for good or ill. If you choose to stand against us, we will retaliate in kind."
Aveil raised her head a fraction higher, and for a moment her face reflected the superiority that until very recently had been her characteristic expression. "We will protect the High Prince," she agreed, fierce loyalty apparent in her every syllable, "no matter the cost."
Lamorak shifted uncomfortably, and though his response was half-formed it was clear the rest would not be favorable. "I am not certain I feel entirely comfortable with – "
But Phendrana overrode him before he had ample opportunity to complete his sentence. "What is it you're asking us to do?"
Aglarel narrowed his eyes dangerously. "I will be frank with you – I had never intended to come to you, of all people, with this proposal. However, shortly following the foiled assassination attempt Aveil petitioned me to include you in our inner workings; I had thought to refuse, but hearing of the accuracy of your visions and seeing that you single-handedly thwarted an attempt on the High Prince's life I find myself being forced to reconsider. I would ask that you help us in our endeavors – continue to make the well-being of the High Prince and his subjects a priority and, knowing that Lim Tal'eyve may very well pose a threat to our sovereign, assist us in thwarting him wherever we deem that necessary."
"This is radical," Lamorak put in disapprovingly. "Too radical for you, Aglarel. Never have you placed yourself in a situation that might bring your loyalty into question, but this? You understand if you are wrong, the punishment is treason. The High Prince himself kills those who oppose the crown."
Suddenly Aveil had leapt from her seat, eyes glittering with white-hot rage and color rising into her cheeks; Phendrana felt taken aback by her sudden change in demeanor, which he felt was unprovoked until she began to speak. "And if we stand by and do nothing, knowing that by remaining idle we may doom the High Prince to whatever fate the drow might fashion for him?! What then?! Are you willing to step aside, watching and waiting for some ill to befall him?! Will we not be just as doomed to suffer punishment if it is found that we suspected a plot against him but failed to act because we were afraid?!"
"Aveil!" Aglarel snapped at once, his voice like the crack of a whip, but for once Aveil chose not to heed him.
"No! They need to hear this!" She ground her teeth in frustration and clenched her hands into tight fists at her sides, fingernails digging into her palms hard enough to puncture the flesh, and though Phendrana winced he found he was in awe of her courage perhaps for the first time since they had met. "This is your way of life – don't you care that this outsider now holds the potential to threaten it?! Do you not realize that if we fail to act and you are all utterly destroyed, that your entire civilization will become extinct all on account of your stupidity?!"
Lamorak sucked in a breath to respond scathingly, his face contorted with rage; with Aglarel bearing down upon Aveil looking murderous, Phendrana found himself leaping to her aid. Looking back he knew that it was foolish to make such a snap decision based upon his emotions alone and not a logical overview of the facts presented, but in that moment all he was aware of was the fierce pride and protectiveness in Aveil's face and the surge of inspiration it incited within his chest. This was the way that he felt about Thultanthar, the city where he had began his life anew and pledged himself completely to the advancement and glory of a higher power that he adored. How could he turn his back upon her, knowing that she had found the same?
"I will help you," Phendrana told her, "and for my part, I am grateful that you chose to come to me with these concerns. I will do everything that is in my power to keep the High Prince safe. The consequences mean nothing to me – this is all I have ever desired to live for."
"Phendrana – " Lamorak began, somehow disheartened, but the doppelganger would hear no more.
"No," he said gently, holding up one hand to stay the rest of the Third Prince's protests. "Please. Surely you of all people can understand why I must do this, Prince? It is because of people like you that I must do all that I can to help unravel this plot and to put an end to it, if that is what is needed of me. The High Prince has given me everything – his trust, his respect, all these worldly possessions that I do not need and all this power that I feel I could never deserve – and you have given me your time and consideration when everyone else might have turned their backs on my plight. All of those things are worth preserving, aren't they? Were I to refuse this request, it would mean that I never cared for all that I have been given in the first place – and I do care. More than anything, I want to do my part."
Aglarel was on his feet now, and though he didn't appear any less angry it seemed to Phendrana that his fury was better contained. "Then rest assured I will be in touch when I have further use for you," he told Phendrana tersely, and then he turned his eyes upon Lamorak, who held up one hand as if in reassurance.
"I will keep your secrets," said the Third Prince softly, "but only because I feel you have the High Prince's best interests in mind at all times. Should it ever seem that this ceases to be the case, however – "
"I understand," Aglarel cut him off impatiently. "I would ask that you leave now, but you – " He was pointing at Aveil accusingly, "Stay. I think we have plenty to discuss."
Phendrana didn't need telling twice, and Lamorak seemed just as eager to escape; they moved to the Shadow Realm together, unspeaking as they made their way back to Villa Tareia, looking anywhere but at each other until they had set foot within Phendrana's private quarters again.
That was when the doppelganger turned to face Lamorak with a sad smile, for he knew that their camaraderie was coming to a close. The Third Prince had recovered his typical clinical demeanor, surveying Phendrana as a doctor might regard a patient, and with a pang of regret Phendrana wondered for the first time if he was the only one who had considered their relationship to be anything other than coolly professional.
"Will you not reconsider?" Lamorak probed, a hint of desperation in his voice, and while Phendrana found himself smiling at the prince's concern he knew there was only one real answer.
"Will you?"
Lamorak opened and closed his mouth several times, doubt and resolution chasing themselves around in his eyes, and the obvious struggle made Phendrana wonder if he had been wrong to assume anything about the other man. "I may," he said at last, and though his answer was vague the doppelganger couldn't help but appreciate his honesty. "If you should come by some proof of these allegations, some way to be certain that Lim is plotting against the Most High… Then of course I would be most willing to support this cause. Until then, I'm afraid…"
"Until then," Phendrana repeated, to save him the trouble of continuing in the face of such discomfort.
Still the Determinist Prime hesitated. "You will continue to come to the Guild for your evaluations, and your lessons?"
Phendrana tossed him a wink and laughed softly to himself. "Of course. Apparently my mental stability is in question."
Lamorak couldn't help but laugh along with him at that, but it was brief and the concern never truly left his eyes. It seemed as though there remained yet one thought he wished to share; he stood there battling with it for a moment longer before plucking up the courage to say, "Do not give up on Brennus yet. I spoke with him little but it is clear to me that there are other forces at work here, some outside influence that fuels his rage. He is a mean creature on the outside, that much is true, but beneath that he is a broken man."
"I understand," Phendrana murmured with a sad little smile, "but I cannot afford to think of that now."
"Take great care, Phendrana," Lamorak warned somberly, sensing that the time to depart was upon him, and then he was gone and Phendrana was alone again.
The urge to stand glaring at Brennus's closed door gripped him in its clutches, instinctive and strong, but Phendrana had only to remember the look of undiluted fear with which the Twelfth Prince had regarded him only hours ago to sublimate it.
The moment they were alone Aglarel seized Aveil by the elbow with one hand and dragged her around to face him, his grip tight enough to make her muscles ache and her fingertips tingle with lack of circulation. Though the look in his eyes suggested he was contemplating murder she stood her ground, glaring up at him with every ounce of malice she could muster into her expression and pretending for all the world that she wasn't at all intimidated by his much-taller frame; though Aglarel was by no means the tallest of his brothers, at three or four inches above six feet he still dwarfed her five-foot body by a considerable amount. She attempted to tug her arm free but he snarled at her, the noise animalistic and feral, the crimson candlelight glinting ominously off his ceremonial fangs.
"Now would seem a very poor time for you to fall back into your old habits," sneered the Fourth Prince distastefully. "To speak to a Prince of Shade in such a disrespectful manner – I had thought such foolish behavior was beneath you!"
"I will not take back a single word!" the Sceptrana spat. "Would that I had the courage to say as much to the rest of your brothers as well! Lim Tal'eyve takes what he wants using a few manipulative words and just as many beguiling promises, and the High Prince's court succumbs to division when we ought to be standing up to this menace! Mortals live in fear of the City of Shade – they pass beneath its shadow over the hellish sands of Anauroch and haven't the courage to raise their eyes to the heavens even to glimpse it, and yet most of you are too cowardly to treat this would-be usurper with the suspicion he has earned! Thank the Gods that the High Prince has you, and you are willing to sacrifice whatever is asked of you to preserve this way of life!"
"Your mistreatment of my brother has cost us what may have been a useful ally," Aglarel reminded her, his tone low and dangerous. "And let us not forget that now he knows everything, and has the option of divulging the truth of our movements to the High Prince whenever he deems it most profitable to himself! I told you this would turn sour, but you insisted, you damnable wretch!"
Aveil narrowed her eyes, stoically ignoring the uncomfortable numb sensation of her now-lifeless fingers. "And you might have refused me, but you took my advice."
"Because I value your opinion," Aglarel growled, an admittance that seemed to cause him pain, "though the Night Mother knows why."
Aveil knew better than to accept such a compliment without acknowledging it – the Fourth Prince was secretive in his conduct and granted his trust to only a select few, and to take such a precious thing for granted would not be wise. She allowed the tension to ease out of her body, though of course she was terrified in no small part at being in such close proximity to his rage, and forced her expression to soften. "And that is a great honor. All that I have told you is true – and did the doppelganger not pledge to aid us, just as I suggested he might? Besides, Prince Lamorak swore to keep your silence – he will not betray you, unless he becomes somehow convinced that your cause threatens the High Prince in some way."
Aglarel was hardly placated by this, and the disdain in his voice told her as much. "So we have broken our silence all on account of one doppelganger. Forgive me if I do not rejoice."
"That 'one doppelganger' single-handedly saved the High Prince's life just hours ago," Aveil reminded solemnly, "yet you are still not convinced of his usefulness? The High Prince acknowledges his worth despite his mind's obvious flaws, and a good thing too – had he chosen to cast him out after Brennus turned him to the shadow, our sovereign would be dead now and the enclave likely in chaos. Who knows what havoc Lim might have wrecked in the wake of the High Prince's death?"
That at last seemed to pierce through the last of the Fourth Prince's residual anger – Aveil was certain she witnessed the reason returning to his eyes, and seemingly as an afterthought he released her. The Sceptrana breathed an inaudible sigh of relief when the familiar sensation of blood pumping into her arm revitalized her fingers but she did not distance herself from him, for there was a curiosity in his eyes the likes of which she had never glimpsed and it was intriguing enough to keep her rooted where she stood. Aveil was certain he intended to speak but the words didn't come, lost somewhere in the sudden unexplainable turmoil in his eyes, and when she found that she could no longer stay silent beneath the weight of his intense gaze she opened her mouth only for him to speak first. "Why did you say all those things to Lamorak?"
She shrugged her diminutive shoulders, the motion sending a ripple through her charcoal-gray arcanist's robes. "Why wouldn't I? He was blind to the severity of the situation so I chose to enlighten him. I would have said as much to anyone if I thought it might make them understand the just nature of our cause."
Aglarel snorted down at her, hardly convinced. "Thultanthar is not your home, Sceptrana – you have no real attachments to this place. As I recall it has been both your prison and your tomb in the not-so-distant past. For you to strive so gallantly to protect it is somewhat… out of character for you."
"It is still not my home," Aveil admitted quietly. "And perhaps it will never be my home, but it is the one place where I have found forgiveness, and acceptance, and purpose. I think that is one of the traits that so sets the High Prince above other worldly kings – not only is he willing to forgive those who have transgressed against him, but he is always able to see their true potential and offer them a place for their talents when they have proved themselves deserving of it." Aglarel's eyes were fixed upon her face so intently that she was certain he did not overlook the misty quality her eyes had taken on when she finished, "I have never found such things in all my travels or hardships – I have been given only my just desserts, all of which I have rightfully earned, and nothing more. But forgiveness changes a person, Prince, and the kindness of your sovereign has so changed me."
"Forgive me," Aglarel muttered, his voice far gruffer than usual for some reason. "I fear I am still unused to this version of you that is not conniving, and manipulative, and argumentative, and deceitful."
It was a measure of just how far Aveil had come that she laughed in the face of all those qualities she knew well enough had characterized her to the letter not so long ago. "I did not realize you thought so highly of me!" she jested dryly, even going so far as to toss a wink his way, and though he did not smile the shape of Aglarel's eyes changed in a way that suggested he was amused.
"Lamorak will keep his silence," Aglarel said aloud, as much to her as to himself. "We must count on that, or our entire operation will be compromised before we have accomplished anything. The doppelganger – "
"Phendrana," Aveil insisted with a huff, and the Fourth Prince actually rolled his eyes.
" – Has said he will help us, and you had better believe I will hold him to that promise in the days to come." His expression changed then, grew harder and more serious. "Do not think that I mean to trivialize the fate that the doppelganger – oh for the love of Shar, Phendrana - has envisioned for you, but if we are certain it will not come to pass until the masquerade I will not focus on it just yet. It seems we now have other deaths we must prevent, the timelines of which are not as well known."
"I agree," said Aveil fervently. "That which we do not know should take precedence."
Aglarel squared his shoulders and at last put a little space between them, and Aveil took what felt like her first real breath in a long time; his expression was clouded, contemplative. "Phendrana is alone in his vision and unable to stand against the drow he is meant to face – I would ask that you keep an eye on him, since you favor his cause. It may be that through your presence alone the attempt on his life might be foiled."
"And you?" Aveil was frowning. "You are in no less danger – more, I think, since your demise wears the High Prince's face. How will you know when it is the Most High who stands before you, and when it is your own killer?"
Aglarel heaved a sigh, clearly displeased with the prospect of coming to blows with his beloved sovereign and father, and dropped his gaze unwillingly to the ground. "I can attempt to avoid situations which leave me alone with him, but I suspect not for long – the real High Prince might come to view my behavior as suspicious, and that is something we cannot afford given our delicate position between him and Lim Tal'eyve. I may have no choice but to trust to my instincts and my judgment when I am in his presence, and hope that that is enough to keep me from harm."
Aveil's eyes were grave. "I cannot say I approve of your methods."
"Have you a better option?" Aglarel fired back, and Aveil squared her jaw stubbornly.
"We may yet be able to convince Lamorak to help us," she told him, but it was obvious in the way she cast about for words that she was grasping at straws.
Aglarel shook his head. "I believe you have said quite enough to my brother today. For now it is enough that he has agreed not to expose us."
"Then I will help you."
"Have I not already given you your instructions for the days to come?" Seeing another protest brewing in the Sceptrana's eyes, Aglarel hurried on to derail her swiftly-mounting tirade. "Enough, Aveil, I'll hear no more on the subject. I warned you that it would be like this from the moment you cast your lot in with me against the drow – a life of secrets fraught with lies and thankless sacrifices. You agreed that you could handle all that we might face and I took you at your word, for I assumed you were strong enough to stand with me. Was I wrong?"
If there was one thing Aveil could not stand it was admitting that she had been wrong about something, and she never admitted defeat in the face of a challenge; she crossed her arms haughtily over her chest and automatically jutted out one hip as she glared at him, and for a moment Aglarel was reminded of the vindictive little snow elf spellcaster he had dealt with for the first time at the Citadel of Assassins. Somehow it was reassuring to know that the old Aveil was still buried down deep in there somewhere – her insubordination, her sarcasm, and her innately conniving nature gave him a great deal of amusement most of the time, not to mention it was a nice departure from the often mundane routine of day-to-day life. He could feel himself smirking down at her, the challenge apparent for her to see, and was certain it weighed heavily into her response. "No, you weren't wrong. I said I would help and I meant it."
"Good." His demeanor shifted again, his expression growing dour. "Now tell me about Lim and Hadrhune."
They had had barely half a minute to plan their next moves when the council session had come to a close, just long enough for Aglarel to concede that Phendrana's visions might be vital to their success and set Aveil to spy upon the unlikely duo of Hadrhune and Lim Tal'eyve. The tense set of her shoulders and her too-vacant expression had given her away, clear indicators into the depths of her discomfort at taking on such a task, but she had scarcely complained and Aglarel hadn't had time to bolster her resolve; it hadn't escaped his notice that she had been pale and rattled when he had summoned her to Phendrana's chambers, and he knew that there was an explanation there.
Aveil heaved a sigh and all but flung herself down into a slouched position on the edge of Aglarel's bed, her hair momentarily concealing her face as she gazed down at the carpet underfoot; the Fourth Prince made a quiet noise of dissent beneath his breath but otherwise didn't protest to her familiarity, deciding for the moment that she might be of more use to him if she was comfortable. Despite the earliness of the hour he poured her a meager glass of Netherese heartwine – the Sceptrana of Thultanthar thought a little more concisely with the taste of wine upon her tongue. "I was able to shadow them to the Church of Shar, though not without difficulty," she confessed, accepting the glass gratefully and taking a modest sip. "They speak little in public, but they make no secret of the fact that they are on amiable terms."
Aglarel's brow furrowed as he set the wine decanter aside. "What business could either of them possibly have at the Church?"
"I wondered that myself," Aveil admitted tersely, "until I saw them approach Rivalen and Yder."
The Fourth Prince surveyed her incredulously, incapable of speaking for several moments. The implications of such a meeting could easily spell doom for not only his and Aveil's agenda, but for all of Thultanthar; the thought was enough to incite within him the sensation that blood had frozen in his veins, though of course he hadn't been possessed of such a thing for centuries. "If they have cast their lot in with Lim," he said at length, his voice uncharacteristically grim, "then the situation is far more dire than we could ever have imagined. With the support of the High Prince's second eldest son Lim could easily stage a mutiny."
"Both continue to support the advancement of Hadrhune," Aveil reported, "but I am pleased to say that they seem to hold little love for Lim. The conversation was brief, and Rivalen sent them away looking anything but pleased by the encounter. I couldn't hear what passed between them, but I doubt any alliance has been agreed upon at this point in time."
"Shar be praised that Rivalen is still possessed of his good sense," Aglarel murmured beneath his breath. "I am glad to hear of it, but that does not explain your state of unease when I summoned you."
Aveil quaffed a slightly larger sip of wine; Aglarel watched her intake carefully, certain they were arriving at the crux of the matter. It was with great trepidation that she at last confided, "They were aware of my presence."
"How?" Aglarel pressed. "Surely you weren't so foolish as to reveal yourself?"
"Your vote of confidence is most heartening," she told him dryly, her violet eyes slits of disdain within her heart-shaped face. "No, in the chapel I took refuge in the central balcony, crouched down beneath the first row of pews – I am certain I was out of sight, yet when they took their leave of your brothers they scaled the steps to the balcony and set to wandering through the pews, starting at the back."
"Did they say anything?" growled the Fourth Prince.
Aveil nodded and finished off her wine, her eyes fixed longingly upon the decanter when she said, "Yes – they called my name, laughing all the while, chiding me, attempting to lure me out. When they drew too near for my liking I escaped into the Shadow Realm, but almost immediately after I felt their presences both lurking nearby and knew that I was being followed. It was then that you summoned me, and so I ran." She kept her composure well, but Aglarel was highly observant and did not miss the little changes in her posture that spoke volumes into her discomfort – her fingertips were white upon the glass she held, her breathing had accelerated slightly during the retelling, and her pupils were slightly dilated. For some reason he couldn't explain, the knowledge that she was terrified made him angry.
"Aveil," he called out to her, his voice soft and somehow ragged. "Are you alright?"
Her eyes darted to him swiftly and she rearranged her expression, eyes growing hard, face becoming unreadable; Aglarel gazed back at her, unsure of what to say, knowing that she was hiding the truth of her feelings but unable to coax them out of her. She didn't want to seem weak in front of him, he presumed, which was just as well – the Fourth Prince wasn't an emotional being, approaching every situation with a characteristic cool detachment, and Aveil was quite the opposite. Strangely he found that he wanted her to confide in him, but hadn't the slightest clue how to convey such an unfamiliar desire.
"Of course," Aveil told him lightly, forcing a smile onto her face, and she rose sinuously to her feet and placed the glass beside the decanter before taking up her staff, all traces of fear wiped clean of her face, all business again. "I'll seek them out again and see what I might learn."
"No," Aglarel found himself saying. "Don't. Stay here and rest – I will go myself. The hour is early and you have slept little – you're no use to me without rest, and we will need our wits about us for the ceremony later today. With so much commotion, another assassin could slip easily into our midst."
It was clear by her expression that she wanted to argue, but exhaustion won out in the end and Aveil conceded. "Call upon me if there is anything you require before the ceremony," she requested. "I will help you as best I may."
Aglarel chose not to reply, instead watching silently as she shadow walked out of his private quarters. The moment she was gone he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, vexed by all that had transpired, and resolved to wait a little while before advancing on Hadrhune and Lim. His temper was a frightful thing… There was no telling what he might do if he lost control of it.
"Must you always look so morose?" sighed Lim Tal'eyve, the hint of a childish whine in his voice, and Hadrhune gritted his teeth and barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
He had reluctantly agreed to accompany his unlikely companion to Rapha's harem after their impromptu meeting with Rivalen and Yder had failed to play out in their favor, and was already wishing that he had declined the offer and returned to the College and his studies; in life Lim had proved to be a dynamic being whose enthusiasm for physical pleasures seemed impossible to contain within his body, with a voracious appetite for knowledge and politics and war and a lust that couldn't be satiated. He frequented taverns in the Lower District and mingled with the common people, behavior that was becoming habitual and that Hadrhune looked upon with great distaste – shades could become inebriated, of course, but given the extraplanar composition of their bodies it was nearly an impossible task and besides, what good were they to the High Prince when their minds were muddled with drink? The drow would drink and eat and dance and sing and whore every moment he was not otherwise occupied with his studies at the College or some manner of council business, and Hadrhune found such a lifestyle exhausting. If he was prepared to be perfectly honest with himself, he almost wished he had never agreed to help Lim in the first place.
Almost.
Hadrhune sighed and hitched his shoulders irritably, half-glaring down at Lim where he reclined against a mound of decorative tasseled pillows. The drow had both arms flung over his head, interlocked fingers supporting his neck, lounging languidly as though he hadn't a care in the world; he had discarded his armor and piwafwi and had a giggling harem girl lolling on either side of him, one kneading the muscles of his shoulders and the other unlacing his tunic at a leisurely pace. Hadrhune hated it here – really, genuinely hated it.
Most of the time.
"I haven't the time to lounge about all day long, engaging in idle pleasantries," the seneschal snapped, steadfastly ignoring the scantily-clad harem girl that trailed her index finger along his shoulder blades as she passed. "You promised me an explanation, and I am still waiting for you to deliver."
"Look around you!" Lim exclaimed raucously, gesturing wildly about their surroundings with one hand with the air of one revealing something grand, but whatever majesty he saw in their current environment was lost on Hadrhune. "I am almost ashamed to call you my companion," he chastised with a sly wink. "It is bad manners to feign disinterest in a pleasure palace such as this!"
"If you have no interest in telling me what you promised," Hadrhune overrode him, pretending he hadn't heard a single word, "then I will take my leave. I should be attending the High Prince."
The mocking laugh that was Lim's initial response made Hadrhune's blood boil, and unthinkingly he gouged his thumbnail into the worn groove in the shaft of his darkstaff; Lim propped himself up onto his elbows, his face filled with a kind of malicious mischievousness. "Oh, Hadrhune, it really is precious how you continue to delude yourself, but you and I both know that the High Prince has no use for you. He reserves all his favor for others now. When will you learn that?"
"He has forgiven me for my transgressions," Hadrhune found himself saying for what seemed like the hundredth time, and even he was getting tired of hearing it. "He has said he is willing to place his trust in me again."
Lim allowed himself to fall back against his pillows again, throwing one arm theatrically over his eyes. "Because he is a wise ruler who knows full well that his promises keep you close. Believe me, my friend, for this is one thing that I know – trust cannot always be earned. Sometimes it must be taken." Predictably Hadrhune opened his mouth to protest, to stumble through yet another repeat performance of one of the same tired old excuses, but this time he floundered in silence before closing his mouth and glaring down at Lim as though resigned to hearing what he had to say.
Finally, Lim thought victoriously to himself. He had been waiting for this moment. Merely to placate Hadrhune he said airily, "Very well, I will tell you what you wish to know – it seems the only way I can keep your attention, despite the other tempting stimuli I have surrounded you with."
"I will hear what you have to say on the subject of taking trust afterward," Hadrhune promised, and Lim nodded in agreement, secretly pleased; he gestured to the mound of pillows across from him with a lazy wave of one hand, and though the tension in his posture remained the seneschal condescended to sit down. Well, at least that was something.
"You waste your energy being angry with me over the assassin, and you insult me with your assumptions that I had anything to do with that sordid affair in the first place," Lim sniffed, doing his very best to seem offended when in truth he was simply amused. "How could I have known my people would begin cropping up in our midst with murderous intentions? We are seldom apart – you would have noticed my absence."
"Perhaps you didn't know," Hadrhune conceded reluctantly, "but you guessed."
One of the harem girls was unlacing Lim's breeches, but the drow slapped her hand away. "Darling, please – business before pleasure." Then he rolled his eyes Hadrhune's way. "Of course I guessed – I would be a fool not to. I am far away now from the Spider Queen's influence but never far from her sight – it was only a matter of time before she caught wind of my accord with your sovereign and retaliated in kind. I was prepared for her agents to seek me out, but to attempt murder on the High Prince of Thultanthar? Who could ever have imagined that they would be so bold?"
"Do you know the purpose behind the attack?" Hadrhune pressed, and Lim snorted disgracefully.
"Of course I don't – unless the Spider Queen's chosen assassin somehow mistook the Most High for myself, in which case I do believe she needs to choose her agents a little more carefully."
"You play dangerous games that I do not enjoy," Hadrhune informed him gravely. "Games the nature of which I am not certain I wish to be a part of."
Lim yawned widely as though bored. "You are referring to our meeting with Rivalen and Yder? They are skeptical now, but they will come around more quickly than you can imagine. Their hesitance to offer their support stems from the attack on the High Prince, nothing more. They assume, like you do, that I had a hand in that plot – when I can convince them otherwise, their opinions will change." Lim smiled then as though he was hardly concerned with the matter and finished, "You didn't think they would all be as easy to cow as dear Rapha, did you?"
Hadrhune continued to glare back at him, aware of just how similar they appeared physically and hating the drow all the more for it. "You have nothing to offer them," he reminded scathingly. "You promised Rapha the bloody conflict he has long hoped for, and to me you have promised vengeance. How will you win over the pious sons of the Church of Shar?"
"With Lolth." Hadrhune blinked; it was clear in his blank expression that this wasn't the response he had been expecting. "Those who are as devout as they are will be interested in only one thing – pleasing their goddess, Shar. And what could please the Night Mother more than throwing the Spider Queen, her most eternally hated rival, to her feet in chains?"
"They will inform the Most High of your proposal, and we will all be ruined," Hadrhune pointed out with certainty.
"They will do nothing of the sort," Lim shot back. "They will wait and watch. The intrigue is too strong."
"You don't have Lolth," Hadrhune reminded bluntly.
"But I will."
"When?"
"When the time is right."
Hadrhune heaved a melodramatic sigh. "I grow tired of speaking in riddles. How?"
"There is something that I need," Lim confided, his voice low and conspiratorial now. "But it is not yet within my possession, and until it is I can hardly act."
"What is it?"
"That would spoil the surprise."
The shadow sorcerer made a show of scanning their surroundings with exaggerated care before saying, "It would seem you aren't looking very hard."
"I don't need to look," Lim scoffed, as though the mere notion were simply preposterous. "I am not a man fumbling helplessly in the dark. I know where it is, but it is inaccessible to me."
"And do you expect it will simply fall into your lap?" Hadrhune sneered impatiently.
"Are you being deliberately obtuse? Of course I'm not. Someone is bringing it to me."
They stared one another down, Lim with amused delight dancing in his eyes and Hadrhune with no small amount of malice; it was clear that the seneschal was struggling within himself, fighting to keep from asking the obvious question, but the intrigue was too strong and he gave up quickly. "Who?"
Lim spread his hands, a smirk playing across his lips, and admitted, "Even I do not know some things, but don't fret over this – it will all make sense, in time."
Hadrhune narrowed his eyes. "You try my patience." Leaning his weight upon his staff he clambered to his feet then, adding, "I am through with your enigmas. You make promises you do not intend to keep, and you will be the downfall of us all."
"No," Lim corrected, "I try your patience because you have none. I have told you only the truth here, yet you refuse to believe it – everything I have said I intend to see through to the end. That's why you're here, isn't it? Because I told you that I could help you make Aglarel and Aveil suffer for all they have done to you?" He paused, awaiting further scathing remarks, but Hadrhune was silent now, listening. "They are already doing it to themselves, Hadrhune – scurrying about in the dark on their assumptions, weaving intricate webs, spreading their networks thin while they struggle to keep us under surveillance, but what have we done besides meet in this harem and discuss my promises? It's only a matter of time before the High Prince himself sniffs out their designs to bring me down – completely unprovoked, of course, I have no intention of ever openly opposing them - and when he does they will be ruined by no actions of ours. They will pry, and we will continue to scheme, but there is nothing for them to learn because we haven't done anything yet. And every minute they spend together they draw dangerously closer to the very same scenario that was your undoing, don't they? Aglarel may be the strongest among you, even I can't deny that, but he is still just a man and men are prone to succumbing to their desires. It will be no different with him, I assure you. As for Aveil… Well, I daresay the High Prince won't abide a second offense of this magnitude, now will he?"
Still Hadrhune said nothing, but that suited Lim just fine – the anticipation in his eyes was answer enough.
"Jessa!" called Lim triumphantly, snapping his fingers, and the harem girl who had brushed provocatively by Hadrhune not long ago sauntered over and draped herself sensually against Hadrhune's side. "My friend is looking unnecessarily tense, wouldn't you say?" Then he tossed a casual wink the seneschal's way, saying, "Do try to enjoy yourself this time, won't you? Now ladies… where were we?"
In the end, Hadrhune didn't resist. He was still just a man, after all, and more than surrendering to his desires he simply wanted not to think for a little while.