Phendrana slept until Lux woke him sometime well past midday with the news that he had a visitor. He had fallen asleep in his luminous adamantine mail and looked positively disheveled, and though the moon ivy dressing was holding admirably his starmetal wound still ached; hurriedly he discarded his mail and dressed down in his dark robes trimmed in silver, trying and failing not to remember just who had bestowed that particular gift upon him. His bed was unmade and his stomach rumbling when Lux returned wearing a grave, somehow apologetic expression that Phendrana didn't understand until his housekeeper stepped back to admit his visitor.
It was Lim Tal'eyve, wearing an expression of quiet confidence and perfect relaxation as though he hadn't a care in the world. He swept into a majestic bow – Phendrana gaped at the back of his head, open-mouthed with shock – before straightening up and offering the doppelganger a smile.
"Lord Phendrana," he began graciously, his amber eyes twinkling with goodwill and a hint of mischief. "I have come to congratulate you on the glorious titles the High Prince has a mind to bestow upon you today. Mind of the Most High… Hero of Thultanthar… lofty accolades both, and well-deserved as I understand it. You must be proud."
Phendrana gazed back at him blankly for what he knew was far too long, working to keep his face neutral as opposed to betraying the very real confusion and mistrust that churned deep within the pit of his stomach. Honestly he was quite mystified – he had only seen the drow once and that had been less than twenty four hours ago, not to mention that they could hardly be considered anything more than mere acquaintances. What could he possibly want? The doppelganger wasn't foolish enough to believe the drow's genteel act even for a moment – he knew well enough what Lim was capable of, and Aglarel and Aveil's warnings still rang fresh in his ears.
Mercifully Lux moved gracefully past him then, pressing his cherubic hand to the small of Phendrana's back as he passed under the pretense of straightening the tangled bed sheets; that simple gesture was enough to prompt his response, for he had allowed far too much time to elapse between the drow's seemingly innocuous inquiry and his own reply.
"Yes," Phendrana said at last, his voice hoarse with sleep and vague with confusion. "Very proud."
"You are a credit to the High Prince in every way," said Lim indulgently, his too-wide smile sending a shudder down Phendrana's spine as he cast his gaze politely yet curiously around the room; Phendrana wished he'd had the good sense to discard his armor in the washroom, and not on the floor of his private quarters in plain sight. The drow's demeanor shifted expertly then, a little crease forming between his brows as a singular dark thought clouded his mood, and added, "Why, when I think of what ill may have befallen the Most High were it not for your gifts… The very thought makes me shudder! How fortunate we are that you were knowledgeable and courageous enough to act in his defense!"
Phendrana couldn't help wondering just how much of this conversation had been rehearsed beforehand, but knew it would be far from prudent to ask such a thing and so swallowed back his disdainful query. "I merely performed as is expected of me," he said instead. "The High Prince has given me much, and all in exchange for nothing but my loyalty to him – he deserves all that I am capable of in return."
"Would that we were all possessed of your modesty and virtue," said Lim with a kind of whimsical sigh that was in no way in keeping with all that Phendrana knew of him. "I daresay that you found last night's opposition to your heroism quite distasteful – I know that for my part I was incensed on your behalf. For the Most High's own sons to treat you with such disrespect when you risked your life to keep their father from harm… Such reactions are blasphemous. Unforgivable."
The fog of fatigue blanketing Phendrana's mind at last lifted, and not a moment too soon; Phendrana stared back at Lim with a vacant expression as he processed the drow's words, scrutinizing them for their true meaning. Lim took the doppelganger's silence for agreement and continued on.
"I confess – I am fascinated by your dreams," said the drow conspiratorially, with the air of one who has just divulged a closely-kept secret. "To think that anyone could see such things with such clarity, and interpret them well enough to know precisely when to act to stave off disaster! A rare, precious gift, to be sure." He surveyed Phendrana with open curiosity then, not even bothering to hide his intrigue; Phendrana did his best to look nonplussed by such unwanted attention, when in reality the drow's too-interested stare caused him great discomfort. When next Lim spoke it was in a hushed tone of exaggerated secrecy. "I wonder, have you had any other fascinating dreams?"
"No," said Phendrana, a beat too quickly.
To his surprise, Lim chortled merrily into the back of his hand. "Of course you haven't," he agreed bemusedly, but his eyes were sharp when he added, "If you had that would mean you were withholding information from the Most High, wouldn't it? And you would never do anything like that – chivalrous, upstanding citizen that you are."
Phendrana just gazed back at him helplessly, quite at a loss for words.
"Though if you should find yourself having more dreams of a similar nature," Lim continued thoughtfully, dropping his voice to a harsh rasp and moving a step or two nearer to Phendrana. "Perhaps it would behoove you to share them with me. Now that I have seen what you are capable of I think I am justified in saying that we would make ideal allies – it is a hard life that we have chosen for ourselves, aspiring toward greatness within a society that prefers to promote the interests of those with a favorable birthright, but we seem to be up to the task so far, don't we?" He tossed Phendrana a playful wink then and finished, "I am like you, my friend – the High Prince's well being is also very close to my heart, and I would risk much to preserve him. I think we could benefit from one another's company – at least if you were to confide in me, I would see to it that none of the Most High's progeny opposed you ever again."
"That is a generous offer indeed," Phendrana acknowledged. "I will certainly take that into consideration should I find myself afflicted with more of the same."
"See that you do," was Lim's parting note, accompanied by yet another menacing, saccharine-sweet smile, and with a sweep of his piwafwi he let himself out.
Phendrana stared wonderingly after him, adrenaline burning away the last of his exhaustion. Lim Tal'eyve here, offering praises and promises of aid? It had been the last thing Phendrana had expected – after all, what did he have to offer that would seem appealing to someone like Lim? He wasn't treacherous in nature, he preferred to follow rather than lead, he had never been one to question authority and he felt he could scarcely fit in with Lim's constant scheming. The drow hadn't outright asked him for anything, for which Phendrana was exceedingly grateful – he was terrified of Aglarel and he mistrusted Aveil very much, but he thought he understood their motives well enough and knew he wouldn't have betrayed them to Lim no matter the price. Yet it seemed Lim had an uncanny way of coming by information he wouldn't otherwise be privy to, and Phendrana shuddered to think what might happen if Lim knew that the Fourth Prince and the Sceptrana were conspiring against him.
He wasn't at all surprised when a tentative knock sounded upon the door and Lux admitted himself; the boy came and went with barely a sound, and had somehow managed to exit after tidying up. He closed the door quietly behind him and took note of the puzzlement clouding Phendrana's expression, even picking up the traces of fear and suspicion. "Lord Phendrana, that was most irregular."
"Just Phendrana," the doppelganger reminded with a note of exasperation, and Lux nodded in earnest.
"Of course. Phendrana." He pitched his voice lower. "Forgive me for saying so, but that was a most unexpected visit – and you did not seem at all happy with the intrusion."
"I confess," said the mindmaster with a heavy sigh, "that I find myself exhausted by the intricacies of the inner workings transpiring all around me. Lamorak keeps me at arms' length, though I am certain he does so because he remembers well what happened to the last Prince of Shade who wound up too close to me. Lim forges troubling alliances - though for what reason he chooses to surround himself with such powerful friends I can only speculate – but feigns loyalty when he finds himself in the High Prince's company. Aveil has sworn herself to the service of Aglarel, and together they conspire to eliminate those who might threaten the Most High – though the High Prince himself has forbidden anyone to oppose Lim outright." He found himself looking to Lux for guidance, though he knew that if these matters were overwhelming to him the boy would be little help. "What am I to do? Who am I to trust?"
Lux spread his hands helplessly, his expression baffled. "Phendrana, I am your friend, but I am not your equal – I am a humble servant, and these affairs are beyond me. I am in no position to offer you counsel."
"I cannot say I am surprised," said Phendrana stiffly, moving to gather his armor and shoving it unceremoniously into a cabinet in his chest-of-drawers. "Few people will consent to counsel me these days. I feel I am more alone now than I ever was before I became a shade."
He turned back to find Lux watching him quietly, pity and understanding shining in those luminous green eyes, and instantly felt guilty for reprimanding the boy. After all, his head of housekeeping had done nothing but tell the truth – wasn't that what Phendrana really wanted, after all? He opened his mouth to stammer through an apology, suddenly terrified of losing his only real companion, but Lux spoke first. "What was it that Lim wanted? Did he enlist your aid? Did he threaten you?"
"He was…" The doppelganger trailed off, replaying the unanticipated meeting in his mind, wondering at the implications of certain words and phrases. "Kind, almost mockingly so. He seemed far more interested in my well being than he had any real reason to be, given that we are not well acquainted and this is the first opportunity I have had to speak with him on such a personal basis. He was inquisitive, but careful. I am not sure what he was after."
Lux was busying himself about Phendrana's dresser, gently extricating the discarded armor and inspecting the tear in the adamantine links with a practiced eye. When he spoke, his tone was thoughtful. "You said Lim has been forging alliances that trouble you. Perhaps his real purpose here was to seek out your allegiance."
Phendrana gawked, though of course Lux was still studying the ruined armor with absorbed fascination; the doppelganger had a feeling the boy was purposely avoiding his gaze. "What use could Lim have possibly designed for me?"
"Can you think of nothing?" asked Lux, suddenly impatient, his fingers tangled with unnecessary force in the smooth silvery links of the mail. "Your dreams are public knowledge now, Phendrana. I cannot say I am surprised by Lim's gesture of friendship toward you, nor do I think it will be the last of such conversations you will find yourself engaged in. To see the future… even brief, vague glimpses of it… That is something that many among us would barter much to obtain."
Phendrana gazed back over the past twenty four hours with new understanding then, seeing every encounter he had had since the assassin had paid his midnight visit to their sovereign with a different kind of clarity. Was this the true reason for Telamont's seemingly uncharacteristic mercy towards him – mercy born from the desperate hope of someone who would grant clemency for even a fleeting glimpse of what was to come? Was the sudden gesture of camaraderie that Aveil and Aglarel had extended his way little more than a twisted, conniving bid for some insight into what they might expect from those they had named their mortal enemies? Had Lim offered his support against those who would do Phendrana harm as bait, hoping that in doing so Phendrana might be tempted to share all that he had seen out of mere gratitude? And what of Lamorak's tolerance of him over these past weeks? Was that also nothing but a partnership born of special circumstances, a friendship forged out of a secret desire to harness the doppelganger's knowledge?
Suddenly Phendrana was coldly suspicious of everyone around him, and only became aware that his expression was mirroring his sudden shift in demeanor when Lux took a tentative step away from him with something like hurt lingering around his too-green eyes. Abruptly he was brought back to himself, a wash of intense guilt flooding him, but even as he opened his mouth to stumble through an apology Lux was tangling his fingers in the broken links of the armor again and clearing his throat.
"I believe I can mend this for you," he said with a quiet determination that made Phendrana feel somehow worse. "I will get to work on it straightaway. In the meantime, let me know if you should like your moon ivy changed – I know where I might find some more." And before the mindmaster had the chance to apologize Lux had bowed himself hastily out of the room.
Phendrana heaved a self-indulgent sigh. Was he doomed forever to a life of solitude, whether by his sovereign's will or his own social inadequacies?
He crossed to the balcony, throwing the curtains open as he went and letting in the meager flood of gray light, the bleak, diluted rays of sunshine that the protective veil of shadows perpetually wreathing the City of Shade couldn't quite diminish; it wasn't quite noon but the sun was approaching its zenith, meaning that he still had a few hours to while away before the ceremony began. Already there was a great deal of activity in the sweeping courtyard leading up to the Palace Most High – the gates had been thrown wide in a gesture of welcome, but the guard had been doubled to keep the common folk from gaining access to the palace. The grounds, though, appeared to have been opened to the public; bards were playing their instruments, attracting small groups of meandering Shadovar, and though the music was joyful it fell just short of reaching the forlorn doppelganger. The sound of harp strings only made him miss Zerena – with a start he realized he couldn't recall her lovely, cherubic face as clearly as he expected he might, and the thought was more disturbing than perhaps anything else that had happened in the last day or two.
Though the thought of allowing the general public to see him in his relatively-new shade body still made him feel anxious, he knew there was nothing for it – in a matter of hours he would be presented for all the enclave to see, and there would be no hiding from the inquisitive eyes that Curiously, knowing that the fanfare was inevitable did not instill within Phendrana the urge to hide – rather he desired to go and mingle among the people sooner rather than later, hoping that in seeking their acceptance he might find some measure of solace from his own fears and self-doubt. Above all else he wanted to feel as though he belonged – after all, he had sacrificed everything just to reach this point in his life. Wasn't he owed that, at least?
"Lux," he murmured, knowing that wherever the boy was, he would hear the sound of his name upon the doppelganger's lips.
There was a beat of silence and then, predictably, the sound of the boy's voice from a few feet behind him. "Here."
"I'm leaving now. I think I will go to the palace and enjoy the festivities for a time." Almost as an afterthought, for he was unwilling to admit just how alone he truly was, Phendrana added, "Would you like to accompany me?"
"Regrettably I must decline," Lux told him politely. "There is your armor to mend, and your house to keep. In my efforts to allow you some rest I seem to have fallen behind on my duties." A protest struck Phendrana's tongue, but Lux overrode him. "Do not apologize. Your well being is my first priority."
"Then I will leave you to them," Phendrana acquiesced quietly, but the boy's innocent, inquisitive voice reached out and gave him pause yet again.
"Will you be… quite safe, on your own? I do not presume to know what you have seen, if you have seen anything at all, but I confess… I worry for you, Phendrana."
The boy's concern was touching, and Phendrana supposed he was being rash and irresponsible in going out on his own, but it wasn't enough to sway him from his course. "I'm sure I have nothing to fear," Phendrana assured the boy. "And you will know where to find me should something transpire while I am gone."
"Yes," Lux agreed reluctantly, and with that Phendrana let his mind lead him in the direction of the merrymaking as he stepped into the Shadow Realm.
As it turned out, the merriment unfolding in the sweeping palace courtyard made Phendrana feel the most at home he had felt since forsaking the World Below.
There was music everywhere; just inside the gates a trio of musicians with string instruments had drawn a crowd, and a small group of jubilant commoners had taken to dancing upon the masterfully-crafted lane leading up to the palace doors. Passerby laughed aloud and those gathered around clapped and stomped their feet in time to the beat and hooted in voices thick with revelry. He chose not to linger, drawn in by a trilling soprano voice lilting further around to the west side of the gardens, and there he found a little girl-child who looked to be about Lux's age recounting the most popular tales of Thultanthar's storied history for a growing crowd of history enthusiasts. Phendrana listened long enough to hear her rhyming retelling of the enclave's grand return to the Material Plane after its seventeen-century sojourn, and with his mind buzzing with awe he moved along again.
Merchants from the Lower District had packed up their wares and moved them into temporary kiosks, utilizing the rare opportunity within the palace gates to sell all manner of merchandise to a more auspicious clientele; there were alchemists with potions and salves every color of the rainbow simmering promisingly upon their carts and midlevel metalworkers waving pieces of meager steel and tailors presenting homespun fabrics in the traditional Netherese fashion and all manner of trinkets wrought of copper and silver and gold. Before Phendrana had even wandered fifty feet he had sneezed himself silly smelling a poultice its vendor claimed would restore lost memories, nearly been cleft in two by a boastful young arms dealer brazenly brandishing a two-handed greatsword, and politely declined a portly housewife-type who insisted that she had a cloak of handspun silver set with emeralds that would perfectly complement his eyes. He was feeling guilty for being so short and unyielding with Lux, though, and did purchase his curious little friend a finely-crafted leather belt with a handsome silver clasp to wear with his housekeeping uniform – Lux had a most peculiar fascination for belts.
Most of all, Phendrana hadn't expected to feel as uplifted as he undeniably did as he wended his way through the menagerie of vendors and musicians – he had anticipated feeling just as isolated here as he did in almost every other situation, simply because he was both set above and undeniably different than anyone else that dwelt within the City of Shade. But somehow the people seemed to know him, despite the fact that he had yet to make a single public appearance – and strangely enough, even though he was both a shade and a non-Shadovar, they still overwhelmed him with their kindness and hospitality. He found himself gaining confidence with every step, smiling though he knew not the names of those around him, laughing with them as they indulged him with their tales and sharing in the joy they seemed to feel for the grand wedding ceremony that was only days away.
How unexpected it was, that the prejudice the Princes of Shade seemed to reserve for all foreign races was not shared by their subjects!
Phendrana whiled away a few hours in the company of the denizens of the Lower District, feasting his eyes upon the splendor of the kingdom he had glimpsed but couldn't claim he had really seen, until lost in his own private musings he heard an unfamiliar voice intrude unbidden into his thoughts.
A private message for you, from your prince.
He stopped dead in his tracks but did not dare look around. Was it a trick? Had someone really sought him out solely for this purpose? The urge to glance around, to set eyes upon his would-be messenger, was so strong that he almost succumbed to it at once, but somehow he was able to cling to his last real shred of good sense and keep his eyes focused ahead. What if this was a test? Clearly the High Prince didn't want him fraternizing with his youngest son in a personal manner… If he displayed any interest in such a liaison, would Brennus be in danger? Would he? He allowed his mental influence to permeate the air, seeking out that silent voice that had whispered into his mind, but it seemed hesitant and withdrawn – whoever he was, he was not keen on making himself known.
Apologies, the voice murmured after a moment's contemplation. There are so many eyes and ears here, I thought it best not to approach you publicly. Is there somewhere we might speak privately?
Phendrana took another step, making it seem as though he was intent upon the nearest kiosk when in reality his eyes saw nothing that was laid out before him. Who has asked you to deliver this message to me?
Prince Brennus, of course – who else? He has been biding his time, awaiting an opportunity to speak with you in whatever way presented itself.
And who are you, to whom Prince Brennus would entrust such a delicate and crucial task? Phendrana knew that his tone was thick with skepticism and suspicion, but he made no effort to disguise the way he felt about being approached in such a manner. There had been no sign of a possible reconciliation with Brennus, whom Phendrana had only seen once since their ill-fated return from Castle Tethyr – what proof did he have that this messenger was here on some legitimate business, and not as part of some other sinister agenda?
A friend to both you and your prince, and for now I will say no more. You know as well as I do that conversing this way is not wise – the Most High is privy to many things that occur here, and is well attuned to the familiar patterns of your thoughts. Would you compromise your prince this way, knowing that he means you no harm?
The doppelganger's mind buzzed, knowing that the warning rang with truth but unable to dismiss this as a harmless meeting without further consideration. There was no disputing the fact that Most High Telamont knew much – things that occurred beneath his notice had a tricky way of reaching his attention, though Phendrana couldn't begin to explain just how - , and he had no doubt that the High Prince was on higher alert today than usual with a barely-thwarted assassination attempt not twenty four hours past fresh in his mind. And if Brennus truly wished to deliver a message to Phendrana – a hurried word to be strong, or some cryptic indicator that his previous silence and neglect was all for show – didn't Phendrana want to hear it?
His love for Brennus outweighed his hatred for the man just enough that the decision was made for him. Have you some place in mind where we might talk?
A soft chuckle answered him first, followed closely by a reply that widened his eyes and made his mouth go abruptly dry. You misunderstand me – I am not here to speak for the prince. I am here to lead you to him, that you might hear his testimony for yourself. He was adamant that no other method of delivery would suffice in this instance.
Desperation gripped Phendrana so suddenly and tightly that his breath became difficult to come by, and it was all he could do to keep from physically reacting to this revelation. He was going to see Brennus – to speak with him. An unwanted flicker of hope flared somewhere deep within his chest, in a place that he had forgotten existed; it was where his heart had once been, he realized with a start, and try as he might to suppress it there was no dismissing that hint of desire. Suddenly he was convinced that he would give anything for an opportunity such as this.
And he is waiting for me? Phendrana was not at all surprised by the feebleness of his own voice.
At this very moment, was the sure, immediate reply.
The doppelganger sucked in a shaky, ragged breath. Then take me to him at once.
Follow me. Phendrana lifted his gaze at last and combed his surroundings as carefully as possible, his eyes falling upon a cloaked and hooded figure that had been shadowing him from about twenty feet behind; he knew this was his quarry at once, for the moment his eyes fell upon the man he vanished in a shower of shadow particles that suggested he had slipped into the Plane of Shadow. Phendrana hastened to follow after him, committed now to facing Brennus and hearing what he had to say no matter what that might entail.
Once he had set foot in the Shadow Realm he quickened his pace, for there was no one around now to watch his comings and goings and thus no reason to keep up any pretenses; Phendrana hurried along in Brennus's messenger's wake, focusing on the hem of his quarry's trailing cloak as it rippled through the gloom. He wanted to hail the man leading him forward for with every passing moment he was in danger of tripping over his own feet at such a pace, but every time he opened his mouth the words wouldn't come – Brennus! He was going to speak to Brennus! At last there would be an explanation, a reason for all the hardships, perhaps even reconciliation between them in some form. The fleeting flicker of hope bloomed in his chest, transformed into reluctant optimism.
The moment the messenger stepped back into the Material Plane Phendrana hesitated, certain that if his heart still beat within his chest it would be drumming almost painfully against his ribs now. His thirst for answers, for absolution, outweighed his anxiety. He returned to the world that he knew.
In the following instant, when he first set foot upon the grand observation balcony that was the highest standing point on the exterior of the Palace Most High, he knew he had been deceived. He could only watch helplessly as the man who had lured him so easily away to the place of his choosing like a sheep to slaughter dropped his hood and turned back to face him, revealing himself as the drow with the chilling white eyes whom Phendrana had seen in his waking nightmares only hours before.
You are a truly pathetic creature, completely ruled by your emotions, sneered the drow in his mind, infiltrating Phendrana's thoughts so easily that the doppelganger felt somehow violated. Has no one ever bothered to tell you the dangers of wearing your feelings on your sleeve in the sickeningly obvious manner which you do? Your desires were all too easy to pluck from your mind – they consume your every thought.
Phendrana couldn't help feeling nauseous at those words. And here he had been so convinced that he was doing an admirable job reining in the emotions he was most ashamed of – the loss, the yearning, the anger he felt toward Brennus and the loathing he felt for himself. And so you read all of these things from my surface thoughts and lured me away. I suppose you think yourself quite clever.
It was wise to hold this conversation completely in their minds, he told himself. It was easier to focus on the terrible, all-consuming potential that had been lurking quietly, barely-contained, within the darkest recesses of his mind since the first moment he had succumbed to the shadow. He would need all of that slumbering power now, of that he was certain.
The drow he faced shrugged noncommittally. I can take no pride in this victory – not when it will be gained so easily. There is no pride in defeating an enemy whose mental fallacies make him an unworthy opponent.
You presume much, was all Phendrana could bring himself to say, for his adversary's words were stoking the fires of his rage and he remembered well all he had been capable of the last time he had lost a grip on his temper.
I saw what you did to Mourn, said the drow, nonplussed, and I must say that I was not impressed. You caught my associate off his guard. You have no hope of doing the same to me.
I grow weary of your boasts, Phendrana pointed out. Tell me why you have gone to such great pains to single me out. What am I to you?
The drow paced slowly the width of the balcony from railing to the wall beneath the severely-sloping archway, never taking his eyes off Phendrana; the doppelganger marked his every step, quietly seething at how easily he had allowed himself to be lured into this trap. Truthfully you are nothing to me, and I would not bother with you had I not been charged with doing so. But the priestess whom I currently find myself serving supposedly takes her orders directly from the Spider Queen, so I have little choice but to obey. Whomever she names her adversaries, we then take the necessary steps to eliminate – she named you, and tasked me with disposing of you.
But why? I am associated with no drow.
Aren't you? corrected his adversary enigmatically, and Phendrana found himself backpedaling.
Ah, thought the mindmaster in a stroke of sudden understanding. This is about Lim Tal'eyve, isn't it? He is your real target, but you are finding it more difficult than you had first thought to get rid of him so you are now clearing a path to him. I see. If you were as adept at reading my thoughts as you would have me believe, however, you would see that he is no friend of mine.
The drow psionist actually rolled his eyes. Of course I can see that, but that doesn't keep you from getting in the way – and trust me when I say that you, and several of you other mindless zealots who serve Lord Shadow, are already irrevocably in the Spider Queen's path. So long as those whom the Spider Queen targets live, the way to Lim is not clear.
And why does your goddess want Lim so badly? Phendrana suspected he already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from the mouth of one of Lolth's agents if he could – the High Prince would be thankful for his diligence, he knew.
Surely even you can see that there can be no repentance for Lim's transgressions – not just against our goddess, but against our entire race as well. She will not suffer him to live no matter where he chooses to hide, or how much power he obtains. Not even your Lord Shadow can protect him from the Spider Queen.
Phendrana felt the corner of his mouth twitch upward into an unwilling half-smile. I am not certain you know the High Prince so well, if you think that to be true.
And I am of the opinion that you and the rest of your disgusting shadow-dwelling race has hidden behind that feeble wizard for long enough, the drow fired back coldly, and with that he ceased his pacing and turned fully to face Phendrana. I grow bored of conversing with you now, doppelganger. Let me do what I came here to do so that I can leave your reeking city and be on my way.
You are welcome to try, Phendrana invited, his tone one of utmost superiority, and squaring his shoulders he clung to the razor edge of his hard-sublimated anger as surely as a warrior clinging to any blade.
Theirs was a battle of no fanfare; no trumpets sounded to herald a great charge, no banners were raised, no voices cried out and there was no clashing of steel against steel. There was nothing to see, no outward sign that the situation had become one of life or death for both of them, but the struggle was as real as any war that had ever been waged. Phendrana had known a handful of bard-worthy psionists in his day but of the curious psionist family of the drow house Oblodra he knew almost nothing; he had expected a flashing of his opponent's eyes, a telltale symbol that a telekinetic attack of some kind was about to be launched, but the drow's face remained completely impassive. So great was the force of the blow that Phendrana swore for half a second that he could actually see the fabric of the Material Plane ripple as reality distorted around him, and then it was all he could do to thrust out his own pent up mental force just to shield himself from the power lancing his way.
The drow's telekinetic attack impacted his mind with jarring force, scattering his thoughts, and Phendrana gritted his teeth and pushed back with all the force he could muster. He couldn't see their energies jockeying for purchase but he could envision well enough what such a battle might look like: two unrelated beams of light, twisting and distorting around one another as they sought weak chinks in the opposite force's defenses. His own mental defenses he could see well enough, for he had spent enough time brooding within his own cavernous subconscious to know what it looked like to him by now – that wide open expanse with its limitless ceiling and its fathomless floor, all surfaces obscured by a ever-present but somehow calming silver mist. Except as he watched the chilling beam of white light that was the attack force of his adversary began infiltrating the miniscule crevices his mind had left unguarded, filtering in like beams of concentrated sunlight through gaps in roiling storm clouds –
Phendrana growled and let the drow's words of assumed superiority wash over him, flooding his memory with the snide remarks and allowing the anger he felt to tint his vision red with rage; as it had the first time his heightened state of emotion focused his telekinetic energy into a more defined point, redirecting and intensifying his attack. The energy emanating from him pulsed away from his form like a swelling wave, surging against the energy of his enemy and forcing it back, out of his mind so that he could think clearly again –
Your tactics are elementary, the drow taunted him lazily. I find myself disappointed with your efforts.
And then the blinding white beam of energy tore through his own with the ease of a whip lashing skin from the bone; the surprise Phendrana felt warred with his anger and broke his concentration, destroying his focal point and scattering his thoughts again. Those pinpricks of white light razed through the cracks in his mental defenses and suddenly his subconscious mind was exploding with fireworks.
No, thought Phendrana blankly, the denial spoken with perhaps the very last shred of his sanity. No.
And then he was on his knees, all that remained of his mental discipline rounding itself into the shape of a shield beneath the crippling weight of his adversary's onslaught, and his mind was on fire.
Succumb, doppelganger, said the drow in a bored voice. You are wasting my time with your struggles. You only prolong your own death.
Phendrana's agony was such that he was incapable of responding; his eyes were wide open but he couldn't see, his mind was being slowly but mercilessly crushed and at any moment he would simply cease to be. His desire to fight back wavered then as he considered giving up – the pain! – but dimly he perceived other voices and they served to give him pause.
DON'T! The danger if your mind isn't strong enough –
I am strong enough for this.
The risk involved! If the High Prince catches wind of this –
I won't let him die! The declaration pierced right through Phendrana as though he had been felled with a weapon, spearing him to the ground and leaving him breathless; he trembled with the effort of keeping the psionist's energies from crushing his mind into senselessness, but in the next moment his burden was much lessened as suddenly another presence wafted through his subconscious. It was formless and intangible, the very embodiment of a shadow – one of the Princes of Shade? – and it cloaked his mind in blessed blackness and all but negated the piercing beams of harsh white light.
Push! the second voice commanded him, so familiar in so many ways yet Phendrana couldn't comprehend anything other than the crippling agony he experienced. For the love of all that is holy, Phendrana, PUSH!
Phendrana responded to the urgency in that voice and heaved with all that remained of his mental energy, one last defensive telekinetic push that forced the drow's now-panicked presence from his subconscious; the moment that intrusion had been truly expelled Phendrana became aware of his own body again, and of the fact that someone was dragging him backward the length of the smooth marble balcony. His eyes cracked open a fraction, just enough for him to catch a bleary glimpse of the hooded drow writhing at the feet of a shade in flowing robes –
He was dragged around a corner and into the shade of the yawning entryway before he could glimpse anything more, and the hands that had been clutching him with vice-like force beneath his arms were suddenly hauling him roughly to his feet. Phendrana opened his mouth dully, his head lolling, a plea on his lips, but his half-formed requests were steadfastly ignored.
"Are you alright?" hissed the first voice, and though his vision had yet to clear completely Phendrana recognized the severe expression and clinical silver eyes of Third Prince Lamorak, holding him at eye level as though he weighed mere ounces.
Phendrana was astounded at how quickly his mind was recovering from a mental assault that should at the very least have left him comatose, but then he remembered the impossibly fast regenerative abilities that the shadow provided and thought he understood well enough his miraculous recovery. "What happened? The drow – "
Lamorak's face swam into clearer focus then, and Phendrana took note of the trace of desperation in the set of the prince's pinched brow. "He has been dealt with."
"But who - ?" Though Phendrana felt almost normal already, he still couldn't come to grips with what had just transpired.
"I eliminated him, of course."
Phendrana's sense of equilibrium had returned; the moment he was standing up straight Lamorak released him and put a pace or two between them for good measure. The prince's movements were restless in a way that made Phendrana feel certain he was being lied to, and he voiced his opinion almost at once. "No you didn't. You dragged me away from there, but it wasn't your presence I felt driving the drow out of my mind – it was someone else's."
"You were incoherent at the time," Lamorak snapped back defensively, and the mindmaster knew the prince's sudden hostility was a sign that his assumptions were closer to the truth than Lamorak was comfortable with. "The drow had almost broken your mind when I came upon you – I am not surprised to hear that you hallucinated such a thing."
"What happened was not a figment of my imagination," Phendrana insisted stubbornly, and to prove his own point he turned on his heel and strode out of the shadowy awning and back onto the balcony; Lamorak hurried along in his wake, protesting vehemently all the while, but Phendrana's sense of impending victory was unceremoniously dashed when he rounded the corner to find nothing but the drow's lifeless body awaiting him. He rounded on Lamorak at once, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Explain this."
The Determinist Prime crossed his arms adamantly over his chest. "I have already answered your inquiries, though you seem content to question me further. What more do you require?"
"There was someone else here!" Phendrana roared, refusing in his sudden fit of unexplainable certainty to back down from this confrontation, but his temper was stolen the moment he distinguished the look of sheer desperation in the prince's eyes
"Please," murmured Lamorak in a low, feverish voice. "I advise you to exercise discretion on this matter."
"Why should I?" Phendrana hissed, all of his unused anger bubbling to the surface again, but it withered when Lamorak ran one shaking hand down his suddenly haggard face.
"Because there is far more riding on this than you realize." Lamorak's eyes were dull with regret but somehow resolute when he added, "Don't you trust me, Phendrana?"
The words struck the doppelganger like a blow to the gut, sending all of the air rushing from his lungs with an audible exhale; it reminded him of a time too clear in his memory, a time when on the cusp of pleasure Brennus had whispered similar words. The memory raked through his brain as surely as a serrated blade and for a moment he despaired silently for all he had lost – but the ability to trust was something he yet retained.
"I suppose on this matter I have no choice but to do so," he responded reluctantly, and Lamorak breathed a soft yet audible sigh of obvious relief.
"We must go quickly," Lamorak told him briskly. "The ceremony will begin soon, and as you are the focal point of this occasion it would displease the High Prince very much if you were tardy. We will report to him afterward that another of your visions has come to pass – I daresay the occurrence will be of great interest to him."
Phendrana recalled the other events he had seen and felt suddenly breathless with fear. "Have the others gathered?"
"I know not," the Determinist Prime confessed sheepishly. "I came to call upon you perhaps a half hour ago to find that you had departed the villa already; Lux told me where I might find you, and I guessed what might happen if you were left to wander on your own. I… had a change of heart, about aiding you in these matters."
A wash of guilt chilled Phendrana's insides and he felt ashamed of his rash behavior. Lamorak had made it clear not half a day ago that he didn't want to be mixed up in Aglarel and Aveil's intensifying private war against Lim Tal'eyve, knowing that if the High Prince caught wind of their affairs his displeasure was likely to be sudden and severe on them all; Phendrana had conceded that most willingly and resolved not to involve Lamorak if he could help it, and now the Third Prince had become wrapped up in those dealings anyway – all on account of Phendrana's own carelessness. Not to mention that Lamorak seemed to have involved some unknown third party as well… but he was supposed to be pretending he knew nothing about that. He still wished that he could spare Lamorak the disapproval of the Most High – he was certain that was what awaited them all at the end of the road they had chosen to walk – but it seemed Lamorak had chosen otherwise now.
"I am truly sorry," Phendrana told him at length. "I never meant for you to become involved."
If Lamorak was displeased at his unwilling involvement, he did not show it. "Did the drow mention Lim at all before he attacked you?"
Phendrana shook his head, wishing he had better news to share.
The Third Prince squared his shoulders, seeming unfazed. "Then we must hope the next would-be assassin who appears in our midst is a little freer with his tongue."
"Or that we are able to loosen it for him," Phendrana added darkly, and as they spirited into the Shadow Realm he thought he heard Lamorak snicker.
Their sojourn to the Plane of Shadow was short; they materialized only a few seconds later in a blessedly quiet, little-used wing of the palace that was reserved for formal public occasions such as these. Mattick, Vattick, and Melegaunt were the only ones present when they arrived, but Lamorak assured Phendrana that they had a little time yet and so the doppelganger focused on not worrying himself too much – after all, the High Prince would be expecting him to be excited for the great honors he was about to receive, and would likely become suspicious if Phendrana appeared anything but jubilant. Lamorak made to join his younger brothers right away but the doppelganger's hand clasped him at the elbow, keeping him in place and pitching his voice low enough that the others wouldn't hear. "What of Aglarel and Aveil? Have you seen them?"
The expression of puzzlement Lamorak gave him was disheartening, to say the least. "Did Aglarel not command Aveil to monitor your movements today? Where has she been?"
"I confess," Phendrana murmured back gravely, "that I have neither seen nor heard from her today. You don't suppose that something has happened to them, do you?"
Lamorak was shaking his head, but his answer was something less than Phendrana had been hoping for. "I wish I could tell you that I understand Aglarel's movements, but nothing could be further from the truth. He guards his affairs with more secrecy than any of my other kin and discusses his dealings with no one – even Escanor does not question him. The High Prince gave Aglarel license to move about freely hundreds of years ago, before the High Prince had fathered any sons after him – the reason has never been made known to us, and we know better than to ask. As for Aveil… Well, I won't pretend that I understand the camaraderie that she and Aglarel seem to enjoy lately, but I do not think you will see one without the other very often from this point forward. It is obvious that she entertains his trust – to an extent, at least – and does his bidding; I can only assume that the High Prince had a hand in cultivating such a partnership, though for what reason I cannot begin to guess."
"You do not think that they…?" Phendrana began in a telling tone, and Lamorak actually scoffed.
"Aveil wouldn't dare," he hissed stiffly, "and even if she did, Aglarel would be quick with his rebuff." A little smile played across his lips for a moment then, presumably as he amused himself with some private joke, before he added, "We have long thought Aglarel was born without the heart he would have possessed prior to allowing the shadow to take him, and he seems to lack the desires that bring lesser men to folly."
Phendrana's eyes flitted over Lamorak's shoulder to the congregation they stood apart from, just in time to see Twelfth Prince Brennus shadow walk into their midst; though Mattick and Vattick hailed him in their customary friendly manner the youngest prince barely returned their greeting and certainly did not offer them even a fraction of their exuberance. Perhaps he sensed the doppelganger's eyes upon him, for in the next moment his gaze snapped up and lingered upon Phendrana's face for the most fleeting fraction of an instant; his eyes were searching, it seemed to Phendrana, but his face was perfectly unreadable. He glanced away without hesitation, engaging Melegaunt in soft conversation, and Phendrana did not allow himself to dwell upon the loremaster's unexpected interest.
"I suspect it's fortunate that he finds himself without such things," Phendrana replied at last, "else Aveil attempt to seduce him and lead him to sure ruin."
"Indeed," Lamorak chuckled indulgently, and gently he pulled his arm free of Phendrana's slackening grip and led the way toward the rest of their group.
Phendrana accepted the spattering of congratulations that came his way graciously, and though he allowed himself to be drawn into conversation easily enough he was careful not to look Brennus's way again or speak to him directly. He was curious and suspicious now, certainly, but not enough to put words to his musings.
The hour of Phendrana's christening was nearly upon them when Mattick broke off mid-sentence, a puzzled expression upon his face and his eyes fixed to a point over Phendrana's left shoulder, and said, "Why have you not brought the High Prince with you? The moment of the ceremony is now upon us!"
"You said you would only be a moment!" Vattick agreed, vexed. "The entire city is waiting!"
Phendrana turned to find Fourth Prince Aglarel standing perhaps ten paces away, and it was clear by his uncharacteristically vacant expression that the twins' words had caught him off guard. He froze where he stood, every muscle in his body suddenly taut with tension, and whispered, "Explain."
Vattick had set his hands upon his hips. "What do you mean, explain?! You were here – do you not recall? You were standing here talking with us when the High Prince arrived and requested an audience with you before the ceremony began. You told us you wouldn't be long, and the Most High agreed! You went along with him just ten minutes ago."
The silence that followed the Ninth Prince's recounting of events was somehow deafening. When Aglarel managed to recover his voice, even his hoarse murmur seemed unbearably loud to Phendrana's ears. "I do not recall," he told them, "as I did no such thing."
"What are you about?" Mattick demanded angrily. "You said – "
"I have come just now straight from the Assassin's Guild," Aglarel confessed. "I have been there all day, and I am seeing you now for the very first time."
"But if that is true," Vattick wondered aloud, at a loss, "then who was here before you?"
Aglarel's eyes flitted in Phendrana's direction but did not linger, for in the next moment his body had dissolved into a puff of shadow particles as he passed into the Shadow Realm. There was no mistaking the dawning realization in his eyes.
Nor was there any mistaking the undiluted fear Phendrana glimpsed there, fear so acute that it served to keep the doppelganger rooted helplessly where he stood.
"Time grows short," Aglarel insisted, his eyes firmly rooted upon the floor as he ambled toward the world window. "The people are waiting, Holy Father."
At his side the High Prince smiled indulgently and lifted one frail-looking hand to clap his favored son upon one shoulder companionably. "Waiting, always waiting," he answered broodingly, shaking his head a little in a melancholy fashion. "We give the people what they want and they continue grasping, waiting for the next thing we would bestow upon them. The people will keep for a moment longer – there is something I wish to show you before we rejoin your brothers."
The world window was a dark pool in the center of the Most High's private audience hall, its enchanted waters still and blank as it awaited the opportunity to display an image; Aglarel's eyes flitted to its inky depths, the hint of a crease of concern appearing between his keen silver eyes. They moved toward the pool at a leisurely pace, their postures perfectly relaxed and their manners companionable enough, but there was something off about the proceedings – the High Prince slowed his tread a fraction but Aglarel mirrored him, so that they continued to walk shoulder to shoulder. The air between them was silent and somehow tense with some unspoken question.
They completed their approach, the toes of their boots only inches from the edge of the basin that housed the world window. High Prince Telamont watched Aglarel out of the corner of his eye, and after a moment's hesitation his son returned the gaze. Telamont's face split into a wide, harmonious smile.
"You know that you are a great comfort to me," the Most High told him.
Aglarel dipped his head a fraction, a proper display of thanks and obeisance, but his eyes never left his sovereign's face. "And you know that it is my supreme pleasure to serve you. The advancement of your pursuits both political and personal is all that I have ever desired."
Telamont nodded. "It is for that reason I have summoned you here. There is yet another matter I would ask for your help with – I can trust this matter to no other."
"You have only to show me," Aglarel insisted quietly, "and I will do my best to satisfy you, as always."
"Gaze into the world window, and it will be known to you."
Aglarel's eyes remained fixed upon the High Prince's face – had they narrowed a fraction? The silence in the audience chamber hardened and turned glacial. "There is nothing to see there, Holy Father. Can you not make it appear? Have you forgotten how? Or have you never known in the first place?"
The High Prince's face twisted into a scowl and his right arm twitched forward, but Aglarel had been waiting for this to happen and so he was well enough prepared; his left hand darted out and knocked his sovereign's arm out wide, so that the blade in Telamont's hand tore through his trailing cloak but didn't find purchase in his flesh. Aglarel threw out his right arm behind him as he turned, simultaneously wrestling out of his cloak and tangling the fabric around the weapon so that Telamont couldn't pull it free, and by the time he had completed his spin the sword had come free of Telamont's hand. Aglarel curled his free right hand into a fist and struck a blow to Telamont's midsection that sent him reeling –
Telamont flung one hand out in Aglarel's direction and loosed an explosion of sunlight so harsh that for a moment Aglarel could see nothing but an endless void of golden sunshine. When his vision cleared the High Prince appeared just as he had before – and no worse for the exposure, further proof that he was not as he seemed – but Aglarel was similarly unharmed.
The High Prince stumbled back a step, his eyes wide with fear now. "What manner of creature are you?!"
"I might ask you the same question," Aglarel cackled, stalking back in and groping within the folds of his shroud for a weapon.
Telamont managed to tear the serrated short sword free of the cloak at last and swiped desperately, catching Aglarel momentarily off his guard; the cruel edge of the blade tore through the right side of the Fourth Prince's shroud but if he was at all injured by the stroke he didn't show it. The space around Aglarel's left hand distorted for a moment and then an ornate black staff set with a faintly-glowing azure stone appeared, and tightening his grip around it he held the scepter aloft –
A shadowy hand clamped down tight upon Telamont's shoulder and dragged him backward, and when Telamont's struggles intensified an elbow cracked down upon the back of his head and left him reeling; he overbalanced and fell, splaying helplessly upon the ground and brandishing the crude sword above him in a weak display of defense. Through bleary eyes he watched as the sword was ripped from his grasp, and when he batted his arms to keep his new assailant at bay yet another fist crunched into his face again and again until he at last lay still. For a moment it seemed to him that there were two Aglarels standing over him, one bearing down upon him with his own sword in hand and the other he had battled who still bore the glimmering black scepter, and then the one holding the staff transformed into a petite black-haired sorceress with eyes of stunning violet.
Aglarel growled, a feral, animalistic sound that gave the prone Telamont chills of pure dread, and in a sudden fit of inexplicable rage he stabbed the short sword down and speared Telamont through the shoulder. The High Prince shrieked aloud, his cry reverberating in their ears, and his attempt to drag himself off the floor failed miserably when he found that the sword now kept him pinned to the cold marble.
A silver knife appeared in Aglarel's hand and he descended with murderous wrath in his eyes, but the sorceress flung her arms around his waist and tugged him back with all her might. "No!" she screamed, her fingers raking the air as she attempted to pry the knife out of his grasp. "You mustn't kill him!"
The rage had completely overtaken Aglarel; he lashed out with one arm and threw her off of him, and when her boots skidded upon the glossy black marble she fell to the ground. "Why?!" he roared, his eyes flashing with silver fire, his ceremonial fangs glinting like an animal moving in for the kill. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't gut this disgusting creature for having the sheer audacity to impersonate the High Prince – for trying to kill you!"
Aveil leapt back to her feet with a lurch, though her movements now were slower and more sluggish; she clung to his arm, keeping the killing stroke from falling by mere inches. "We need him!" she hissed desperately. "The one who tried to kill the Most High escaped – we must keep this one alive in our custody! There can be no doubt that he knows what the Spider Queen has in store for Thultanthar – what if he knows something of Lim Tal'eyve? Of his purpose here, and his intentions? You cannot deny his usefulness to us!"
Aglarel stood poised and ready to deliver the blow but the conviction and resolution had flown from his eyes; he glared down at the impersonator, his indecision plain upon his face but hatred still blazing hotly in his eyes –
"Aglarel!" Aveil was begging him now, desperate. "Listen to me! If you kill him, you put us all at risk!"
At last the Fourth Prince straightened out of his killer's crouch but didn't stow his dagger away; Aveil relaxed back, clinging to her staff with both hands for support for the right side of her robes was stained with a substantial amount of blood. Aglarel cast a glance her way, appraising, his anger warring with his concern.
"Go and attend the ceremony," he told her at length. "Someone there will attend your wound. Tell the High Prince what has happened here – tell him that Phendrana's visions are still coming to pass. Tell him that Phendrana is a target of theirs, and you. Tell him everything. This cannot go on."
"And when he asks what has become of you?" Aveil's breathing was slight.
The Fourth Prince cast yet another hateful glare down at their newest would-be assassin, whose guise of the High Prince was at last beginning to fade into the visage of a drow with a long ponytail and one eye. "Tell him that I will begin interrogating our prisoner right away, and that I will report to him the moment I have learned anything of value."
There was something in Aglarel's eyes, some hint of a complete lack of mercy or a disregard for all life, that made Zek Vandree wish the prince had just killed him outright and been done with it.