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.The illithids reached the intersection a moment later.Galaeron was so frightened he barely noticed the icy numbness creeping up the hand that held Vala's sword, but the creatures turned away and rushed after Lord Imesfor.As Galaeron listened to the procession hiss past, he began to feel steadily sicker and more revolted.He kept waiting for Melegaunt to spring his trap, to step from behind the shadowy screen and spray the horrid creatures with some immensely powerful spell that would slay them all instantly.Melegaunt remained silent and motionless, save that he reached over to take Vala's sword when he noticed how white Galaeron's hand was growing.Finally, Galaeron's shock gave way to the realization that the wizard had no intention of ambushing the illithids, that he had simply been using Lord Imesfor as a decoy.He dumped Vala's limp form onto the shadow-misted ground, then drew his own sword and started past Melegaunt.The wizard planted a hand in the middle of Galaeron's chest, stopping him short."Pick her up.You'll attract a shadator."Galaeron shook his head."I see how it is with you humans." He pressed the edge of his blade to Melegaunt's throat."Save yourselves and sacrifice us!""You see less than I thought." Melegaunt wrapped his free hand around Galaeron's sword.Such were the wizard'sprotective enchantments that even its magic blade did not cut him."Lord Imesfor will survive, so long as he does what I told him to do.""You can't know that.""Can't I?" He pushed Galaeron's sword away "Even if I could not, would Lord Imesfor hesitate to use you as a decoy? Would you want him to, if it meant saving Evereska?"Galaeron lowered his sword."You should have warned him.""Would he have trusted me?" Melegaunt returned Vala's sword to its scabbard, then picked her up himself."Whatever you think, we are the ones who must reach our destination.Any help Imesfor finds in Waterdeep—or even in Evermeet— will do no more to stop the phaerimm than Kiinyon and his tomb guards.You, at least, have seen enough to know that is true."* * * * *It was one those rare moments that were growing ever rarer, when Khelben "Blackstaff" Arunsun was both idle enough to join his lady Laeral for her highsun "nap" and relaxed enough to enjoy it—when his troubles were far from mind and no worldly problems weighed on his shoulders, and so he was most decidedly unhappy to hear the boots of an apprentice pounding up the stairs."Master Blackstaff!" It was young Ransford, the most excitable of the novices and—at that moment, at least—the most reckless."Lady Silverhand!""Ouch." Laeral turned her head and raised a dreamy green eye toward Khelben."Gently, my dear."Khelben looked down and saw that the knuckles of his hands—the hands that had, until two seconds ago, been gently kneading Laeral's shoulders—had gone white.He forced them open, then forced out a calming breath, then forced his voice to remain calm."Sorry, love.""Awake, my lord!" Ransford's cry grew more urgent as drew nearer."My lady, awake!"Listening to crunch of his own grinding teeth, Khelben swung his knee over Laeral's back and placed both feet heavily on the floor."If this is about three-legged frogs again, IT! have that lad's tongue for a potion of ventriloquism."He pulled on his black robe, then tossed Laeral's silver shift to her.Ransford reached the landing and pounded on the door."My lord, wake—""Quiet, lad!" Khelben jerked the door open so quickly that Ransford came stumbling across the threshold all elbows and knees."Don't you know what 'nap' means?""I'm sorry, Master Blackstaff, but—" Ransford caught a flash of pale skin as Laeral slipped into her shift, then blushed and fell into a fit of stuttering."B-b-but—""What?" Khelben grabbed the boy's ear."Out with it."Th-th-there's an e-e-elf," he stammered."A-a-and an, an ill-ill-illillill.just come and see!"Ransford took Khelben by the hand and led him over to the window, but the boy was so excited that Khelben had to speak the word of transparency himself.When he did, he was so surprised he nearly began to stutter himself.In the courtyard outside, a mangled elf with no fingers was kicking and flailing at a single mind flayer, trying in grim desperation to pull one of the thing's tentacles out of a small round hole in his skull."By the Weave, Laeral!" Khelben thrust a hand toward his namesake staff and, in the same instant, felt the familiar comfort of its polished wood [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]