Realms of Shadow a-8 Read online

  Realms of Shadow

  ( Anthologies - 8 )

  Lisa Smedman

  Jess Lebow

  Paul S. Kemp

  Troy Denning

  Jessica Beaven

  R.A.Salvatore

  Elaine Cunningham

  Philip Athans

  Murray J.D. Leeder

  Ed Greenwood

  Richard Lee Byers

  Peter Archer

  Lisa Smedman, Jess Lebow, Paul S. Kemp, Troy Denning, Jessica Beaven, R.A.Salvatore, Elaine Cunningham,Philip Athans, Murray J.D. Leeder, Ed Greenwood,Richard Lee Byers, Peter Archer

  Realms of Shadow

  Contents

  Lisa Smedman…Trial by Ordeal

  Jess Lebow…Assassin’s Shadow

  Paul S. Kemp…Too Long in the Dark

  Troy Denning…Darksword

  Jessica Beaven…Liar’s Game

  R.A.Salvatore…That Curious Sword

  Elaine Cunningham…A Little Knowledge

  Philip Athans….Astride the Wind

  Murray J.D. Leeder…The Fallen Lands

  Ed Greenwood…When Shadow Come Seeking a Throne

  Richard Lee Byers…King Shadow

  Peter Archer…The Shifting Sands

  Trial by Ordeal

  Lisa Smedman

  Netheril Year 3389 (The Year of Perdition's Flame, — 470 DR)

  Hands clasped behind his back, Andoris Derathar stared out the warded window at the drifting clouds that veiled the farmland so far below. The city was currently floating over a lush checkerboard of leaf-greens, wheat-yellows and loamy browns, but in the distance he could see a ridge of sun-bleached white that should not have been there: the low dunes of the encroaching desert.

  He had just come from the Hall of Judgment and was still wearing his robes of office: a starched and pleated black kilt that hung to the floor and a long-sleeved black shirt with a pair of scales, embroidered in gold thread, on its left breast. A gold cord was knotted around his waist. Suspended from it was a mask-a smooth circle of ivory with holes for eyes and nostrils, and a slit for the mouth. Its color matched that of Andoris's white-blond hair, which was receding on either side of a high-swept forehead. The face of the mask was as bland as Andoris's own; his beardless cheeks were smooth-unmarred by lines of age or worry.

  Turning away from the window, Andoris regarded the gem he had been holding behind his back: an enormous blood-red ruby, faceted at such odd angles that the sides of the gem seemed to turn in upon themselves. Drifting at the center of it was a ghostlike essence that twisted slightly-the soul of the man Andoris had just found guilty of murder. Two holes that might have been eyes stared mournfully out through the walls of the crystal prison.

  "Death," Andoris said, repeating the sentence he had just imposed, "without possibility of resurrection for fifty years."

  He placed the ruby in a niche on the wall beside a dozen others.

  Behind Andoris, a homunculus-a vaguely humanlike creature with green, leathery skin, enormous batlike ears, and glistening black eyes-gave a faint snort. Folding its leathery wings around itself like a cloak, it made a disdainful gesture with webbed fingers.

  Horbal was a cruel bastard, it said in a voice that was part squeak, part croak-a voice that only Andoris could hear. He killed that cat slowly-and enjoyed watching it suffer. You should have given him five hundred years, not fifty.

  Andoris stared down at the homunculus. Even standing fully upright, the creature was no taller than his knee. Created through an alchemical process with a pint of Andoris's own blood, it was in constant telepathic contact with its master. In the years since its creation, it had served as an invaluable tool in Andoris's climb up the ranks of the judiciary.

  "Fifty years is the punishment proscribed by law for the killing of a familiar," Andoris told it.

  He spoke the words aloud-something he only did when he and the homunculus were alone.

  It isn't fair! the homunculus whined. That bastard Horbal will be free in fifty years, while poor Jelal The homunculus had been reaching for the ruby, intending to give it a furious shake. Even though this wouldn't damage the gem or its contents, decorum had to be maintained. Andoris forced his will into the homunculus's mind and wrenched its arm down. Sulking, the creature huddled into itself, nursing a dislocated shoulder.

  Andoris, his mind shielded from the pain, stared down at the homunculus with a face as dispassionate as the mask that hung at his belt. With a flick of his fingers, he cast a healing spell.

  A moment later, he heard sharp raps at the door. His finger pointed in silent command, and the homunculus stiffened, then scurried under a table. It watched with large, luminous eyes as Andoris first cast an illusion spell to mask its presence, then flicked a sparkle of magical energy in the door's direction, unlocking it. "Enter."

  The door swung open, revealing Justice Vlourir, a woman with long black hair and deep frown lines across her forehead. She wore a judge's black kilt and shirt, with an ivory mask at her belt.

  "Lord High Justice Derathar," she said, "I am sorry to trouble you so soon after your sentencing, but there is a case requiring your judgment."

  A small fist thumped in irritation under the table, but went unheard.

  "What is the charge?" Andoris asked in an expressionless voice.

  "Espionage-specifically, the theft of state secrets. The arcanist Algar Ptack was, under direct commission from Lord Karsus, researching a way to reverse one of his spells. Lord Karsus hoped the reversed spell might be used to further decipher the Nether Scrolls. Ptack's research notes from that project, however, were stolen."

  Andoris nodded. Lord Karsus had confided in him, some time ago, the details of this particular research project. Ptack was trying to reverse his secret script spell, an incantation that made even magical text indecipherable to anyone who didn't know the command word that would negate the encryption. If he succeeded in reversing the spell-assuming the Nether Scrolls were ever found again-the enclave that possessed that spell would be the first to read the scrolls' secrets and would become the most powerful in all the land. The case was certainly an important one, but did that mean Andoris had to hear it?

  From under the table came a small sigh, audible only to Andoris.

  "High Justice Emilus Wentar is qualified to hear evidence in capital cases," he said.

  The frown lines on Justice Vlourir's face deepened. "He has heard the case, but he finds it impossible to reach a judgment. He says the trial invokes questions about legal procedure that only the Lord High Justice can answer- and that the testimony itself presents an insoluble puzzle."

  Visible only to Andoris, the homunculus sat up, ears erect and a gleam in its eye. A puzzle?

  As if she had heard the echoed question, Justice Vlourir continued, "There are two defendants. High Justice Wentar said deciding which is guilty is like trying to choose between a reflection and a mirror."

  What do we suppose he meant by that?

  Andoris merely inclined his head. "Where is the case being heard?"

  "In the Spiral Court. It has been adjourned temporarily, and High Justice Wentar awaits you there."

  Andoris nodded. "Inform High Justice Wentar that I'll join him at once."

  The Spiral Court had been named for its dominant feature: a flat inlay of white ivory, about two paces wide, that spiraled up the wall of the circular chamber. As voices echoed up from the floor of the deep, well-like chamber, ebony-black letters flowed up
the spiral: a transcription of the testimony being given below.

  The force of gravity had been twisted during the construction of the Spiral Court, allowing its walls to serve as floors, and these walls were crowded with the citizens of Karsus Enclave-arcanists and lay casters alike-who stood at a right angle to the floor below, affording them an excellent view of both the proceedings and the transcription that flowed past their feet.

  At the bottom of the Spiral Court, Andoris sat on an ornately carved chair of solid silver that floated a hand-span above the floor. He wore his judge's mask-but pushed up onto his head, leaving his face bare. A few paces behind him, High Justice Wentar sat in a similar chair, listening quietly as portions of the testimony given earlier were repeated, his face hidden behind his judge's mask. His body appeared young and trim and his hair was still thick and dark, thanks to age-resisting magic, but his shoulders slumped with the heaviness of decades of difficult decisions, betraying his true age.

  On the opposite side of the room, the stone floor had been marked with two intricate circles, painted with a brush made from three braided hairs from a minotaur's tail. Each maze-circle was perhaps two paces wide, and inside each stood a woman with a proud, narrow face and long red hair. One woman had pulled her hair back with a gold cord and dusted her lips and eyelids with powdered ruby and was dressed in a silver-gray gown dotted with tiny flecks of black that whorled across its surface like shifting smoke. The other wore her hair loose over her shoulders and was dressed in gray tights, a loose gray shirt, and thigh-high boots that were scuffed at the heel and knee.

  Though the two women had chosen dramatically different clothes in which to appear before the court-one looking as though she were ready for a celebration at Lord Karsus's tower, the other as if she were about to set out on an adventure-their faces were as identical as those of twins. Even their expressions were the same. Each stood rigidly, glaring haughtily out at the other through the shimmering circle of latent magic that would cause her to become lost inside the maze-circle were she to try to cross it, either bodily or with magic. The two women even expressed their tension in the same way: a narrowing of her pale green eyes and the occasional restless drumming of the fingers of her right hand against her thigh.

  One of the women, according to the testimony, was a shadow double-but so cunning was the magic that had brought it into being that it was impossible to tell which was the arcanist and which the magical construct. High Justice Wentar had already tried all of the standard tests, but none had shed any light on the question. Each of the women had a heavy aura of magical dweomer surrounding her-but it was well known that Blamira, like most arcanists, had prolonged her life span using powerful magic. Wentar had exhausted himself trying to determine precisely which spells had created this aura, and he failed. Blamira's magic was too powerful.

  He had next ordered the women stripped of all clothing and possessions and had analyzed each of these objects for any traces of nonfunctionality. Had they been created at the same time as the double, as part of Blamira's spell, that magic should have been unable to fully sustain them, once they were no longer in contact with the double. But all of the objects proved to be completely devoid of dweomer-mundane items acquired by the shadow double after its creation.

  In his final test, Wentar had teleported one of the women briefly to another plane, in the hope that the other would dissipate-something that normally happened when the magical bind between alchemist and construct was severed by such a distance. Like the other tests, it hadn't worked.

  Staring at the women now, Andoris noted that each of them moved independently of the other and appeared to be fully in control of her own actions. There were none of the usual signs of a shadow double being commanded by its creator: no hesitancy of speech, no mirroring of movement.

  The magic that was sustaining the shadow double was durable. Wentar had already spent the better part of a day hearing testimony, and the shadow double had not faded in the slightest. Its creator appeared to have cast a permanency spell upon it.

  Prom Andoris's bedchamber-where the homunculus was safely locked away-came a nervous, worried voice.

  We don't like this case, it said, wringing its hands. It reminds us of The similarities are superficial, Andoris told it. Be quiet.

  He stared expressionlessly at the arcanist who was giving testimony. Algar Ptack, a man with a high forehead and thinning blond hair that hung to his shoulders, was pacing back and forth in front of the chairs in which the two judges sat. He wore an alchemist's leather apron over his trousers and a loose white shirt. The cuffs of his sleeves were dusted with yellow, and the smell of burned sulfur clung to his clothes, suggesting he'd come straight from his laboratory to give testimony. His eyes were enormous behind clear glass lenses that floated just in front of his face. As he gave his testimony, he peered nervously at the two women held inside the magic circles.

  Every now and then he glanced to the judges, as if for encouragement, but failed to find it in Wentar's blank mask or Andoris's emotionless expression. The mantle Ptack had been ordered to wear while giving testimony- a cape of fine-spun gold-billowed out behind him as he paced, humming like the strings of a melodious harp with each word he spoke.

  "You know I can't lie-not with this thing on," Ptack groused. "I'm telling you the truth. Shiris Blamira is the thief. I'd engaged her as a consultant for my, ah… my latest research. I needed her expertise on magic that reaches into other planes and demiplanes. She guessed what my research notes contained and figured out how I'd… where I'd hidden them." He grimaced. "To think I trusted her! I'll never work with another wizard again- especially one from the Shadow Consortium."

  From the walls above came a rustle of subdued voices as Ptack's words spiraled up the ivory inlay. The crowd of spectators had been growing throughout the day, as whispers spread that a disciple of Shadow was on trial for stealing state secrets.

  Into Andoris's head came a malicious giggle: Shadow had better tread carefully! If his disciple is found guilty, Karsus may withdraw his favor.

  Andoris ignored the homunculus's tittering. "This is a j serious matter," he cautioned Ptack. "You're accusing a fellow arcanist-a member of the Shadow Consortium- of a capital offence, and yet you have provided no proof, other than your own testimony, that magical research was stolen from you late yesterday afternoon, or that it was Shiris Blamira who committed the theft."

  Ptack's eyes gleamed behind the floating lenses of his spectacles. "There was a witness," he said. "One of my servants. It saw the whole thing-but High Justice Wentar refused to hear its testimony."

  Wentar, who had been listening quietly, sat up sharply. His blank white mask hid his expression, but the tone of his voice gave away his irritation.

  "He wanted to summon an elemental!" Wentar protested. "It's too dangerous. This court doesn't have the proper magical containment to-"

  Andoris motioned his fellow judge to silence and said, "If there is a witness, its testimony must be heard."

  "If Ptack loses control of it, the elemental could kill us all!" Wentar sputtered.

  Back in Andoris's bedchamber, the homunculus rocked back and forth nervously, chewing one of its finger talons.

  What if it does get free? What if it kills someone? We could be blamed. Are we sure we want to risk "This court will hear the testimony," Andoris announced.

  Above him, the crowd began to thin as the spectators looked at one another, shook then* heads, and teleported away.

  Andoris turned to Ptack and said, "Summon your witness."

  Nodding, Ptack reached into a pocket of his trousers and pulled out a lump of wet clay. Dropping to his knees, he used it to smear thick gray lines on the floor. When he was done, he rubbed the remainder of the clay on his palms, then stepped back and curled his hands over the patterns on the floor, making digging motions as he chanted.

  After a moment, the stone at his feet began to bulge. A moment more, and the bulges took on the shape of a face. Eyes slowly turned
in Ptack's direction with a sound like boulders being dragged across hard ground, and a crack formed and ruptured into a mouth, emitting a dank, earthen smell. The floor trembled underfoot as the lips slowly began to move.

  When the words at last came they were as heavy and slow as a grindstone. "Maaasterrr."

  A ripple of relief came from the walls as those spectators who had been brave enough to remain realized the elemental had indeed successfully been held in thrall. Some of them teleported out to spread the news, and the hall gradually began to fill again. An excited buzz of voices grew as they realized what they were seeing.

  Ptack had just summoned an earth elemental-a creature that none had suspected existed within Karsus Enclave. When Lord Karsus had sheared the top off a mountain and used it as the foundation for his floating city, he must have inadvertently taken the elemental up with it, condemning the creature to an existence forever severed from the ground below. And yet the thing still lived-and was under Ptack's control. Equally amazing was the fact that the normally secretive Ptack had revealed this fact.

  Ptack concentrated on his spell, his palms pressing down with invisible force, holding the earth elemental in place.

  Tell the Lord High Justice what you saw," he commanded. "Describe the thief who stole my scrolls."

  "Humaaan. With… great… maaagic. She… waaalks… in… shaaadows."

  Andoris nodded. A shadow-walk spell would explain how the thief-if it was indeed Blamira-was able to enter Ptack's laboratory, protected as it was by numerous magical locks and wards.

  "Was it one of these two humans?" he asked, pointing simultaneously at both of the accused.

  The elemental's unblinking eyes rolled in their sockets to stare at the closest of the red-haired women. The ground under her feet bulged then subsided.

  "Thaaat… one."