The Siege (14 page)

“That’s the relief army from Waterdeep!” Galaeron said. “What are you trying to hide?”

Telamont’s sleeve rose, and Galaeron sensed a wispy finger wagging in front of his nose. “You mustn’t allow your shadow self to draw your conclusions for you, elf.”

Telamont waited, and as usual Galaeron felt the weight of the question without hearing it. “I apologize, Most High. When the world-window closed, I naturally assumed you had taken control.”

“Because I wished to hide something from you.”

Galaeron nodded.

Galaeron’s skin prickled beneath Telamont’s sigh. “Not everything is my doing, elf. The fear of the Chosen’s army is to blame. The fools are sending thoughts to their loved ones, and the magic they use to carry them is interfering with that of the world-window. The image will clear in a few minutes.”

And show us what, Galaeron wondered. He felt the weight of another question but could not quite sense what the Most High wished to know.

“Your attention is elsewhere today, Galaeron,” Telamont said. “It is dangerous to let it wander. Your shadow will take advantage.”

Galaeron nodded. “We have been watching them prepare for the crossing for some time now,” he said. “I was wondering why you have still failed to send aid.”

“You were wondering what I hope to gain by failing to send aid,” Telamont corrected. “You must know your own thoughts, Galaeron, or you will never live at peace with your shadow.”

Galaeron nodded. “Very well—what do you hope to gain by not sending help?”

Telamont’s eyes brightened with approval. “Better, elf. The answer is nothing. I sent help.”

Galaeron glanced at the world-window. The picture remained a black fog, but he knew better than to insult the Most High by questioning the veracity of his words.

“The relief army’s losses will be small. They may even reach Evereska someday—though I can’t see what good they can do there. It’s you we must be concerned about, Galaeron. I do not like this preoccupation I sense. It’s dangerous.” Telamont lifted a sleeve to wave Galaeron toward his private sitting room, and together they went into the gloom. “What is it that troubles you?”

Galaeron was so astonished to hear the question

asked aloud that the answer began to spill out before he was conscious of formulating it.

“You know that Escanor has asked Vala to accompany him on the assault against the Myth Drannor phaerimm.”

“She is a fine warrior, and her darksword has power,” Telamont said. “It is a good choice.”

“I want you to keep her here.”

“Vala is not the kind to hide from death,” Telamont said. “Even were such a thing possible, she would think less of herself for it.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Galaeron said. “She can take care of herself, even in a cave full of phaerimm, but I need her here.”

“Ah, the promise.”

They reached an archway and passed through into a small corner chamber with windows of thin-sliced obsidian on two walls. Beyond the windows, the customary murk that swaddled the enclave appeared to be almost nonexistent, allowing a spectacular—if rather darkened—view of Anauroch’s sands rolling past below.

Telamont motioned Galaeron to a chair next to one of the windows and took the one opposite, then said, “The promise she made was to kill you if your shadow self takes over.”

Galaeron nodded. “I need to know she’s there to keep it.”

“No, you don’t.”

Hadrhune appeared unbidden at the Most High’s side, again running his thumbnail along the deep groove in his staff. Telamont ordered wine for himself and Galaeron, and the seneschal dug into the groove so deeply that the tip of his thumb paled to light gray.

Telamont continued, “Vala will never need to keep that promise, not while you are in my company.”

Galaeron inclined his head. “You are capable of many things, Most High, but even you cannot solve my shadow crisis for me, as you have said—”

“Many times myself.” Telamont raised a sleeve to silence him, and Galaeron saw the translucent form of a withered claw silhouetted in gray against the faint light of the obsidian windows. “But if you are going to lie, lie to me, not yourself.”

Galaeron frowned. “What are you saying?”

“You know what I am saying,” Telamont said. “At least your shadow does.”

“That I don’t want Vala to go because I’m jealous?”

Telamont remained silent.

Galaeron rose and strode across the room, nearly bumping into a small writing table before he noticed it floating in the murk. “Elves don’t get jealous.”

“Nor do they fall asleep,” Telamont replied, “or dream like humans.”

Galaeron swallowed his rising anger, then turned to face the Most High. “What if I am jealous? I still want you to keep her here.”

Telamont looked out over the passing desert. “And who wants this?”

Galaeron considered a moment and realized he was thinking only of his own needs and not Vala’s. She would feel diminished to think that he didn’t trust her—and he still didn’t want her to go.

“Does it matter?” Galaeron asked.

Telamont’s cowled head bobbed in approval. “You are beginning to understand, but I will not interfere with Escanor’s mission.” He turned away from the window and fixed Galaeron with his platinum glare. “Forget this woman. Your shadow will use your love against you, and such emotional attachments can only interfere with your studies.”

Galaeron’s head was swirling. He had, of course, been aware of his growing attraction to Vala but had never called it love, even in his mind. Elves had to know each other for years—sometimes decades—before they felt anything close to what humans described as love, and he had only known Vala for a few months. To say that he loved her … well, most elves didn’t sleep or dream, either. Galaeron felt the weight of a question and looked up to find Telamont’s gaze still fixed on him.

“Studies?” he asked, hoping to cover what was really going through his mind.

Telamont’s eyes twinkled. “Your magic studies,” he said. “You are quite a gifted innatoth. Once you are at peace with your shadow, I will begin to teach you in earnest.”

“Truly?” Even to Galaeron, the response sounded less than enthusiastic, but he kept seeing Vala in Escanor’s arms, and that was an image he never wanted to feel comfortable with. “This comes as something of a surprise. Melegaunt warned me to stop using magic altogether.”

“Melegaunt was ever the cautious one,” Telamont returned. “A fine attribute for spies … but limiting.”

Hadrhune emerged from the gloom with the wine. He served Telamont first, then crossed the room to offer Galaeron a glass of some vinegary black swill that would not have been used to pickle thracks in Evereska. Galaeron raised his hand to decline and bowed to Telamont.

“You have given me much to think about,” he said. “If I may, I should return to Villa Dusari to meditate.”

Telamont’s eyes dimmed, but he raised a sleeve and dismissed Galaeron with a wave. “If you think that best. Perhaps Hadrhune will join me in your place.”

“I would be honored, Most High.” Hadrhune glared fire at Galaeron, then spun toward the window so fast

that the goblet flew off the tray and spilled. “What a pity—I’ll have to fetch another.”

Galaeron left the sitting room with the hair prickling on his neck and his thoughts roaring like one of the sandstorms that occasionally forced the city to rise into the cold air miles above the desert. Like Melegaunt before him, the Most High clearly had plans to help Galaeron realize his full potential as a magic-user—and no hesitation about what it might cost Galaeron or those around him. Given the price he had paid merely for learning how to draw on the Shadow Weave, he was not at all eager to increase the depth of his knowledge—especially considering what Telamont had just said it would cost him. He was still enough of an elf to balk at the idea of giving up his emotions, but losing Vala was unthinkable—especially losing her to Escanor.

Galaeron arrived at Villa Dusari angry and determined. He found his companions gathered in the courtyard, sitting on cushions on the ground so they could share the evening meal with Aris, who was reclining along one side of the courtyard with his head propped on a palm as large as a saddle.

“Galaeron, what a surprise,” Vala said.

There was no real enthusiasm in her voice. She had yet to forget the sharp words he had spoken to her after the battle at the mythallar, and every time Galaeron thought to apologize, the shadow in him seemed to turn the moment into something awkward or bitter.

“Fetch yourself a plate and mug,” she said. “There’s plenty to eat.”

Instead of stepping into the shadowed colonnade to do as Vala suggested, Galaeron crossed straight to the group. Ruha glanced from him to Vala, then back again, and rose with ghostlike grace. Malik kept his seat,

watching the witch with narrow eyes. Aris nodded a welcome to the elf.

“You sit,” the witch said. “I’ll go.”

She vanished into the building. Vala reluctantly moved over to make a place for Galaeron, but he stopped at her side and remained standing, ignoring Malik and the giant altogether.

“Vala, you can’t go with Escanor tonight.”

She looked up at him with an expression of disbelief. “Who are you to tell me what I can’t do?”

An angry heat rose to Galaeron’s face. “I… I…”

Surprised to find it was a question he could not answer, he let his reply trail off. What right could he claim over her decision? He had never spoken the words of love to her, had in fact denied even to himself that he felt such a thing—until Escanor had begun to take an interest in her. Only one oath had ever passed between them.

“You made a promise to me,” he said.

“Were I you, that is not something I’d be eager to remind me of.”

Realizing he would get nowhere butting heads with a Vaasan, Galaeron took a moment to cairn himself—and to quell his shadow, which was whispering dark warnings about the sincerity of the threat implied in her words.

When he finally felt under control, he said, “Vala, I need you to stay.”

“You’ve a funny way of showing it—and I’m not just talking about what you said at the mythallar,” she said. “You’ve been treating me like some two-copper wench and everyone else like house servants. I don’t much care for it.”

The outrage Galaeron felt from his shadow quickly gave way to a colder kind of anger, something more

subtle and cunning. He found himself nodding and looking at the ground.

‘You’re right,” he heard himself say. “I owe you an apology.”

Vala cocked an eyebrow and said nothing.

“And I’m going to give it to you at the proper time,” Galaeron said. His shadow would not let him say he was sorry. He actually wanted to, but those were not the words that rose to his lips. “And in the proper place.”

Vala frowned. “Now is fine.”

Galaeron shook his head. “No, when we’re out of this cursed city.”

Vala’s jaw dropped. “You want to leave?”

“As soon as possible.”

Galaeron sat beside her. He felt a little sick inside because the words were only what his shadow knew Vala wanted to hear, but what was the harm, really? If Telamont would not do a small favor like keep Vala in the enclave, then Galaeron was ready to leave.

“We’ll start planning after dinner and be gone as soon as we can collect everything we need,” he said.

Malik rose so fast he spilled his plate. “Leave? What of your training?”

“As far as I can tell,” Vala said, “Telamont is less interested in teaching Galaeron to control his shadow self than in turning him into a tool of Shade Enclave. He’s getting worse, not better—we all see that.”

“7 have not seen that!” Malik tried to stop there, but his face contorted, and he continued, “Except, of course, that what I mean by ‘better’ is much influenced by the current needs of the One.”

“There can be no doubt of what Vala says,” Aris said. “Galaeron is turning evil.”

“And so what if he does?” Malik demanded. He turned to address Galaeron directly. “Have you forgotten

Evereska? Telamont needs the knowledge inside your head to defeat the phaerimm.”

“The need cannot be that great,” Vala countered, “or he would not have moved the enclave so far from the battlefront.”

“You can’t know that… though there is much to be said for your argument.” Malik grimaced at the curse that forced him to add this last part, then tried another tack. “Even if the need is not great, there is an implied bargain. If you desert the Shadovar, why should they defend Evereska?”

“I don’t think anything Galaeron does will influence the Shadovar one way or the other,” Aris said. He sat upright and spoke even more thoughtfully than usual. “The Shadovar serve the Shadovar in all things. They will defend Evereska because that is the best way to destroy their enemies.”

“Can no one here let a man make his arguments without spoiling them with logic and common sense?” Malik demanded. Fuming, he began to shake a leg of roasted fowl at Galaeron. “And who is this ‘we’? I am going nowhere.”

“You are,” Galaeron insisted, feeling vaguely betrayed. “Do you think Hadrhune will let you stay in this comfortable house after we’re gone? You are here only because I am.”

Malik drew himself up to his full height, which was only a little taller than a dwarf. “I have means of my own,” he said. “And even if they fail me, I have lived in gutters before, when service to the One demanded it… or when I could afford no better.”

“And you prefer that to our company?” Aris asked. “My friend, I do not understand.”

Malik sighed. “I do not prefer that at all. You are the best friends I have ever known… at least without paying.”

Face darkening, his beady eyes caught Ruha as she returned to the courtyard with a mug and plate for Galaeron. “It is what is safest The minute we are gone from this city, the hellwitch will plant a jambiya in my back.”

“Only if you are fleeing the Harp’s justice,” Ruha said from behind her veil. “But why be fearful? You are safe in Shade Enclave … unless you are planning to leave?”