Stardeep (21 page)

Kiril swung to face Gage. “Tell me what you know about Stardeep.”

Gage swallowed, turned pale. But he nodded.

“Kiril, Sathra did steal your sword, as I explained. And only because of my efforts was it returned to you. Please remember that while you listen to the rest of my tale.”

She gave a fractional nod of her head. “Time is not on our side—out with it, thief.”

He swallowed, a blush heating his checks. “Sathra took your sword, but it wasn’t she who worked for Stardeep—it was me. I was the spy…”

Kiril backhanded Gage so hard he spun and fell. Adrik the sorcerer took another step back, concern growing on his face. A high-pitched bell tolled from a nearby treetop; Xet was concerned about what might follow the slap.

Gage lay where he fell for a moment, rubbing his jaw. He coughed and spit out a bloody tooth. Kiril didn’t much care. She said, “I knew you lied when you said you’d killed Sathra, you bastard.”

The thief slowly sat up, but didn’t stand. Anger threaded his voice, but he replied, “You were justified in doing that. Now, are you planning on hitting me again, or do you want to hear my story?”

“I thought you were my friend!” Gage’s betrayal was the oil that fueled her fury.

He looked down. “I made a terrible mistake, Kiril. I am your friend, or would like to be, if you can forgive me.”

She wanted to strike him again, oh yes. Pick him up and throw him, kick him. Eradicate him from her memory. Instead

she said, “What about Nangulis? Was that a lie, too?”

Gage levered himself to his feet and backed off a pace before replying. “My contact from Stardeep was someone named Telarian. A male elf. In Laothkund he offered me a contract to steal a meaningless sword from a drunken swordswoman. That was before we ever met. If I had known—”

“I asked you about Nangulis, thief!” yelled Kiril. Rage burned her stomach; acid gave an unpleasant tang to the back of her mouth.

Gage rubbed his reddening jaw, said, “After we met, I realized I couldn’t carry the blade myself, due to Angul’s unique nature. So I sent wotd to Telarian—”

“How?”

“Telarian had a drop box set up in Laothkund. After I reported my failure, I was contacted again, and told to let slip the name Nangulis. I was to implicate Nangulis as the person who wanted the blade. Telarian said that would draw you to Stardeep without need for Angul’s theft.”

“Nangulis didn’t contact you at all?”

“No, Kiril. I’m sorry.”

The ex-Keeper put a hand to her brow. Was hope dead anew? She couldn’t trust the thief, that was obvious. But Nangulis’s name was in play. Who was this Telatian? Wait, she recalled someone named Telarian… a diviner among the Knights. Towatd the end, he had taken vows to learn the duties of the Outer Bastion. Now that she thought about it, Cynosure itself had indicated the diviner possessed exceptional talent and a strategic mind.

“This Telarian—did he call himself a Keeper?”

“Not in my hearing, Kiril.”

“He must have become one, in my absence.”

Gage shrugged apologetically.

Kiril said, “A Keeper corrupted, though, by the Traitor! Why does he want Angul? Or is it that the Traitor stiis in the

Well and Telarian requires the Blade Cerulean to quench the effort? Why then, did he not simply tell me? I would have come.”

Well, then again, perhaps she wouldn’t have responded. She had washed her hands pretty thoroughly of Stardeep when she’d fled. Washed them in the blood of innocents.

What if the new Keepers of Stardeep feared her, and didn’t want her homicidal help, only her blade? The last anyone in the hidden fortress had seen her, she’d been crazed and murderous. Perhaps they had sent the Knights against her to protect themselves.

No. Regardless of how her guilt attempted to fix her with all the blame, earned or unearned, the Knights’ slaughter of the wood elf encampment and the subsequent murderous rebuff of the Masters of the Yuirwood happened before she ever returned to the Causeway. That argued for the Traitor’s influence, if not his actual presence, loose in Stardeep. The vows forsaken when she’d fled struggled now in her breast, fluttering long unused wings.

And what if Nangulis truly had returned?

Kiril muttered, “I must gain entry! But the gates are closed, and I can’t reopen them. I’ll have to go the long way ‘round…”

She turned to address the barehand fighter, Raidon Kane. “You are welcome to accompany me, half-elf. I don’t know if we can find your mother, but it seems clear she was of the starry realm, and I must journey through Sildeyuir in order to enter Stardeep from beneath. I saw how you fought. Few I know could stand against you, and you didn’t even draw your blade. I could use your help.”

Raidon responded, “I shall not rest until I find my mother, or what became of her. Can Stardeep provide what I seek?”

Kiril said, “Your mother’s possession of a Seal of the Cerulean Sign indicates a connection with the dungeon

stronghold. Within Stardeep is an archive that names each of the original Seals, their owners, and when and where they were lost, if known. Perhaps those texts will provide the lead you require. Help me gain entty, and you can peruse them in full.”

“My path seems destined to lead to Stardeep. I accept your invitation,” replied the monk.

So saying, Raidon turned to his companion. “Adrik, your commission concluded some time ago. Thank you for remaining when the others retreated. Return to Relkath’s Foot, and from there, seek your brother in Emmech. He must wonder what has become of you. Go with my thanks.”

The sorcerer shook his head. “As you say, I’ve already outstayed the service for the coin you paid. Since my contract is concluded, I can do as I please. I’m coming with you, if you’ll have me.”

Adtik glanced at Kiril and continued. “Dip me in honey and set me to run through the Great Wild Wood if I pass up an oppottunity to find the ancient realm hidden behind the menhirs of Yuirwood! My brother’d boil me in formalin if he found out I turned my back on such a chance. I—”

Kiril raised an arm. “You’re welcome to join me as well. I saw you hurl fire like a warmage. If the Traitor’s minions stand in our way, we’ll have use of such talent.”

Adrik beamed.

“Very well,” interjected Gage, “I’ll get our packs. How do we get to Sil—”

“No. You are not coming with us.” Kiril pointed south. “Leave the fotest—the closest border is that way. No way I’d let a blood-flecking backstabbet accompany me into the starry realm, and into Stardeep itself.”

“I’ve come clean with you, Kiril. I’ve told you the truth!”

“Which is the only reason you’re not dead, despite Angul’s

wishes to the contrary. Get out of my sight before I change my mind, you damned liar.”

“You need me! I’ve talked to Telarian, and he’ll recognize me. We could trick him into—”

“I said no, thief. You dealt with Telarian, and perhaps you still have a deal. Just how gullible do you think I am? For all I know, you’re playing a deeper game than I can pierce, even now. I’m done talking about this.”

So saying, she walked forward, her left shoulder roughly shoving Gage to the side as she swept past him.

“You two, follow me. We can’t waste any more time than we already have.”

Kiril led Raidon Kane and Adrik Commorand away from the shore of the misted Chabala. The three figures melted into a line of short pines. The high-flying crystal dragonet darted a glance at the thief, who stood alone on the icy shore, unmoving, then flew after its mistress.

Gage picked up his pack and turned away from the Mere. Shoulders stooped, head down, he stumbled through the leafless glades of the Yuirwood, alone. His long strides ate the distance, but without companionship, the way ahead seemed long. Time spent in conversation passes more swiftly than the same span spent in self-loathing doubt and second-guessing.

And when his journey was concluded, it would be at Laothkund’s gate. Back to the cold city walls and slick rooftops. Quick thefts, quicker escapes, and finding a fence trustworthy enough to unload his take. Repeat. Only another fabulous heist away from a month-long party with fifty of his closest friends…

Friends who’d lose interest when the money ran out.

The only one who’d never cared who was buying had been Kiril. And he’d rewarded her by trying to steal the only

remaining thing in het life about which she cared.

“By the Queen of Air!” he swore. Gage paused beneath the bole of a hoary old evergreen.

It came down to the kind of man he wanted to be. He looked at his gauntleted hand. The demonic mouth drooled, its teeth working. It whispered, “One day I’ll have your soul, you know.” He frowned, shook his head.

“Don’t put off what you’ve alteady decided,” he muttered to himself. He turned and traced his own trail back to the edge of the Mere. There, plain as day, was the trail in the snow left by those who’d cast him aside.

“I’ll show her who she can trust, and who she can’t!” he promised.

His gauntlet growled, maybe in protest, perhaps in agreement, or possibly because it had not supped on blood in over a tenday.

Stardeep, Telarian’s Quarters

Shivers coursed through Telarian as if he stood in an icy waterfall. He considered his predicament; were his machinations ill-conceived? Cracks of failure on every front threatened to erode and crumble his endeavor, potentially causing the very catastrophe he sought to avoid. Incompetence, betrayal, and perhaps insinuations of the Traitor’s growing influence outside the Well worked against him.

He just prayed none of the incompetence was his own. The Keeper of the Outer Bastion grabbed the edges of his cot and held tightly, as if it threatened to suddenly launch him toward the high ceiling of his personal chamber. His breath shuddered, his mind skittered for any answer, any assurance.

Maybe Nis… ? He allowed his head to roll to the left. Nis nestled in its sheath, leaning against a stone scroll shelf on the far wall. He’d decided he needed to distance himself from the black blade, physically and mentally, if only for a little while. Now, after candle-spans of separation, a strange anxiety mounted, an anxiety born of more than the shambles

of his designs. It was an anxiety born of his desire to once again hold the blade.

Was he becoming addicted to Nis’s calming presence? No! A crazy thought! He wrenched his gaze back toward the ceiling. He was the master of his own destiny, by the Sign!

He concentrated on easing his breathing. As he did so, he slowly opened and closed his eyes. The glittering points of light sprinkled across the ceiling blinked into nonexistence, then back, over and over. A minor decorative illusion meant to convey the homey feeling of Sildeyuir, a realm he’d not walked in years, despite it being his place of birth, and despite it being relatively close. Duty prevented him. Duty not just to Stardeep, but to Sildeyuir, and the wider world behind which the starry realm rested: Faerun.

Faerun… and the monstrosities that yet hungered to consume it! He rose, so quickly his lower back twinged in protest. Just a minor distraction, like all the distractions, minor and major, that sought to deter him. How sad it would be if he allowed mere distractions to cloud his vision of what he had to do. How pitiful. He wouldn’t!

Telarian strode across the chamber, grabbed up Nis’s sheath, and tied it securely to his belt. This was the tool he’d created. It was his own ttue work, not something to be denied by fear-fed whispers. Weakling doubts might assail him, but he did not have to heed their ttaitorous suggestions, or even listen. He would fight to the end, using every weapon in his arsenal to its maximum.

The room darkened as he paced; the blade Nis streaked gloom behind him, briefly marking his path, despite residing snugly in its scabbard. Telarian failed to notice.

Besides Nis, his other tools included his own intellect and the special knowledge his divinatoiy craft revealed in the Epoch Chamber That and his partially successful efforts to bring Cynosure under his direct control. But then Delphe

had taken the sentient construct out of the control loop that interwove all Stardeep. Without the capacities of that mighty magical idol, Telarian’s scheme would certainly fail!

He hadn’t guessed or foreseen his fellow Keeper would take such direct and effective action. Nor had he counted on her refusing to listen to his many justifications for why Cynosure should be returned to active cognizance immediately. He’d finally been forced to give up his arguments for a time, lest she become suspicious over his zealousness.

Telarian always thought her a passive player, concerned chiefly with staring into the Well. His divinations had failed to reveal the depths of character Delphe would bring to bear when true danger threatened.

Damn her, though, for removing Cynosure from the equation! Without the construct s pinpoint ability to grant passage around Stardeep, he couldn’t access the Epoch Chamber. It was too dangerous for him to attempt the connection manually.

After all these years of dissembling, perhaps he should simply blurt the truth to Delphe, appeal to her reason. He imagined her working with him, instead of blindly countering his moves by chance and accident.

No, the auguries had been clear about what would happen if he succumbed to that temptation. She’d turn on him. Then he’d be forced to cut her down with Nis. She didn’t have the breadth of imagination to understand he did what he did for a reason. All the atrocities he would commit, all the lies he would tell, all the lives that had to be expended were required if apocalypse were to be prevented. If his vision of the future containing the awful soaring city was to be foiled, he could do nothing else.

Telarian closed his eyes and briefly saw the glyph-scribed obelisk wrapped in eternal storm, hollowed and inhabited by slime encrusted creatures whose hunger could never be

sated, the city that heralded a change so extreme nothing would be the same evet again.

He shook the tendrils of the vision clear of his mind’s eye. Not now.

“Cynosure?” Silence followed. Just checking.

Without Stardeep’s mind to guide him, he didn’t know which functions to manually access to locate Delphe. Even if he guessed properly, he wasn’t particularly adept at manually managing instant transfers. He hoped she wasn’t in the Throat overlooking the Well; then he’d have no choice but to ttust his skill—