The masked witches

Do you see? Dai Shan asked.

Yes, said Aoth. Presumably the enemy was making for a different doorway to leave this place. This may well

The view before him shifted. The arch still opened on a farrago of grim and sometimes bizarre stonework, but it was different stonework. A bas-relief of skeletal Kelemvor enthroned and holding his scales had given way to a row of grimacing demonic heads sticking out of the wall like rainspouts. A sarcophagus big enough for a fomorian had become steps leading down to a small boat with an empty bed in the center, a craft perhaps destined to wait forever for someone to put a corpse onboard, set it ablaze, and shove it out onto the black water beyond the quay.

Aoth realized no one had spoken the words that had supposedly produced such a transformation before. Then he realized Dai Shan was standing a pace behind him.

As he started to turn, something slammed into his head. If not for his helmet, and a hundred years of experience in rolling with impacts he couldn t avoid, the blow might well have snapped his spine.

As it was, it stabbed pain through his neck and threw him off balance. He struggled to get his feet under him, while Dai Shan plowed into him like a wrestler intent on bulling his opponent out of the ring.

That s a mistake, thought Aoth. He moved his hands up on the haft of his spear and stabbed at the spot where Dai Shan s neck met his shoulder.

Somehow, Dai Shan sensed the attack coming. He let Aoth go and jerked backward. It saved his life, but he failed to avoid the stroke entirely. The spearhead raked across the front of his torso and gashed him.

Give up, Aoth said. You re unarmed and wounded. You can t win.

Dai Shan made a shallow bow. Reluctant as I am to contradict such a perspicacious leader of men, he said, it appears to me that I ve already won. You may find it instructive to examine our surroundings.

Aoth risked a glance and discovered that when the Shou had tackled him, he d shoved him to the other side of the arch. Worse much worse the view on the side where they d started had altered, too. There was still a tomb-scape there, but not the same one where he d left Jhesrhi and Cera working their magic.

Does the illustrious war mage understand now? Dai Shan asked, the slightest of smiles upturning the corners of his mouth. Lacking the true secret of the portals, you will wander here alone until you either succumb to thirst or attract the attention of something that resents trespassers. The sunlady, the elementalist, and those peculiar deer men are in essentially the same predicament, although they at least have one another for company.

And I have you, said Aoth. To cut on until you open the gate again.

The Shou inclined his head. An eminently practical solution, he replied, if only I were in every sense the true, unique Dai Shan. But alas, it isn t so. I m merely a shadow, doomed to fade away no matter what, so neither torture nor murder worries me unduly.

Then why even bother to attack me? asked Aoth.

Why not just lure us in here, fade, and leave us trapped?

Again, I congratulate you on the acuity of your mind, said the Shou. That s an entirely sensible question. The answer is that I neither know all the qualities of this place nor the full capabilities of you and your allies. Pooling your resources, you, Jhesrhi Coldcreek, and Cera Eurthos might just have found a way out. The two ladies still might. But not you, mighty warrior, not alone, not when your particular system of wizardry revolves around blasting and smiting, not solving subtle conundrums of metaphysics. And ultimately, it s you who are my competitor for the griffons.

Aoth had the ghastly feeling that Dai Shan had just told him the truth in every respect. Yet it was possible he was bluffing, that he wasn t really going to melt away but was instead just waiting for a chance to escape.

And even if he wasn t, Aoth very much wanted to hurt him. He snarled a word of power, jabbed with his spear, and hurled darts of blue-green light from the point.

The missiles stabbed into Dai Shan s torso, and he stumbled back against the wall. Aoth lunged after him.

The darkness thickened and swirled around the Shou like a black whirlwind. Then he vanished.

Aoth suspected his foe had only shifted a short distance. He whirled, seeking him, and spotted him immediately. But before he could do anything about it, the gloom churned, and Dai Shan disappeared for a second time.

Aoth s battle instincts told him the merchant had jumped back to his original position. He pivoted just in time to catch a clanging snap kick on his targe. Spi

Aoth simultaneously shifted the targe to protect his face and thrust around the side of it. The stroke caught Dai Shan in midair and drove into his belly.

The Shou landed on his back. He tried to heave himself up off the floor, but the effort proved to be too much for him. He gave Aoth a little nod.

It was a singular honor, Dai Shan whispered, to watch such an illustrious man-at-arms ply his trade. Thank

The Shou disappeared, but it was different than before. The darkness hadn t stirred to help him whisk himself across space. Rather, he d simply faded away as he d said he would.

With him vanished any trace of vengeful satisfaction that Aoth might otherwise have felt. Because it didn t matter that he d destroyed that particular manifestation of his rival s power. Dai Shan had outwitted and outmaneuvered him, and as a result, not only he but also Jhesrhi and Cera were in trouble.

Aoth comprehended all too well that he didn t know how to control the portals. Dai Shan had concealed the actual procedure. But just to make absolutely sure, he faced the arch and said, In the name of the Vaunted, the Staff-Bearer, the Lord of the Hidden Crypt, open.

It didn t.

Feeling every bit as energized, as angry, as he had when he first descended into the tu

Something about the arch snagged Vandar s attention, although he had no idea what or why. Except for the three grooves carved at the top, it didn t look any different than the many other openings he d passed.

Puzzled, he stopped and examined the arch. He still couldn t see anything special about it, and was about to move on when he realized that while he himself hadn t noticed anything, the red spear in his left hand and the crimson broadsword in his right one had. Making themselves felt in a ma

Frowning and struggling to understand them, he concentrated on the alien feelings. After a few moments he decided that the weapons themselves were unable to interpret what they were sensing. But because he was paying attention, just for an instant he heard Cera calling.

Or had he? Her voice sounded faint and faraway, and more than that, there was a not-quite-real quality to it, like it had only called in his memory or imagination.

Still, he answered. He shouted her name, but she didn t shout back. Whatever he d heard, or thought he d heard, there was nothing left of it. He waved one of his mystified torchbearers up to the archway. The wavering yellow glow of the brand didn t illuminate all that much of the branching passage, but the way was empty as far down as Vandar could see.

He shook his head. If he tarried here long enough, would the fey weapons make sense of the mystery? If so, was that what he should do? If Cera was in danger