The Adversary

Chapter Twenty-five

26 Ches, the Year of the Nether Mountain Scrolls (1486 DR) The Lost Peaks

The silence after the explosion felt like a living thing to Dahl, something tense and ready to pounce. He climbed the crumbling stairs and pushed the remains of the wooden hut off the exit, scrambling out through the dirt. Beyond, there was nothing left but rubble and the faint, winking remains of the Thayan wizard’s spell.

Dahl’s breath turned heavy in his lungs. The tower was gone. The wall was gone.

Farideh was gone.

Others came up out of the ground, surveying the damage. Dahl found he couldn’t look at any of them.

Oota clapped him on the shoulder. “Well done, son. I won’t lie. I was half-expecting to come out and find nothing changed.”

And instead, Dahl thought numbly, everything’s changed.

He turned to see Brin step out of the shelters, squinting at the light unimpeded by the many buildings. Brin shaded his eyes, looking toward the spot where the tower had stood, ignoring the people pushing past him. Staring as if every part of his mind refused to accept what lay before him. There was nothing Dahl could say.

A line of red light split the air beside them, followed by the scent of brimstone, the sizzle of the moisture burning out of the air. Dahl leaped back, the instinctive parts of his brain sure there was another explosion happening-and then Havilar stepped carefully down onto the ground, pulled Mehen after her, and then Mehen led Farideh down, still holding onto a scarlet hand. She looked back into the portal, as if she weren’t sure she ought to leave. But then Lorcan’s hand released her, and the portal sealed itself shut.

Havilar shuddered violently, looking through the crowd. “I can’t believe you looked,” Dahl heard her say, moments before Brin threw his arms around her. “Oh!” she cried. “Oh, you’re all right!”

Farideh looked out at the place where the tower had been, marveling at the empty crater. A chilly breeze stirred the air and lifted her dark hair. “Karshoj.” She looked back over her shoulder at Dahl. “We were lucky.”

“Very,” he said, smiling.

“Goodwoman?” Vescaras stood beside Farideh, holding a pair of shackles. “Your hands, please.”

“What?” Dahl cried. “No-don’t be ridiculous. She’s not a spy.”

“We have to be sure,” Vescaras said. Farideh looked past him, up at Mehen who stood over Vescaras like an unwelcome shadow.

“It’s just until we reach Waterdeep,” Mehen said. “We’ll be with you every step.”

“And you’ll not be harmed,” Vescaras said.

Dahl couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You don’t have to do this. You have nothing to prove.”

“Yes, I do,” Farideh said with a sigh. She held out her hands. “I always will.”

The prisoners wasted no time leaving the destroyed camp behind. Beyond the wall, down on a lower plateau, they made a makeshift camp, even as groups of them vanished into the forest, heading for faraway homes. Dahl considered the sheer numbers of people milling around-there was no surveying them, no keeping track of who’d been lost and who had left, who had which powers and whether they were safe. But at least, he could make sure that folks heading for Waterdeep or Everlund waited for the Harpers who would be returning that way. Oota and her most loyal were heading north. Cereon and the elves, south. Armas, Vanri, and Samayan would go with them for a ways.

“Turmish,” Armas said. “Then Airspur.”

Dahl frowned. “What about the other little boy?”

“Stedd has things to do,” Samayan said quietly, poppies unfolding around his feet.

“And the Harpers?” Dahl asked. Armas turned away angrily. “Be gentle with Tharra,” he finally said. “She wasn’t all bad.” Daranna had found a solid tree root, arching out of the ground, and slipped Farideh and Tharra’s shackles through it. Farideh quietly dealt Wroth cards in a tight square atop the rocky ground. Khochen, standing guard, looked up as Dahl approached.

“I’ve found a score who want to head to Waterdeep,” she said. “We’re going to be ages walking.”

“Better than not making it back,” he said. “I need to make a sending to Tam. Have you seen Vescaras?”

“He’s bothering Daranna. Don’t tell him I gave her the cards,” she said, nodding at Farideh. “He’ll think she’s sending messages to a confederate in the trees.” She grinned at Dahl. “And then you’ll have to admit you gave her them.”

Farideh looked up, puzzled. “Were you not supposed to?”

“Ignore her.” Dahl scowled at Khochen. “Do you have a cover of some sort?”

Khochen shook her head. “How many of them already figured you out? — there’s no pretending at a cover. Better to just get them where they’re going. Collect a few to our cause.”

Dahl considered all the clever folk he’d met in the past tenday. “I can think of a few.”

But the sending came first. He found Vescaras standing off at the edge of the rocky plateau, leaning against a tree and talking to Sheera, Daranna’s fledgling with the crossbow.

Flirting with Sheera, Dahl realized. He glanced back across the camp to where he’d left Khochen. She hadn’t seen-thank the gods. The long trek back to Waterdeep would only feel longer if Khochen were angry.

“Vescaras!” Dahl called. “I need to talk to you.” The half-elf scowled down at him. He gave his excuses to Sheera and skidded down the rock toward Dahl. “What is it?”

“I need to make a sending for Tam-have you got your kit still?”

“I have a spare,” Vescaras said, taking it off his belt and handing it over. “Is that all?”

“Thanks,” Dahl said. Then, “Look, I don’t want to get into your business, but Khochen doesn’t deserve you flirting like that behind her back, where everyone can see.”

Vescaras frowned. “What in the world are you talking about?”

“She told me, all right?” Dahl said. “I know it’s a secret, and believe me I wish it had stayed that way, but it didn’t, so. . treat her right. Or I have to tell her, and I don’t think she’s someone you want to wrong.”

Vescaras narrowed his eyes. “She told you we’re lovers?”

Dahl nodded. “I’ve kept it to myself.”

The other agent studied Dahl for a moment longer. “I know you’re friends with Khochen,” Vescaras said, “so please believe me I say this with the utmost respect: Khochen is a snake. She’s a good agent, but there is no way in all the layers of all the Hells that I would let her get close enough to my vital organs or my coin purse to become anything remotely like her lover.”

Dahl colored. “Gods damn it-I knew she would lie.”

“It happens to the best of us,” Vescaras offered. “She did say you wouldn’t need rescuing, and she was more than right about that. So perhaps your friendship isn’t ended?”

Dahl regarded Vescaras warily-it was as complimentary as he’d ever heard the other man be. “Thank you.”

“Not at all. I presume this means you’ll be rejoining the rest of us in the field?”

“We’ll see what Tam thinks,” Dahl said. They started toward the center of the camp again. “Khochen also said you don’t like me because you think I snubbed your sister.”

“Did she?”

“Is that it?”

Vescaras squinted as if considering his words. “It would be unmannerly to get into,” he finally said. “But no. However, should one of my sisters give you another invitation to attend on her? I suggest you politely make your excuses, quickly and clearly.”

“No room in the Ammakyl’s manor for a farmer’s son?” Dahl retorted.

“No room for a smug hardjack who trails trouble,” Vescaras corrected. “But as I said, it would be unmannerly to get into.”

Farideh woke to someone shaking her shoulder. A hand clapped over her mouth as she stirred, and she saw Tharra leaning close over her, a finger to her lips.

“Don’t scream.” The Harper took her hand carefully from Farideh’s mouth. “I owe you,” Tharra said. “For saving Samayan. For trusting me. Despite the wizard’s finest.” She held up a bent piece of metal. “I’ll break you out too. There’s a lot of world to escape to.”

Farideh blinked at her. “Isn’t that against your code?”

“Lot of ways to read the code,” Tharra said. “I’d argue I didn’t betray the Harpers, so it’s not treason and not a hanging offense. But will the Shepherd?” She shrugged. “I’m not taking that risk. Neither should you.”

“No,” Farideh said. “I’m not leaving.” Mehen slept on beside her. Havilar lay beyond with her head in Brin’s lap. Dahl was somewhere out on the edge, standing guard. “My family’s here. My friends.”

“Do you think that’s going to last? A devil’s deal-that leaves you tainted.

Not something that love and wishes will wash away.”

“It hasn’t stopped them yet.”

“And the Harpers? They didn’t listen to Dahl about the shackles, why would they take your word? What’s to say they’re not just going to make your family face your execution?” Tharra looked down at Farideh’s chained ankles. “You come with me, and you can tell them at least that you kept on living.”

“I do think they’ll care what happened,” Farideh said. “And maybe they’ll care for you too-if you’re right, if you didn’t betray the Harpers, why not say so? If you’re innocent-”

“Innocent and guilty all depend on the judge,” Tharra said. “And I’m a lot better for the world if I keep running free. You would be too.”

Farideh considered that. There remained the fear that she was wrong about Tam, that she was wrong about everyone. That whatever she told them, the truth would be too much.

But beside her, Mehen stirred in his sleep, and her heart squeezed. “I won’t leave them.”

“Suit yourself,” Tharra said. “They’ll stop trusting you eventually.”

“And they’ll hunt you down.”

Tharra smiled. “Then I’ll have to lead them on a merry chase in the meantime.”

Farideh shut her eyes and laid her head against the tree once more. She heard Tharra stand and pick her way through the sleeping guards. She heard the alarm called out, and people running through the underbrush. Mehen woke at their shouts, and Farideh opened her eyes again to see him, blade in hand, eyes on Dahl coming to stand beside her. Dahl took in the unlocked shackles beside Farideh.

“Good,” he said, sounding relieved. “Good. You’re still here.”

Mehen reached over and took her hand. Farideh squeezed his back. “I’m not going anywhere,” she said.

The night after the explosion, when the prisoners had finally cleared out enough to make it safe to approach and the Shadovar carriers had long since circled the battered mountain and fled back to Netheril, Zahnya moved across the charred field of rubble that had once been Adolican Rhand’s internment camp. The spell had leveled the fortress and burned the hundreds of huts into ash. Not a living soul remained-only Zahnya, moving like a ghost in the moonlight toward the wisp of colored light hanging over the middle of the field.

The boneclaw and the zombies that had been her apprentices followed after, but there was no need. Nothing on the surface had survived the ritual-not a mortal, not a mouse. Only the lake, shimmering under the stern light of Selûne, remained the same, somehow untouched. Zahnya eyed it in the distance. A curiosity-but not one she could worry about now.

No, the spark dancing just higher than her head took all of her concern. It looked like nothing so much as a half-soaked firework, a sputtering pinwheel losing intensity by the second as it weaved over the ground. Magros had promised her a divine spark great enough to raise a mortal to the heights of demigodhood. He hadn’t counted on the Harpers, true, but who could have known better than a devil that a handful of meddling spies would throw their plans into disarray?

His Omnipotence would not be pleased.

Zahnya took a box made of enameled bone from her sleeve and held it open. The spark flew into it, as if it were coming home to roost. Not enough, she thought. Not nearly enough.

“Do we return now?” the boneclaw rasped.

“In a moment,” Zahnya said. She climbed up onto a chunk of sharp black stone and faced the field. “We cannot return empty-handed,” she said. “We cannot leave anything for Netheril.”

Selûne watched over her dark rituals, impassive as Zahnya had always seen the moon goddess. Perhaps she knew, much as her Harpers had, that there were darker enemies on the field. It may take all who would stand against Shar to thwart her.

Zahnya smiled to herself as one by one, corpses recombined and rose from the destruction. Perhaps Selûne doesn’t know yet, Zahnya thought, what Thay is capable of.

At her feet the rubble stirred and rained off first a pair of shadar-kai-still missing pieces from their faces, but unmistakable in their studded armor-and then a bearded human man whose eyes glowed eerie blue.

“Mistress,” the wight growled.