Caledan grinned as Tyveris helped him heave another heavy chunk of granite from the fissure. All of them felt their spirits lifting.

They had been working only scant minutes, however, when Caledan felt a sudden chill. The golden sunlight dimmed as if a cloud were passing overhead, and the wind carried the scent of dry, stale dust to his nose. That was strange after all the rain that had fallen.

"Caledan. Look above you." Something in Mari's voice made the hair on the back of Caledan's neck stand up. He and Tyveris looked up, and both of them froze.

A man stood on the side of the small hillock no more than ten paces away, gazing down at the companions. He was a noble-looking man with a strong, aquiline nose and eyes of pale gray. His attire-a brocaded longcoat over a ruffled shirt, tightly fitting breeches, and high leather boots-was fine, even opulent, but it looked strangely archaic, bespeaking the fashions of another age. Oddest of all were his silvery cloak and his long, onyx-black hair, for neither of these stirred in the brisk wind that whipped across this high, open place.

"By Oghma above, I can see right through him," Tyveris whispered, and Caledan realized he could do the same. The outlines of a gnarled cedar tree were hazy but clearly visible through the man. The loremaster gripped the holy symbol that hung about his neck and muttered a prayer to appease the dead.

Morhion stepped forward, bending slowly in a regal bow.

"Hail, Talek Talembar," the mage intoned in his burnished voice. Caledan stared at Morhion in shock.

With ethereal elegance the spectral man mirrored the mage's bow. The motion was accompanied by a faintly audible sound, like the tinkling of tiny, distant bells. Tatters of mist drifted about the phantom, glowing in the bronze light of the westering sun.

"Indeed, mage," the spectral man spoke in a voice that was so deep as to be thunderous, yet musical at the same time. "It is I, Talek Talembar. Or at least the shadow of one who once was so named."

A look of wonder crossed each of the companions' faces. Caledan felt a shiver ripple up his spine. It was not every day he found himself facing a man who had been dead for over a thousand years.

The phantom nodded his head solemnly toward Caledan. "Greetings, Caledan Caldorien."

A tendril of mist reached out to softly encircle Caledan. He could feel its chill, gentle touch. "How… how do you know me?" He somehow managed to give voice to the words. His breath fogged on the strangely cold air. He realized he was trembling but could not help himself. He had been prepared for uncovering the dusty remains of Talembar's long-dead bones. This… this was something altogether different.

The phantom made a shrugging gesture. "How do I know that it is daylight? That a storm has just vented its anger here? That a thousand years have fled since the day I fell in this valley? I do not know how I know, only that I do know. I know who each of thou art, and even why thou seeketh me, though in truth I could not tell thee how I came to be here, standing before thee. Perchance thy need was great enough to summon me. I must confess to thee, Caldorien, death has proved most mysterious." A faint smile touched the phantom's lips.

Ferret took a timid step forward, though he kept close to Caledan. "You aren't angry that we've… ah, disturbed your eternal rest, are you?" the thief asked in a tremulous voice.

The phantom laughed, a haunting yet lovely sound, like the call of a far-off horn. "Fear not, my good, cunning rogue. The only danger that awaited thee at my tomb lies now at the bottom of the precipice, quite dead, as I might well know. No more harm will come to thee, at least not in this place."

Caledan managed to regain a semblance of composure. He nodded in solemn respect, then dared to speak again. "Then you know why it is we have come seeking your tomb, Talembar."

Slowly Talembar nodded. "Yes, I do know. But I cannot tell thee the secret of the shadow song, Caldorien. For the simple reason that I have forgotten it."

"Forgotten it?" Caledan said incredulously. "But how could you forget something as important as that?"

"The spirit world is far removed from ours, Caldorien," Morhion interposed. "The veil that separates this world from that is heavy and obscuring. Eventually the dead must forget the world of the living, else they would never be able to leave it behind."

"Alas, what the mage doth speak is true," Talembar said sadly. "And I think had thou arrived a century later than thou hast, I may not have come to greet thee at all. Most of my memories of the daylit world are as if viewed through a hazy mist, muted and dimmed by the centuries that have passed. A few memories stand out clearly like glimmering jewels, but even these are growing fewer. I remember creating the shadow song, Caldorien. I remember playing the song upon my pipes to wrest the Nightstone from that being of darkness, the Shadowking. But alas, what the precise notes of the song were eludes me now. I am sorry."

Caledan sighed, swallowing his frustration. There was little use in shouting at a ghost.

"Is there anything at all you can tell us?" Mari asked the phantom. "Anything that might help us to understand the secret of the song?"

The shadow of Talek Talembar paused for a long moment, his gray eyes lost in thought. He seemed to be growing dimmer as the sun sank toward the western horizon. Finally he made a gesture of regret. "Of that, I can tell thee nothing except…" Talembar frowned in concentration, then he shook his head. "… except that thou might look for its echo in the place where last it was played. That is all."

The phantom had grown more transparent and was beginning to fade.

"Do not despair yet, Caldorien," Talembar said. His voice sounded hollow and distant, as if echoing down a long corridor of stone. "It is true that a great darkness awaits thee beneath this city you call 'Iriaebor.' I know, for I have faced it. But I defeated it. It is in thy power to do the same, Caldorien, for thou doth possess the shadow magic."

Caledan frowned in puzzlement. 'The 'shadow magic'? You mean that trick of making shadows move on the walls?"

Talek Talembar glowered angrily, and for a moment Caledan shivered. "It is far more than a trick to amuse children, Caldorien. The shadow magic is the key. None dare play the shadow song unless he be a friend of the shadows. It is a gift most rare and precious, Caldorien. It is for thy shadow magic that the shadevar was sent to slay thee. How is it thou didst not come to know this? Why, even the maiden who stands beside thee knows that what I say is true."

Caledan felt a coldness slice through his chest. He turned to stare at Mari in disbelief. Her face was pale, her eyes wide. Mari knew about the importance of the shadow magic?

"'Ware the darkness within the hollow Tor, lest it be freed to wreak grievous ruin upon the land," Talembar warned. Little remained of the phantom now but a faint, blurring outline. "Remember, Caldorien, only you may stand before it. Yet do not forget how the strength of each of thy companions may steady thee."

The ruddy orb of the sun dipped beneath the western horizon. The tendrils of mist scattered in the wake of a sudden breeze. The phantom was gone.

Like a mantle on the land, purple twilight descended. The companions were silent. All faces were turned toward Caledan. Mari's dark eyes were wide. "Caledan, let me explain," she said, reaching out and gripping his arm.

He shook her hand off. "What's to explain?" he said acidly. He felt sickened; his head ached fiercely. "You and the Harpers have been using me all along, I see that now. You knew that Ravendas was searching for the Nightstone, didn't you? Just as you knew that only someone with the shadow magic could reclaim it from the Shadowking's crypt." Mari shook her head but did not deny his words. The others stared, dumbfounded. "That's why you sought me out," Caledan growled. "Not because I was familiar with Iriaebor or Ravendas, but because the Harpers knew about my shadow magic."