Behroun was surprised to see the cloaked man suddenly appear at the edge of his desk. "Japheth! You are quick! I sent a courier at dusk."

The warlock inclined his head. "I have eyes in many places, as you know. If you had merely placed my symbol on your manor door, as I instructed, I would have appeared even sooner."

Behroun shook his head as if in disgust, but said, "You're here, that's what matters. I've got something special lined up. Something vital to Marhana. I need my most potent and trusted agent to serve as my envoy."

"You'll turn my head with all your praise," responded Japheth, his tone indicating just the opposite. Anusha was familiar with Behroun's verbal tactics-flattery came first, followed by demands. When he set his mind to it, Behroun could charm the nose off a troll. But he only applied his charm to people he couldn’t manipulate any other way.

The warlock said, "Tell me what you want."

"You're setting sail two days from now with Captain Thoster on the Green Siren. He-"

"No," interrupted Japheth. "He's a freebooter. And his bloodline is tainted. I'll have nothing to do with him."

"Your own bloodline is none too pure, warlock. Besides, you've dealt with Thoster all along."

"Incorrect."

"Don't delude yourself," sneered Behroun. "From where do you suppose all the Cormyrean coin I pay you in has come? Thoster."

"If you deal with pirates, that's hardly a concern of mine."

Lord Marhana snorted. "No one pays as well as I, you've said it yourself. Gold coin, pure and unalloyed. And you need all you can get, don't you? Otherwise, the crimson road will sweep you all the way to its final destination."

Japheth glanced sharply at the shipping magnate but didn't correct him.

"So, will you sail with Thoster as I've asked? I need you on board to keep me informed on a daily basis of his activities. He's apparently uncovered some vast opportunity. It could be the break Marhana needs. He says his alliance with a creature of the sea is about to pay fantastic dividends. Perhaps more than just gold: influence. Power. I need you on site to act as my proxy."

"… I'll consider your offer."

All pretense of cordiality fled Behroun's eyes. He snapped, "Don't consider too long, or I'll break your pact stone. Then, no matter how far you flee down the crimson road, the wrath of your Lord of Bats will find you."

Anusha was already anxious, witnessing the conversation between her half brother and Japheth. A stress headache blossomed behind her eyes. When Behroun's cruel visage uttered his odd, incomprehensible threat, Anusha took an involuntary step backward, directly into an artfully stuffed osprey mounted on a slender rod.

The display toppled with a crash. Japheth and Behroun jerked around. The warlock's eyes focused past her, but they widened anyway. He exclaimed, "A phantasm!"

Japheth could see her! Lord Marhana was looking over the warlock's shoulder, but his eyes were not focused on her either, but at the wall behind her. Behroun yelled, "An assassin! Sent by a rival house-disperse it, Japheth!"

Anusha glanced back to see what Behroun and Japheth saw. Was there an assassin behind her?

They were looking at the silver-framed mirror Behroun purchased from a Calimshan trader. In the mirror's glossy pane stood a ghastly shape of shadow. She knew immediately it was a reflection of her dream shape! She raised a hand, and the image mimicked her action. She saw that her fingers, her arm, her entire body was like a shadow outlined in ethereal white and blue fire.

Japheth raised his arms, palms facing Anusha. His cloak flared of its own accord, revealing a void of absolute darkness within its folds. And from that darkness, a swarm of black motes winged forth.

Anusha wrenched herself backward, mentally demanding, Wake up! Wake up! Wake-

Her eyes snapped wide. A bedside candle revealed she lay twisted in her coverlets. In her bedroom. Her gaze wandered the serene, quiet expanse of her walls, the ceiling, the furnishings in her room. She raised her hand, saw it normally. The dream was concluded.

"What a nightmare!" she exclaimed, sitting up. She wondered how long she'd slept-darkness still reigned outside.

Standing, she shrugged into her nightrobe. She tied its belt securely around her waist before exiting her bedroom into the darkened hall. Water. Water was what she needed. Her headache, the one from her dream, persisted.

She wandered into the upper story of the manor, then down a curving flight of steps into the front hall. As she was about to pass into the back hall that led to the kitchens, Anusha saw a glint of light out the windows. She moved to the glass and saw that the lights in the south wing of the manor were lit.

Two men were illuminated in the glow of the strong lamps.

Anusha immediately recognized them. Her half brother, Behroun, and the warlock, Japheth, argued in Behroun's office.

Tiny wings seemed to pat and flutter in her stomach. The feeling accompanied a mad inkling. Could it be?

A chill swept from her brow down her spine, tingling as if with vertigo.

Her dream had come true.

Darkness defined the length and breadth of the world, forever.

Timeless intervals passed. Ages and epochs, or days and tendays, no consciousness persisted to measure the void's period. Other worlds were born, matured, grew old, died, and passed away in that interlude. Or had the darkness lasted the duration of an eye-blink? Or somewhere in between…

The void's edges wavered, blurred, and then peeled away. Behind was exposed a pale, misted light. The darkness contracted upon itself, becoming a dome, then a sphere, then a blot as it lifted up and away to nothing.

A cloud-shrouded sky of gray, lit with occasional flashes of distant lightning, was revealed.

Eyes slowly integrated elements, as if assembling pieces of a puzzle. Concepts of sky, time, and cloud leisurely assembled within a man's fragmented, subconscious mind.

The man's brow furrowed. A sudden disorientation collapsed his blank observation of the heavens.

Where was he? And…

Why couldn't he remember his own name?

The man turned his head. Or tried to. Some force resisted. His gaze rotated less than an inch. Scanning with only his eyes, he saw he was surrounded in some cold, unyielding substance. He was caught like a bug in some sort of greenish material.

Anger's flame woke. He tried to suck in a deep breath. He failed-he was completely isolated, apparently, even from air. A sliver of his mind wondered why he hadn't already suffocated. The greater portion of his attention focused on the crisis at hand. He must break free, or he would die. Whatever had kept him alive prior to this moment was failing. Already, lack of air made dark spots dance on the periphery of his vision.

A subconscious instruction surfaced: Shout! Scream a single syllable of concentrated desire with the last of your stale breath, and hope it is enough.

The man focused on his diaphragm, then expelled the final vestiges of air from his lungs with an explosive, guttural, "Kihop!"

The material surrounding his head shattered like dry adobe struck with a maul. Cool air suddenly caressed his face. He was still caught, but at least he could breathe.

He sucked in a long, deep breath, expanding his chest so much that the material surrounding him cracked.

He wrenched his body with a violent strength his limbs remembered, even if he did not. Pain knifed through his left shoulder, and the man loosed a surprised yell.

His left arm throbbed with a twinge so intense that blackness threatened to rob him of consciousness again. Was it broken? No way to tell while he remained trapped.