Cold, familiar laughter. Radiance, conjured by another, was born and grew stronger in the room. By it she saw Blaskyn step out of the shadows, the Helm of Hiding gleaming under his arm. He chuckled again, peering toward her.
Hastily Laeral shut her eyes to slits and lay very still. From the first, he had been very good at the blasting spells.
"So ends my apprenticeship," Blaskyn said triumphantly. "The throne's 'mastery of wizardry' shall be mine!"
He strode past Laeral to the stone seat, wearing that easy grin Laeral knew so well.
Then, suddenly, Blaskyn stopped and turned. "She held the rod, her most precious magic," he muttered. His hands moved in quick, sure gestures.
Laeral closed her eyes, raging inwardly. He was far more a master of magic than he'd ever led her to believe.
Laeral felt the rocks above her deftly lift away-a telekinesis spell, no doubt. Crushing weight rose from her, gently and silently. The rocks pinning her down were gone.
With iron will, Laeral resisted the urge to shift to a position of easier rest, stilling the pain. Dead she must appear-or dead she surely soon would be.
She felt the rod twitched from her half-open fingers. "Unbroken? Good," Blaskyn's voice came, from very close above her. Laeral kept her face, twisted in pain, motionless. "Hmm... her rings."
She felt the rings stripped from her fingers, her ex-apprentice sighing in disgust at the blood on them.
Deft fingers wandered over her body, finding the daggers in her boots and the sheath in her bodice where the wand had been. She heard rocks grating as they were moved, and then Blaskyn's disgusted voice again.
"Broken. Well, that leaves only this." The crude, plain pendant she'd worn so long was roughly jerked from around her neck, its thong snapping. "It's some sort of magic; I know that much."
Laeral lay still as his hands wandered over her body. All the Art she had left were a few spells still in her head and a certain magical token, a lone earring hidden in her hair. He'd find it, all too soon, then leave her to die.
Probing fingers found the roughness where her leg was broken and stabbed at it, seeking hidden treasure. The pain! Unable to stop herself, Laeral shuddered, whimpering.
Cruel hands jerked her chin up, shaking her head until Laeral opened pain-racked eyes and stared into the cold, level gaze of her ex-apprentice.
Blaskyn smiled. "Still alive, eh? Well, you'll live long enough to tell me where all your magic lies hidden-and long enough, perhaps, for... other things!"
Laeral whimpered. Mockingly caressing hands shifted her leg with brutal haste. The broken ends of bone grated together. She tried to scream as he shook her, but could manage only a sob. Blaskyn chuckled at the sound and cruelly dropped her back among the stones.
Red mists of pain rose and fell before her eyes. Through them, Laeral saw Blaskyn walk to the throne, turn to salute her mockingly, and sit down with a triumphant sneer.
His face changed. It seemed to glow with white fire. His smile slid away from his lips almost immediately. Pearly radiance shone from the stone, growing stronger. In utter silence Laeral watched cold white fire race up and clown his limbs.
Blaskyn's flesh sank inward, his skin withering and sagging on suddenly revealed bones. He screamed.
Her horrified gaze locked with his, Laeral saw his eyes catch fire and burn. The whites darkened and receded to become points of glowing light.
As his gums and lips shriveled, Blaskyn screamed hollowly, "Laeral! Mistress! Help me-ee-eeF
Teeth sprayed from his agonized mouth. His cry died away into dry choking. His body shook and strained. He seemed unable to rise from the blazing throne.
Silence fell. What had once been her apprentice seemed to grow calmer-or less conscious. Laeral shifted herself to as comfortable a position as she could manage, wondering if Blaskyn was dead.
All at once, the slumped body on the throne1 began to smile. Lipless jaws worked, and then shaped words. "Ah... ah... a good body, this. Better than the wench, though she taught it but a pitiful amount of Art. It will serve."
What had been Blaskyn stood up stiffly. Her rod, daggers, and all fell to the floor with a clatter, the rings rolling slowly off into the darkness.
All too soon, the sunken face loomed up over Laeral.
Ha ha! This is as good as one of those plays nobles mount at their revels in waterdeep.'
Aye, and all true.
On? Can you prove it?
I must trust Mystra.
[scowl, snort] Well, one of us must, i suppose...ok i'll newr see magic out of you. Proceed.
Indeed.
"This fool thought to question ye before he claimed and slew ye," came a cold voice. It sounded more like the lich she had destroyed than Blaskyn. "I am Thalon and have no need to waste words trying to pry secrets and cleave through deceit. My claws will cook ye where ye lie. When they're done, and I eat thy flesh, I will know all ye know. Thy skull will join the others on the shelf-fools who accompanied the mages who lusted after mastery over wizardry. 'Sit not alone, and all that..."
The gaunt face stared down at her almost approvingly. "The young and strong mages have served me as bodies, down the years. Thine is too broken and weaker than this fool's."
As he spoke, the crawling claws swarmed over Laeral. Skeletal fingers tore clothes away and raked stones aside. Dry bones scuttled over and under her bared flesh, dragging branches and twigs from somewhere painfully in underneath her.
Througji all this bony violation, the burning eyes that had once been Blaskyn's looked down at her coldly and steadily.
"This fool lusted after thee, Laeral," came the hollow voice, almost jauntily, "but thy flesh is more useful to me cooked and eaten. It has been a long time... I hope the arundoon sauce has survived."
Thalon turned away, stopped, and picked up Laeral's pendant. He gave her a grisly smile. "The fool didn't even know what this was," he said, tying it about his own neck. "My thanks, mageling-only one globe left, but it's been years since I've worn a necklace of missiles! Not since... but ye need not know that." He turned and went to the stairs, walking more swiftly and smoothly with each stride.
"Don't go-I'll be back directly," the hollow voice called back to her, cold and cheerful.
Laeral shuddered and whimpered at the agony her movement had brought her.
The endless, silent crawling went on. Almost fainting with the pain, Laeral raised a numbed hand and carefully took the earring from her ear. Her last magic. Her hand closed over it and fell back amid the growing pile of wood.
A strange, horrid noise came up the stairs, growing nearer: The lich was humming. That white, sunken face smiled cruelly above her again.
Suddenly Laeral felt cold, sticky liquid falling on her. Thalon was calmly emptying the contents of a crystal decanter onto her limbs.
"Arundoon sauce," the archmage said lightly. "In splendid condition, too, thanks to the spells on the decanter. I'll just put it somewhere safe-for next time. When I come back, Laeral, we'll share a kiss; thy last, I fear, for with it I'll breathe dragon fire into ye, and ye'll burn.... Do minstrels still sing of kisses that burn? I gave them that phrase, though its true meaning seems to have been forgotten."
Thalon lingered above her thoughtfully. "Much about me has been forgotten in the Realms. With this fine young body and your knowledge of who works magic and where, I'll change all that. One mage will lead me to another, until I've swallowed what all of them know. I thank thee for this opportunity, Laeral. It's most kind of ye."
Laeral fought to keep her eyes open against waves of sleepy pain.