"What?" Behind them, Nameless took to the air again, a low growl that spread around the room as he flew and darted among the bookshelves to shake off the emotions he felt from his mistress. In response to her shout, the tall crystal spindles began to spin and hum an unearthly harmony. "Don't shout, Tsarra. It upsets your familiar and can disturb my Uvaerenni lore-crystals. Again, calm yourself or you'll slip into another vision." For a few moments, the only sounds in the chamber were the dying hum of the crystals, Tsarra's breathing, and Khelben's footsteps as he paced from shelf to shelf. When he touched their spines, the books pulled themselves off the shelves and their covers flapped merrily to fly across the room and pile themselves upon the table. Khelben returned to the table and looked at Tsarra. "You recall the troubles with the phaerimm two summers ago? All of these events have been imminent since then." "Don't change the subject, Master.

What do the phaerimm have to do with this?" Tsarra asked. "They haven't attacked us or anyone else within hundreds of miles of Waterdeep, at least that we know of." Khelben waved one arm to the side, and hands grew from the table's wood, both on its surface and along its legs, to grab fallen items. The hands reorganized the morass of books into neat piles until the area was cleared. He placed out one scroll and three large tomes in that area and gestured Tsarra forward.

"You're neither ignorant nor stupid, Tsarra. I expected you'd have worked it out yourself already if we'd had a chance." Khelben's irritation came through his tone. "Very well. Simplest lore first.

Against whom did the phaerimm battle most?" "Netheril and its archwizards. So this is about the Nether Scrolls? But you said-"

"Patience. Did they have any other prominent foes?" Tsarra smacked a hand down on the table. "The sharn! Gods, I feel stupider than an otyugh." Her face went red from embarrassment. "Don't berate yourself," Khelben continued. "This situation has more conundrums and enigmas within it than most wizards see in a lifetime. You demanded this knowledge, and we're building it up from its most basic. Now, what is different about the Realms now compared to the past millennia?" Tsarra's anger flared again, but she kept her response civil. She hated condescension, but she knew Khelben meant to put her back in the place of the student. Still, two could play that game, and Tsarra recited Khelben's lecture of the last month back to him:

"'Netherese walk the Realms again, and their myopic and self-serving use of powerful magic threatens all of us. They bring a darker magic not of Mystra with them that may have unforeseen effects upon the Weave. The Sharnwall that once hemmed in the phaerimm beneath Anauroch is no more. These two events above all others must be studied seriously, as I suspect they bring greater effects than are yet known.

However, they are not to be feared-Fear keeps you from seeing what you need to see to counter a spell or divert a disaster. Respect your foes, understand all you can about each event, and never let your emotions keep you from learning all you can. Your lives may depend on it some day.'" Khelben smirked at her and said, "Word for word. Good.

Your eidetic memory's intact. You had me worried for a while, my dear.

Now, you've studied lore on Netheril in the past and you've had more experience than many with the sharn-at least more than most who still draw breath. Where's the connection? You've got most of what facts you need, so put it together." Khelben's face took on an eager yearning, one Tsarra used to see on her father's face when they were hunting game for a feast. Tsarra paced around the table, since she thought better while moving and she wanted to get out from under his stare.

Khelben watched her, rifling through the tomes without looking at them. Tsarra started to consider aloud, "For some reason, the sharn attack us when we get Legacy artifacts together and the lightning strikes. They have some unknown link to both phaerimm and Netheril."

Thinking back on her research and an unfinished scroll on her desk, she remembered something. "Wait a moment-you had me studying any other possible methods of survival Netherese archwizards might have used to see if there are others out there. In Camarlenn of Hunabar's Musings on Magic Past, he spoke of a theory that the sharn fought the phaerimm because they were transformed Netherese." "That is what that source says, yes." Khelben said, with a nod. "Pray, continue." "I can't. I tried to find sources he referenced, but our students' library and those of five sages in the city didn't have any of the relevant writings. I did find out that Malek Aldhanek-the mage-historian Camarlenn studied-was the court wizard of the first Laeral, the ruler of Illuskan and the first Witch-Queen of the North. He died-oh, Horned Lady, no!" Tsarra interrupted herself as she heard and felt her ears fill with the roaring that heralded one of Danthra's visions. Tsarra fought against it, but the vision proved too strong. She dropped to the floor just as she lost consciousness. Again, she smelled things before the vision took hold: dust, mildew, the tang of new leather, and the smell of unwashed men in close-quarters.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

2 Ches, the Year of the Laughing Swan (816 DR) "Jhaurn, where is Lord Bladestroll right now?" Malek thundered at his aide as the wizard exited the tower's secret stairwell into the inner room of his sanctum. Jhaurn had been dozing by the fire, and his master's entrance startled him right from his chair. "Um, sorry, milord. Who were you looking for?" Jhaurn tried to compose himself and straighten his jerkin as he stood, not meeting the angry glare coming from Lord Aldhanek. Malek glowered at Jhaurn. "Lord Rutyk Bladestroll.

Baron of the Easting Marches. Tall man with a strange creature on his face he calls a beard." Jhaurn snorted then said, "I believe Lord Bladestroll is with our Lady Witch-Queen for a morning repast before departing to the Duke Zelhund's estates to the south. He should be with her now, as she hardly sleeps in, much like yourself, milord." A small bell on the fireplace mantel chimed three times. "Go through the passage, Jhaurn, and fetch Arms-Master Phommor and as many guards as can be mustered to the audience chamber. Tell him a coup is in progress and to protect Laeral," Malek said, smoothing his long black hair back after shrugging off his filthy cloak. "But Master, what about-?" "Go, boy, with one last lesson. Trusted advisors must also be slain when attempting to kill queens, but queens are always more important. We shall meet at the Griffon Throne. Now go!" Jhaurn hesitated only one last heartbeat and filled the archway to their chamber with sticky webs before he turned and opened the secret bookshelf door. "For a moment's more preparation time, Master." With that, he darted into the darkness, and Malek closed the door behind him. No noise from the outer room betrayed the assassins' presence, but Malek knew magic he did not share with any, even his queen.

Numerous spells lay within the tile floors of both chambers. He left the door less protected to avoid suspicion. Above the archway's keystone hung a mirror. It showed Malek the shape of the outer room and four intruders marked as glowing dots on its surface-a pair flanking each side of the doorway. A small flame jetted into the center of the webs and consumed them quickly. Malek concentrated and uttered some incantations. The first sounds of battle were the assassins' yelps of surprise as the stone wall and floor reached out to grab at them and hold them fast. Malek smiled and thought, Finally getting some use from my guardian enchantments. He stepped through the archway, clapping to activate the magical shields his rings provided.