He could not detect any evil or any invisible creatures beside himself. His last spell was merely guaranteed to counterspell the first magic cast upon him. The noiseless and invisible mage rose up into the curate's office. The room, like the library below, had light filtering in through theurglass skylights in the ceiling. Unlike the light below, the rectangular room glistened with refracted rainbows of colors on the wood paneled walls. The sparkles came from the eleven crystals hovering in mid-air among an arc of six tall wing-backed chairs, five of which had their backs to him. Four small gems, each about the size of his thumbnail, orbited the others with faster motions, and those were colored brown, umber, orange, and red. The other seven crystals were clear and as long and thick as the wizard's torso. The Nameless Chosen inadvertently spoke aloud in his astonishment, "Kiiratel'Uvaeranni…" Voices answered him from among the chairs. "Very good, Nameless One." "Approach us and sit." "Be quick-our time grows short." "Are we sure he's the one?" "He has ties and loyalties to us all. He is the one." The Nameless Chosen froze where he stood when an elf's hand appeared above the back of the nearest chair, beckoning him forward. Its skin was glistening and jet-black, and claws seemed to flex in and from its fingers like a stretching cat. The wizard pulled some iron, diamond dust, and an assortment of herbs from his belt pouch as he yelled out a quick spell. The magic wrapped each of the chairs in glowing chains, each link a handspan wide. Another chorus of dispassionate voices considered his actions. "Niyadra's Chains? He knows his elven spell-lore. Pity about his human patience." "I will not be bound." The chains on the far right chair dissolved with the sound of iron clanging on steel. "Of the five, his power alone can keep our secrets." "Power alone is not enough. Our sharing with the elf of Ardeep proved some cannot abide all secrets." "Aloevan's love and trust of history shattered with our secret. This one understands the past has many layers and many truths inside shells of deceit." "He is human, the starred one's gifts besides." "Human born of half-breed, true, but elf blood is his. He is worthy." During those retorts, the Nameless One maneuvered to the empty chair, the one the other five all faced. He dropped his invisibility spell as quickly as his jaw. He had recognized the voices as those of the high priests of the Pentad's temples, but they were not precisely whom he faced just then. They each looked like the priests in basic form and profile, but a glistening black slime covered them from foot to throat. What little flesh remained uncovered had darkened considerably. High Hammer Arnathus the dwarf had claws and fangs sprouting and disappearing in his prodigious beard, its russet-brown hair black and oily. Saarvip and Mijala Oakenstaff, the elves whose marriage mirrored those of their gods, held hands, and the wizard could not see where one black form ended and the other began. Magepriest Laume of Summersreach always had the kindest eyes, and they smiled on the wizard-all seventeen of them blinking about the gnome's body and face. The Chondathan woman he knew the least. She had only recently come to the Lorebinder's service, but he knew that Naarys the Morninglark had never before needed five hands to play a lap-harp. All five spoke in unison but alternated among themselves, as if they all shared the same mind. The wizard sat in shock as five of the massive crystals manifested each of the Pentad's holy symbols within their cores in blue and purple energy, underscoring the acceptance of their gods in the event. "We are in transition, Nameless Chosen, for the good of all." "Understand we are in no harm, nor pain, nor fear." "All your questions are answered in these crystals and our books." "Attend them, know them, guard them, and keep them safe and secret." "Our legacy must be kept but we guard others greater still." "Know we are not the first to make this transition, for we join many vanished waiting to be found later." "Among us are minds and souls of many peoples, all of us coming from realms falling." "Many have been lost to greed, ambition, or evil, and we protect those few who cling to their dreams."

"Redemption may come for all, but neither soon nor easily." "We enfold the lost, the missing, the dreaming, the worthy, and the bold." "Many are we but all are one in form and purpose, e'en if we forget that for a time." "Our guise and goal shall remain hidden until the lightning calls to us." "Wake us not to our old selves, as that is the task of that which destroyed us all-greed and power and guile and treachery."

"All our brethren are among us, the faithful of this place, but we waited to tell thee true things." "Thou art more than Mystra's Chosen-the Pentad Chooses thee as well." "We ask you to remember us and keep our works and secrets." "What you see here you may comprehend fully with study of our library and learn the secrets of lives and lores and labors long lost." "We shall await the time when we may be singular yet united." "We charge thee to ready the Realms for our return." "We all take Oacenth's Vow and Dragmar's Promise to heart."

"Until we meet again, we may redeem lives and reclaim lores lost where we find them, e'en if our actions match not our intent." "Until the world can accept our message, we remain hidden, even from ourselves."

"Dutiful one of secrets many, we honor and thank thee for thine service." "Fare thee well, honored son of five faiths." As they spoke, the priests seemed undisturbed as the black oil crept over their faces and into their open mouths, eyes, and noses. Once fully covered, the priests' forms began to shift and merge, regardless of initial height or breadth. Their individualities melted, and features, clothing, profiles, and limbs flowed together into shapeless jet that remained pinned to the chairs by the wizard's spell until a nimbus of purple light settled around them all. They disappeared with only the chuff of softly imploding air to mark their passage. The Nameless Chosen sat for five days and nights without movement, pondering what he had witnessed. He read what he could from sunlight and moonlight filtering through the seven meditative lore crystals-priceless artifacts from Uvaeren, the long-fallen realm of the elves. In his ruminations and trances, he learned from the patron gods of the Pentad. The priests of the Pentad were creatures that the Nameless One learned were called shiftshades, blackclaws, simmer shadows, skulkingdeaths, or the fhaorn'quessir, though most knew them as the sharn.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

29 Uktar, the Year of Lightning Storms (1374 DR) Tsarra shook her head to clear her eyesight, and she realized she was sprawled on the floor of the temple between the statue and Khelben. For the first time, there was no disorientation from the vision or any headache. She knew at least the general truth about the sharn. She also awoke angry, then realized it wasn't her rage as much as it was that of her tressym. The avian creature darted in and out, slashing at the sharn… or was it? The creature that batted away at Nameless wore the greasy black skin of the sharn and its limbs ended in the same elongated tri-arms with claws, but it stood on the four legs and body of a strong stallion and had a heavily muscled torso. It seemed more to be a silhouette of a centaur, save for its two oddly distended limbs. The creature advanced on Khelben, and the tressym looped around its front, hissing savagely to warn it off. She sent to the tressym, No, wait. I don't think he means harm. His reaction was to hiss again at the sharn and bare his claws as warning as he flew back to Tsarra. Dangersmell, predator, darkelder wounded, helpless prey! he sent to Tsarra as she stepped forward between the sharn and Khelben. She tried not to flinch when she saw her mentor collapsed on the marble floor. Silver flames and blood alike spilled from a large ragged hole in his robes where his left hip and torso met. Were he a normal man, Tsarra guessed he might have been either dead or, even with expert healers, hobbled for life. Khelben? Tsarra sent to her mentor through the kiira. Can you hear me? How badly are you hurt?