"To what end?" one of the others asked.

"The assassination," Malvag said slowly, "of another god."

All eyes were locked on him. "Which one?" one of the Nightshadows asked.

"Corellon Larethian." Malvag let his smile crinkle the corners of his eyes. "The death of the lord of the Seldarine should give the army of Myth Drannor pause, don't you agree?"

The Nightshadows exchanged excited glances. Jezz, however, slowly shook his head. "Let me get this straight," he said. "You want to open a gate between Vhaeraun's domain and Arvandor?"

Malvag nodded.

"A gate that might very well work in the reverse direction to the one you describe, allowing the Seldarine to invade Vhaeraun's domain, instead of the other way around." He shifted his weight, favoring his crippled leg. One hand drifted near the hilt of his kukri. "This makes me wonder which god you really do serve."

Eyes darted back and forth between Jezz and Malvag. The other males drew slightly apart from the sorcerer, giving him room for whatever treachery he planned.

Malvag made no move. "What do you mean?"

"You're neither Jaelre nor Auzkovyn. You appeared among us a year ago from out of nowhere, claiming to be from the south, around the same time that the demon-thing started slaughtering our people. Now you propose something which, assuming it is possible, may very well be the death of the Masked Lord. I ask again, which god do you really serve?"

Malvag stood utterly still, not making any threatening moves. "They should have called you Jezz the Suspicious," he drawled, "not Jezz the Lame."

One of the males from House Auzkovyn chuckled softly.

Jezz's eyes narrowed still further. "I think you're a spider kisser."

Eyes widened. Malvag heard several sharp intakes of breath.

"You call me a traitor?" he whispered. "You think me a servant of Lolth?" He curled the fingers of his right hand then suddenly flipped it palm-up. The sign for a dead spider. "This, for the spider bitch. If I worship her, may she strike me dead for blaspheming."

As nervous chuckles filled the air, Malvag added, "I'm a loyal servant of Vhaeraun-a shadow in the Night Above-as are all of you." He paused. "Well… almost all of you," he added, his glance lingering on Jezz's naked face.

He held it for several moments then tore his gaze away. "Some of us, it seems, think Corellon Larethian too high a mark for the Masked Lord to aim for," he told the others, giving Jezz the kind of disdainful glance one would reserve for a coward, "so let me propose an alternative. Instead of Arvandor, we'll use the scroll to open a gate to Eilistraee's domain." He chuckled. "Wouldn't it be a wonderful turnabout if the Masked Lord took Eilistraee down? Her priestesses have stolen enough of our people in recent years. I think it's Vhaeraun's turn to take the lead in that dance. Permanently."

Low laughter greeted his joke.

Jezz glared. "This is not a laughing matter. You're talking about tampering with the domains of the gods."

"True," Malvag said, his expression serious once more, "which is why I came prepared to show how serious I am about this. Realizing that some might be… reluctant to tackle Arvandor, I began my preparations for opening a gate to Eilistraee's domain instead."

He reached behind his head and untied his mask. Lifting it from his face, he held it high. Then he gave it a savage twist, as if wringing water from it. A faint but sharp sound filled the hollow tree: a female voice, screaming.

He relaxed the twist in the fabric. "A soul," he explained, "trapped by soultheft and held there still."

The other clerics' eyes widened. Malvag could tell they were impressed. Most Nightshadows could hold a soul within their masks for only a moment or two. "You may have heard of the attack on the shrine at Lake Sember five nights ago?"

Heads nodded.

Jezz looked impressed. Fleetingly.

"You mean to tell us you've got the soul of a priestess of Eilistraee trapped in there?" asked one of the Auzkovyn-a thin man whose protruding nose creased the fabric of his mask into a tent shape. His breathing was light and fast, his eyes wide.

"What better tool for opening a gate to her domain?" Malvag asked. "As some of you may already know, the working of high magic demands a price. Better we fuel it with this-" he fluttered the mask gently-"than with our own souls, wouldn't you agree?"

Smiles crinkled the eyes of the other Nightshadows as they laughed at his wry joke.

"I can teach you to do the same, to hold a soul in your mask until you are ready to spend its energy," Malvag told them. "When each of us has gathered this necessary focus, we will meet again to work the spell." He retied the mask around his face. "Through soultheft, each of you will have the fuel needed to work high magic." He met the eyes of each male in turn. "The only question remaining is, do you have the faith?"

The Nightshadows were silent for several moments. The eyes behind the masks were thoughtful.

All but those of the House Jaelre leader. "Assuming this scroll of yours really exists, there's a flaw in your plan," Jezz said. "In order to create a gate, the caster has to enter the plane that is the gate's destination. As soon as one of you enters the domain of another god-be it Eilistraee's domain or Arvandor-the element of surprise is lost."

"That would be true," Malvag admitted, "except that this spell will allow us to open a gate between two domains from a distance-from a location on Toril."

"Nonsense," Jezz scoffed. "That would require more power than you possess. The combined efforts of a hundred clerics. A thousand."

"What if I told you I know of something that will augment the magic of each cleric participating in the spell a hundredfold?" he asked. "Perhaps even a thousandfold." He paused. "There is a cavern, deep in the Underdark," he told the Nightshadows, "a cavern lined with darkstone crystals, and thus a perfect vehicle for the Masked Lord's magic. It lies at the center of an earth node of incredible power-something that will boost our magic to the levels we need to work the spell."

"And this cavern?" Jezz demanded. "Where is it, exactly? Or is that something you're not prepared to share with us?" He glanced at the others, then back at Malvag. "Perhaps because it, like the 'ancient scroll' you've told us about, doesn't exist."

Malvag carefully hid his delight. He could not have scripted Jezz's comments better himself. "On the contrary," he countered. "Those who choose to join me will be shown both the cavern-and the scroll-this very night. I'll teleport them there."

The word hung in the air. "Them." Not "you."

Jezz glared at Malvag, then stared around at the others, slowly shaking his head. "You trust him?" A scornful word, in the mouth of a drow.

Eyes shifted from Jezz to Malvag and back again.

"Then you're fools," Jezz said. "Anyone with eyes can see that this is a ploy to thin the ranks of the faithful, so this newcomer can rise to a more prominent position. He'll teleport you into a cavern filled with sickstone, or somewhere equally unhealthy, and abandon you there."

His words hung in the air for several moments.

The Nightshadows shuffled, glancing at one another. One of the House Jaelre males, a large fellow with close-cropped hair and an old burn scar on his right hand, at last broke the silence. "I'm in," he grunted from behind his mask. He moved to Malvag's side.

Jezz merely snorted. Without further comment he turned on his heel and strode out into the night. Two of the males from House Jaelre immediately followed. The remaining male from that House who had not yet declared himself glanced sidelong at the Auzkovyn, as if waiting to see what they would do.

One of the Auzkovyn glanced at his fellows, shook his head, then also left.