"What can they see, Olorn, but shadows, doors, chambers, and walls? What is there to learn that can hurt any of us?" Amdramnar answered, adding lightly, "What cards you still held in your hand, perhaps?"
There were chuckles from several Malaugrym, and Olorn's eyes turned flat, dark, and dangerous. "You've gone too far," he said softly, "and have become a traitor to our people. I must do what Dhalgrave no longer can. Die, traitor!"
A forest of tentacles shot forward, only to vanish in a welter of gore about halfway to Amdramnar, writhing and disintegrating in a mist of blood. Olorn screamed and staggered back, hauling away what was left of his rubbery arms. They left a trail of glistening gore to where he whimpered against a wall.
"You don't learn, do you?" Amdramnar asked incredulously. "Did you not see my blades? Did you actually think me so weak or careless a mage that I'd have to dispel them in order to raise a barrier against you? Nay, I just made them invisible, you dolt. I should finish you."
He gestured as if to move the invisible blades closer to Olorn, but that worthy Malaugrym was dwindling and flattening, air whistling out of him from twenty places in his haste to flow out the door at the back of the hall. Amdramnar took a pace forward as if to pursue him, but other Malaugrym shook their heads and closed ranks to block his route.
"No, Amdramnar," one elder said. "I care nothing for your quarrel, but I'll see no kin slain in the very halls of our castle, fighting over custody of mortals! Keep better watch over your humans in future. If they wander, troubles are bound to befall."
"I bow to your wisdom, Cortar," the young Malaugrym replied, "and I'll see to their whereabouts." He withdrew a few paces, and the rainbow barrier fell away around him.
Several Malaugrym started forward from the walls, but Amdramnar said merrily. " 'Ware the blades-remember?"
They came to abrupt halts and glared at him, and he recognized at least two of Olorn's cronies among their ranks. He gave them soft smiles that held deadly promise as he put an arm around Sharantyr's shoulders-she gave him a glare almost as black as Olorn's had been, evoking more chuckles from the watchers around the walls-and nudged Belkram with his foot.
The Harper rolled over with a groan. "Ye gods and little ground-snails," he gasped, "I think something in my shoulder's broken. It burns like fire!"
"Crawl over to Itharr for me, will you?" Amdramnar asked him. "We'd best get gone speedily. You somehow wandered into the Hall of Stars, where our mages practice spell-hurling!"
"We're going to talk, later," Belkram promised him grimly, wobbling to his feet. Shar laid a hand on his arm, and through it he heard Sylune say, There's a ring to heal you in her boot, remember. Hang on and do as the shape-shifter bids.
By your command, Belkram told her mockingly, and began the painful journey to where Itharr knelt, clutching at his forehead, blood still streaming down his fingers. "How are we, old blade?" Belkram asked, collapsing beside him.
'Chairs… chairs are beating the soft stuff out of me," Itharr grunted. "The head on the left hurts the most."
"Up, lad. We can stagger off to the graveyard together," Belkram said tenderly, rising and hauling Itharr to his feet by main strength.
"Where's a quiet place we can go?" Sharantyr asked Amdramnar.
"My chambers, of course."
"No, Amdramnar," she said quietly. "Not now."
The Shadowmaster's head swung around, and their eyes met for a long moment. Then he looked away.
"Out this door," he said, "and then through here."
He led them quickly out into a passage and through the first door they saw into a staircase. They went up a flight to another door, across a hall, and through a dusty room full of shrouded human skeletons. They passed through another door into a dank, dark corridor choked with rubble, thence into some sort of storeroom full of huge casks. Amdramnar led them right through the last, false, cask into a small chamber that he lit by making the end of one finger flame until he found a dusty candle lamp. The room was crowded with small, cobwebbed tables, and Belkram promptly rolled Itharr onto one of them.
"Rest here," the Shadowmaster said. "I'll come back for you." He turned to go, then turned back. "Would you like me to work any healing magic before I go? Itharr's head looks pretty bad… and your ear."
Take his healing, Sylune said in Shar's mind, for yourself only, no matter how selfish it makes you look. Act aroused.
"Heal me," Sharantyr said in low tones, putting out her hand. "Then I can tend my companions with a clear head. Later, when you come back, they'll probably be in need of sleep. And then…"
Quite deliberately she reached behind her and set Mystra's sword on a table. Then she put her freed hand to her lips, and licked one finger while she looked steadily at him.
Their eyes met again… and slowly, very slowly, Amdramnar smiled. In spite of herself, Shar felt a stirring within her.
He nodded and turned away, murmuring something and making an intricate series of gestures and passes in the air with his fingertips. Then he turned back, extending one finger to touch her ear as gently as possible.
He's added a glamer to make you want him, Sylune told her, a moment before warmth flooded through her and the pain melted away.
"Ohhh, yes," she murmured, and melted against him, turning her cheek to rub against the arm that had healed her. His skin had a strange acrid, spicy scent, but she licked at his fingers avidly, purring deep in her throat.
When she looked hungrily up at him again, she saw laughter and triumph in his eyes. "I'll be back," he said "Soon."
"If you're quite finished sticking your tongue in his ear, Shar," Belkram roared, "I need you to hold the other end of this. Itharr's still bleeding!"
"I'll have spells that bring slumber," Amdramnar murmured, and was gone out the door.
Sharantyr leaned against it and trembled. I hope you can do something about that glamer, she told Sylune, or I'm going to be a breeding maiden for shapeshifters… and love it!
I already have, little kitten, Sylune's voice told her mockingly. You did most of the warm and caressing play all by yourself.
Sharantyr growled as she reached for her boot.
"Now what're you playing at?" Belkram snarled. "I'm sure yon Malaugrym'll like you just fine with your boots on!"
Through a wild web of disheveled hair, Sharantyr gave him her best glare-and overbalanced. She fell over helplessly, boot half off, to land hard on her behind. Belkram hooted with laughter as she rolled angrily onto her back to remove the boot.
"He cast a lust-glamer on me, if you must know," she hissed, shaking her boot at him. Then she lifted the sole and snatched the ring she needed, holding it up into his face. "Put this on Itharr. Then when he feels right, wear it yourself."
"This the one that regenerates?"
"Yes," Shar told him, stamping her boot back on, "and hurry! I want to be gone from here before ardent Amdramnar gets back!"
"He'll have put some sort of locking spell on the door, you know," Belkram said warningly.
"Then our secret weapon'll blast a hole through the wall!" Sharantyr hissed.
That won't be necessary. Sylune sounded amused. There's a secret door at the back of this room that opens into the castle library.
"The Malaugrym have a library? I'll bet Elminster would give his beard to sit down at leisure and read his way through it," Shar said aloud.
Belkram snorted. "Read it? He probably wrote most of it!" He watched Itharr's bleeding stop, and the gash on the burly Harper's forehead begin to fade. "Sylune's looked around for us?"
"Hush!" Shar told him severely. Touch and hold him, Sylune told her. So Sharantyr walked to Belkram, put her arms around him, and kissed him.