Resurrection (18 page)

"What is it, Archmage?" asked Prath, excitement in his voice. "Have you found it?"

"Silence," Nauzhror admonished the apprentice, though the Master's voice too betrayed a certain eagerness.

Gromph shook his head. He saw nothing out of the ordinary, but…

The spider golem!

His scrying eye did not show it as magical, yet it should have detected as such-strongly-unless the Agrach Dyrr priestesses had replaced the former golem with a normal statue. He deemed that unlikely.

An excited charge ran through him. He caused the scrying eye to draw nearer to the golem until its image filled the viewing crystal. He pored over it, inch by inch. Was it standing atop a secret panel in the floor? He cast another series of divinations, attempting to get even an inkling of whether or not the golem's magic was being masked.

At first he met with no success, but he persisted.

Finally, and for only an instant, he caught a flash of a faint red glow, like light squeezed from under a closed door. In that single instant, the golem flared in his sight, as befitted the latent magic that would animate it, but a still brighter glow flared from
within
the golem.

Nauzhror smiled, Prath gasped, and Gromph could not contain a chuckle.

"The golem," Nauzhror breathed.

The Master of Sorcere sounded as exhausted as Gromph, though he had done nothing other than observe.

"The golem is masked," Gromph said, nodding. He could not believe the lichdrow's temerity.

"The
golem
is the phylactery?" Prath asked.

Gromph studied the construct for a while longer, confirming his suspicion with a series of spells.

When he finished, he said, "No, but the phylactery is embedded within it."

Despite the evidence they had seen in the crystal, Prath and Nauzhror's faces showed disbelief.

"Within the temple's guardian golem?" Prath said. "It is heresy."

"It is ingenious," Nauzhror countered.

Gromph agreed. The lichdrow, a male, had not only hidden his phylactery within House Dyrr's temple of Lolth, he had hidden it within the body of the temple's most powerful guardian. Gromph had located it only because he had known the spider sculpture to be a golem that
should
have glowed in his magic-detecting sight. That it had not had caused him to look more closely, and he still had almost missed it.

With a slight exertion of will, Gromph let the image in the scrying crystal fade. It moved to gray, then to black.

The archmage leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head. His entire body ached, his temples pounded, and sweat soaked him. Unfortunately, he could not take time to recover. Getting through the anti-scrying wards and finding the phylactery had been the easier of his two tasks. Next he had to get himself physically into House Agrach Dyrr, into Lolth's temple, and destroy first the golem, then the phylactery.

"You should rest first, Archmage," Nauzhror said, reading his expression and knowing what would come next.

Gromph picked up his chalice and gulped another mouthful of wine. Enough. He did not want a light head when he assaulted House Agrach Dyrr.

"There is no time," he said. "Yasraena or her daughters may happen upon the phylactery. It will be easier to take out of the golem than it will be to take from Matron Mother Dyrr's hands."

Nauzhror could not help but nod agreement with that. He asked, "When, then?"

"Within the hour," Gromph replied and blew out a tired sigh.

Prath and Nauzhror digested that. Gromph closed his eyes and tried to still the pounding in his head.

"The wards will be challenging," Prath said at last.

Nauzhror backhanded Prath across his mouth and snapped, "The archmage is aware of the challenges, apprentice."

The rebuke drew blood. Prath sank back in his chair, daubing his broken lip. His eyes burned, but he said nothing. Gromph was pleased to see the anger in Prath's face.

Gromph
was
aware of the challenges. He had just seen them; they all had.

An intricate network of wards, an altogether different layer of protections at least as complex as those he had just bypassed, would attempt to prevent his physical entrance into the fortress. The combined power of all of the mages of House Xorlarrin had so far been unable to breach those wards. Gromph was no mere Xorlarrin wizard, of course, but neither was the second layer of wards likely to prove as easy to bypass as the anti-scrying protections.

And triggering a ward while he was physically present put him at risk for injury and death, not merely detection. He remembered well the glaring red glow of the spell traps.

"Shall I accompany you, Archmage?" asked Nauzhror.

"No," Gromph replied, and massaged his temples. "I have other plans for you two. You, Nauzhror, are to stay within my offices and help me attempt to scry House Agrach Dyrr."

Nauzhror's fat face pinched in a question. "Help you scry? You did exactly that. What do you mean?"

Gromph eyed Prath, who also looked confused.

"I mean," Gromph said, "that I will be in two places at once, Master Nauzhror."

Gromph let his words hang in the air without further explanation.

After only a moment, realization showed on Nauzhror's face.

"Prath will remain here in your guise," the Master of Sorcere said.

"Yes," Gromph affirmed. "And I in his, at least for a time. You will remain here too, Nauzhror, as though assisting me with my divinations."

Prath's expression showed understanding but also a question. "Why the ruse, Archmage?" he asked. "Yasraena and her mages cannot scry into your office. No one can."

"No," Gromph agreed, "but no doubt she is trying. She knows I must move against her House, and she will want to know when I am coming. We will mislead her. You and I will change forms to appear as the other. I will decrease the power of the wards around my office enough to allow Yasraena and her wizards to finally get through. When she does, she will see Gromph and Nauzhror attempting to scry House Agrach Dyrr, as though in preparation for an attack yet to come. The actual attack, however, will already have begun."

Nauzhror smiled.

"Very clever, Archmage," he said. "Might it not be easier, however, for
me
to take your form?"

Gromph had expected as much from Nauzhror. He eyed the master coolly and said, "I think not. And be careful, Nauzhror, lest I find your eagerness to sit in my chair unseemly."

Nauzhror's eyes found the floor. "I meant no presumption, Archmage," he explained. "I merely thought that I might be better able to mimic you than would an apprentice."

Gromph decided to let the matter rest. He had made his point to Nauzhror. "Prath will serve. Besides, having you, a Master of Sorcere, assisting me will further the deception."

Nauzhror accepted that with a submissive nod.

The archmage rose from his chair and said, "Time is short. Let us begin."

With that, Gromph removed his magical robes and the most well-known of his magical trinkets, including the ring worn only by the Archmage of Menzoberranzan. Nauzhror watched the ring slip from Gromph's finger with poorly disguised hunger.

Prath too rose and stripped himself of clothes and gear.

Presently, Gromph stood in the overlarge
piwafwi,
robes, and other accoutrements of an apprentice wizard, and Prath was in those
of the Archmage of Menzoberranzan.

"They may fit you someday," he said to Prath.

The apprentice blanched. "Mine do not fit
you," he said, embarrassed.

Gromph almost laughed, thinking of how he must look. He had not been so humbly attired in centuries.

He looked to Nauzhror, indicated Prath, and said, "Master Nauzhror."

Nauzhror nodded and spoke the words to a minor glamor. When he finished the incantation, an illusionary image of Prath took shape beside the actual apprentice, a magical portrait to serve as a frame of reference.

"An excellent likeness," Prath observed.

Gromph agreed. He opened a lower drawer of his desk and withdrew a scroll scribed with one of his most powerful spells. To Prath, he said, "Apprentice, should you err in the casting of this spell, it could have most unfortunate results."

The archmage would have cast the spell on Prath himself, but the magic could affect only the caster. Prath would have to do it himself.

Gromph continued, "After completing the incantation, look upon me and will yourself to take my form. The spell will do the rest."

Prath took the scroll in a hand that, to his credit, did not shake. He unfurled the parchment, studied the words, looked once more at Gromph and Nauzhror, and at their nods, began to cast.

Gromph listened with care to the apprentice's pronunciation of the words. To Gromph's satisfaction, Prath read with confidence. When Prath pronounced the last word, the scroll crumbled in his grasp and his body started to change.

"The sensation is not painful," Prath said, his voice already changing.

Prath's body thinned, his eyes sank deeper into their orbits, his hair grew longer, and his eyes changed from his own crimson to Gromph's blood red. Prath studied Gromph's features as the magic wrought its change, mentally shaping the transmutation. The magic of the spell filled in the necessary details and after only ten heartbeats, Gromph was looking upon his double.

"Well done," Gromph said to Prath.

The apprentice beamed.

"In my uppermost right inner pocket is a jade circlet," Gromph said to Prath, nodding at his robe. "Give it to me."

Gromph would need the component to cast the same spell on himself, not from a scroll, but from his memory.

Prath reached into the pocket of the archmage's robes, found the circlet, and handed it to Gromph.

Gromph placed it on his head, and spoke the words and made the gestures that would allow him to assume any form he wished. When the magic took effect, a tingle ran through his flesh. His skin grew malleable and at the same time somehow thickened, like wax.

Using the illusionary image of Prath as a model, Gromph caused the magic to morph his body and features into those of Prath. Gromph felt no pain throughout, merely a strange sense of his flesh flowing. When he felt his body solidify, he knew the transformation was complete. The spell's magic would continue for several hours, during which Gromph could call upon the spell to transform him into virtually any shape he desired.

"It is done, Archmage," Nauzhror said, studying him. "The likeness is nearly exact."

Nauzhror dispelled the illusory image of Prath.

Gromph nodded. To Prath, he said, "The remainder of my components, apprentice."

Prath mumbled acquiescence, reached into the magical pockets of Gromph's robe, pulled esoterica out of the extra-dimensional spaces in the pockets of Gromph's robes, and set it all on the desktop. Among the items was the soul-stealing duergar axe. Shadows swirled along its head, suggesting faces, implying screams.

Gromph took the multitude of components and secreted them in his robes. He took the axe too, and hung it from his belt. It felt heavy at his waist, but he had no extradimensional pocket in Prath's robes in which to carry its weight.

He reached into another drawer in his desk and withdrew several potions, a scroll, and a milky-colored ocular on a silver chain-looking through the ocular would allow Gromph to see through certain types of illusions. He also removed several wands, all of them of bone, all of them capped with the petrified eye of a keen-eyed slave. Having cast so many of his own spells, he would need the ocular's and the wands' powers to supplement his repertory.

When he had everything he needed and had organized it to his satisfaction, he looked to Prath and gestured at his high-backed, bone chair.

"Take your seat, ur-Archmage," he said with a smile.

With obvious reluctance, Prath stepped around the desk and sank into Gromph's chair.

"No hesitation, and no reluctance," Gromph admonished him. "Yasraena will see it. Until I return, you
are
the Archmage of Menzoberranzan."

Prath looked Gromph in the face, set his jaw, and nodded.

Gromph then had only one thing more to do.

Though Nauzhror and Prath were both Baenre, Gromph knew better than to rely on familial ties to assure obedience. He needed to instill fear. Once he entered House Agrach Dyrr, he would be vulnerable to an easy betrayal. Nauzhror, and perhaps even Prath, would be tempted to do so unless Gromph made the cost of failure higher than the benefit of success. A simple lie would do.

"Other than you two, I have shared this plan via a sending with only Master Mizzrym," Gromph said. "In the event that I fail, I have ensured that Pharaun will alert Matron Mother Triel and investigate the causes of the failure very carefully."

Neither Nauzhror nor Prath uttered a word. Gromph's message was clear-betrayal would be punished, and harshly, even if Gromph was dead.

Nauzhror said, "Yasraena will never be aware of the deception."