Regis remained silent. He had only attended the council to lend support to his spokesmen friends. When he took his seat at the table, he had no intentions of even actively participating in the discussions, let alone becoming the focal point of the defense plan.
And so the meeting adjourned. Cassius and Glensather exchanged knowing winks of success, for everyone left the room feeling a bit more optimistic.
Cassius held Regis back when he moved to leave with the others. The spokesman from Bryn Shander shut the door behind the last of them, desiring a private briefing with the principal character of the first stages of his plan.
“You could have spoken to me about all of this first!” Regis grumbled at the spokesman’s back as soon as the door was closed. “It seems only right that I should have been given the opportunity to make a decision in this matter!”
Cassius wore a grim visage as he turned to face the halfling. “What choice do any of us have?” he asked. “At least this way we have given them all some hope.”
“You overestimate me,” Regis protested.
“Perhaps you underestimate yourself,” Cassius said. Though the halfling realized that Cassius would not back away from the plan that he had set in motion, the spokesman’s confidence relayed an altruistic spirit to Regis that was genuinely comforting.
“Let us pray, for both our sakes, that the latter is the truth,” Cassius continued, moving to his seat at the table. “But I truly believe this to be the case. I have faith in you, even if you do not. I remember well what you did to Spokesman Kemp at the council five years ago, though it took his own declaration that he had been tricked to make me realize the truth of the situation. A masterful job of persuasion, Regis of Lonelywood, and moreso because it held its secret for so long!”
Regis blushed and conceded the point.
“And if you can deal with the stubborn likes of Kemp of Targos, you should find Akar Kessell easy prey!”
“I agree with your perceptions of Kessell as something less than a man of inner strength,” said Regis, “but wizards have a way of uncovering wizardlike tricks. And you forget the demon. I would not even attempt to deceive one of its kind!”
“Let us hope that you shall not have to deal with that one,” Cassius agreed with a visible shudder. “Yet I feel that you must go to the tower and try to dissuade the wizard. If we cannot somehow hold the gathered army at bay until its own inner turmoil becomes our ally, then we are surely doomed. Believe me, as I am your friend, that I would not ask you to journey into such peril if I saw any other possible path.” A pained look of helpless empathy had clearly worn through the spokesman’s earlier facade of rousing optimism. His concern touched Regis, as would a starving man crying out for food.
Even beyond his feelings for the overly pressured spokesman, Regis was forced to admit the logic of the plan and the absence of other avenues to explore. Kessell hadn’t given them much time to regroup after the initial attack. In the razing of Targos, the wizard had demonstrated his ability to likewise destroy Bryn Shander, and the halfling had little doubt that Kessell would carry out his vile threat.
So Regis came to accept his role as their only option. The halfling wasn’t easily spurred to action, but when he made up his mind to do something, he usually tried to do it properly.
“First of all,” he began, “I must tell you in the strictest of confidence that I do indeed have magical aid.” A glimmer of hope returned to Cassius’s eyes. He leaned forward, anxious to hear more, but Regis calmed him with an outstretched palm.
“You must understand however,” the halfling explained, “that I do not, as some tales claim, have the power to pervert what is in a person’s heart. I could not convince Kessell to abandon his evil path any more than I could convince Spokesman Kemp to make peace with Termalaine.” He rose from his cushioned chair and paced around the table, his hands clasped behind his back. Cassius watched him in uncertain anticipation, unable to figure out exactly what he was leading up to with his admission and then disclaimer of power.
“Sometimes, though, I do have a way of making someone view his surroundings from a different perspective,” Regis admitted. “Like the incident you have referred to, when I convinced Kemp that embarking upon a certain preferable course of action would actually help him to achieve his own aspirations.
“So tell me again, Cassius, all that you have learned about the wizard and his army. Let us see if we might discover a way to make Kessell doubt the very things that he has come to rely upon!”
The halfling’s eloquence stunned the spokesman. Even though he hadn’t looked Regis in the eye, he could see the promise of truth in the tales he had always presumed to be exaggerated.
“We know from the newsbearer that Kemp has taken command of the remaining forces of the four towns on Maer Dualdon,” Cassius explained. “Likewise, Jensin Brent and Schermont are poised upon Lac Dinneshere, and combined with the fleets on Redwaters, they should prove a powerful force indeed!
“Kemp has already vowed revenge, and I doubt if any of the other refugees entertain thoughts of surrender or fleeing.”
“Where could they go?” Regis muttered. He looked pitifully at Cassius, who had no words of comfort. Cassius had put on a show of confidence and hope for the others at the council and for the people in the town, but he could not look at Regis now and make hollow promises.
Glensather suddenly burst back into the room. “The wizard is back on the field!” he cried. “He has demanded our emissary—the lights on the tower have started again!”
The three rushed from the building, Cassius reiterating as much of the pertinent information as he could.
Regis silenced him. “I am prepared,” he assured Cassius. “I don’t know if this outrageous scheme of yours has any chance of working, but you have my vow that I’ll work hard to carry out the deception.”
Then they were at the gate. “It must work,” Cassius said, clapping Regis on the shoulder. “We have no other hope.” He started to turn away, but Regis had one final question that he needed answered.
“If I find that Kessell is beyond my power?” he asked grimly. “What am I to do if the deception fails?”
Cassius looked around at the thousands of women and children huddled against the chill wind in the city’s common grounds. “If it fails,” he began slowly, “if Kessell cannot be dissuaded from using the power of the tower against Bryn Shander,” he paused again, if only to delay having to hear himself utter the words, “you are then under my personal orders to surrender the city.”
Cassius turned away and headed for the parapets to witness the critical confrontation. Regis didn’t hesitate any longer, for he knew that any pause at this frightening juncture would probably cause him to change his mind and run to find a hiding place in some dark hole in the city. Before he even had the chance to reconsider, he was through the gate and boldly marching down the hill toward the waiting specter of Akar Kessell.
Kessell had again appeared between two mirrors borne by trolls, standing with arms crossed and one foot tapping impatiently. The evil scowl on his face gave Regis the distinct impression that the wizard, in a fit of uncontrollable rage, would strike him dead before he even reached the bottom of the hill. Yet the halfling had to keep his eyes focused on Kessell to even continue his approach. The wretched trolls disgusted and revulsed him beyond anything he had ever encountered, and it took all of his willpower to move anywhere near them. Even from the gate, he could smell the foul odor of their rotting stench.
But somehow he made it to the mirrors and stood facing the evil wizard.
Kessell studied the emissary for quite a while. He certainly hadn’t expected a halfling to represent the city and wondered why Cassius hadn’t come personally to such an important meeting. “Do you come before me as the official representative of Bryn Shander and all who now reside within her walls?”
Regis nodded. “I am Regis of Lonelywood,” he answered, “a friend to Cassius and former member of the Council of T
en. I have been appointed to speak for the people within the city.”
Kessell’s eyes narrowed in anticipation of his victory. “And do you bear their message of unconditional surrender?”
Regis shuffled uneasily, purposely shifting so that the ruby pendant would start into motion on his chest. “I desire private council with thee, mighty wizard, that we might discuss the terms of the agreement.”
Kessell’s eyes widened. He looked at Cassius upon the wall. “I said unconditional!” he shrieked. Behind him, the lights of Cryshal-Tirith began to swirl and grow. “Now you shall witness the folly of your insolence!”
“Wait!” pleaded Regis, jumping around to regain the wizard’s attention. “There are some things that you should be aware of before all is decided!”
Kessell paid little attention to the halfling’s rambling, but the ruby pendant suddenly caught his attention. Even through the protection offered by the distance between his physical body and the window of his image projection, he found the gem fascinating.
Regis couldn’t resist the urge to smile, though only slightly, when he realized that the eyes of the wizard no longer blinked. “I have some information that I am sure you will find valuable,” the halfling said quietly.
Kessell signaled for him to continue.
“Not here,” Regis whispered. “There are too many curious ears about. Not all of the gathered goblins would be pleased to hear what I have to say!”
Kessell considered the halfling’s words for a moment. He felt curiously subdued for some reason that he couldn’t yet understand. “Very well, halfling,” he agreed. “I shall hear your words.” With a flash and a puff of smoke, the wizard was gone.
Regis looked back over his shoulder at the people on the wall and nodded.
Under telepathic command from within the tower, the trolls shifted the mirrors to catch Regis’s reflection. A second flash and puff of smoke, and Regis, too, was gone.
On the wall, Cassius returned the halfling’s nod, though Regis had already disappeared. The spokesman breathed a bit easier, comforted by the last look Regis had thrown him and by the fact that the sun was setting and Bryn Shander still stood. If his guess, based on the timing of the wizard’s actions, was correct, Cryshal-Tirith drew most of its energy from the light of the sun.
It appeared that his plan had bought them at least one more night.
Even through his bleary eyes, Drizzt recognized the dark shape that hovered over him. The drow had banged his head when he had been thrown from the scimitar’s hilt and Guenhwyvar, his loyal companion, had kept a silent vigil throughout the long hours the drow had remained unconscious, even though the cat had also been battered in the fight with Errtu.
Drizzt rolled into a sitting position and tried to reorient himself to his surroundings. At first he thought that dawn had come, but then he realized that the dim sunlight was coming from the west. He had been out for the better part of a day, drained completely, for the scimitar had sapped his vital energy in its battle with the demon.
Guenhwyvar looked even more haggard. The cat’s shoulder hung limp from its collision with the stone wall, and Errtu had torn a deep cut into one of its forelegs.
More than injuries, though, fatigue was wearing on the magical beast. It had overstayed the normal limits of its visit to the material plane by many hours. The cord between its home plane and the drow’s was only kept intact by the cat’s own magical energy, and each passing minute that it remained in this world drew away a bit of its strength.
Drizzt stroked the muscled neck tenderly. He understood the sacrifice Guenhwyvar had made for his sake, and he wished that he could comply with the cat’s needs and send it back to its own world.
But he could not. If the cat returned to its own plane, it would be hours before it would regain the strength required to reestablish a link back to this world. And he needed the cat now.
“A bit longer,” he begged. The faithful beast lay down beside him without any hint of protest. Drizzt looked upon it with pity and petted the neck once again. How he longed to release the cat from his service! Yet he could not.
From what Errtu had told him, the door to Cryshal-Tirith was invisible only to beings of the Material Plane.
Drizzt needed the cat’s eyes.
egis rubbed the after-image of the blinding flash out of his eyes and found himself again facing the wizard. Kessell lounged on a crystal throne, leaning back against one of its arms with his legs casually thrown over the other. They were in a squared room of crystal, giving a slick visual impression, but feeling as solid as stone. Regis knew immediately that he was inside the tower. The room was filled with dozens of ornate and strangely shaped mirrors. One of these in particular, the largest and most decorative, caught the halfling’s eye, for a fire was ablaze within its depths. At first Regis looked opposite the mirror, expecting to see the source of the image, but then he realized that the flames were not a reflection but an actual event occurring within the dimensions of the mirror itself.
“Welcome to my home,” the wizard laughed. “You should consider yourself fortunate to witness its splendor!” But Regis fixed his gaze upon Kessell, studying the wizard closely, for the tone of his voice did not resemble the characteristic slur of others he had entranced with the ruby.
“You’ll forgive my surprise when first we met,” Kessell continued. “I did not expect the sturdy men of Ten-Towns to send a halfling to do their work!” He laughed again, and Regis knew that something had disrupted the charm he had cast upon the wizard when they were outside.
The halfling could guess what had happened. He could feel the throbbing power of this room; it was evident that Kessell fed off of it. With his psyche outside, the wizard had been vulnerable to the magic of the gemstone, but in here his strength was quite beyond the ruby’s influence.
“You said that you had information to tell me,” Kessell demanded suddenly. “Speak now, the whole of it, or I shall make your death an unpleasant one!”
Regis stuttered, trying to improvise an alternative tale. The insidious lies he had planned to weave would have little value on the unaffected wizard. In fact, in their obvious weaknesses they might reveal much of the truth about Cassius’s strategies.
Kessell straightened on his throne and leaned over the halfling, imposing his gaze upon his counterpart. “Speak!” he commanded evenly.
Regis felt an iron will insinuating itself into all of his thoughts, compelling him to obey Kessell’s every command. He sensed that the dominating force wasn’t emanating from the wizard, though. Rather it seemed to be coming from some external source, perhaps the unseen object that the wizard occasionally clutched in a pocket of his robes.
Those of halfling stock possessed a strong natural resistance to such magic, however, and a countering force—the gemstone—helped Regis fight back against the insinuating will and gradually push it away. A sudden idea came over Regis. He had certainly seen enough individuals fall under his own charms to be able to imitate their revealing posture. He slouched a bit, as though he had suddenly been put completely at ease, and focused his blank stare on an image in the corner of the room beyond Kessell’s shoulder. He felt his eyes drying out, but he resisted the temptation to blink.
“What information do you desire?” he responded mechanically.
Kessell slumped back again confidently. “Address me as Master Kessell,” he ordered.
“What information do you desire, Master Kessell?”
“Good,” the wizard smirked to himself. “Admit the truth, halfling, the story you were sent to tell me was a deception.”
Why not? Regis thought. A lie flavored with the sprinklings of truth becomes that much stronger. “Yes,” he answered. “To make you think that your truest allies plotted against you.”
“And what was the purpose?” Kessell pressed, quite pleased with himself. “Surely the people of Bryn Shander know that I could easily crush them even without any allies at all. It seems a feeble plan to me.”
/> “Cassius had no intentions of trying to defeat you, Master Kessell,” Regis said.
“Then why are you here? And why didn’t Cassius simply surrender the city as I demanded?”
“I was sent to plant some doubts,” replied Regis, blindly improvising to keep Kessell intrigued and occupied. Behind the facade of his words, he was trying to put together some kind of an alternate plan. “To give Cassius more time to lay out his true course of action.”
Kessell leaned forward. “And what might that course of action be?”
Regis paused, searching for an answer.
“You cannot resist me!” Kessell roared. “My will is too great! Answer or I shall tear the truth from your mind!”
“To escape,” Regis blurted, and after he had said it, several possibilities opened up before him.
Kessell reclined again. “Impossible,” he replied casually. “My army is too strong at every point for the humans to break through.”
“Perhaps not as strong as you believe, Master Kessell,” Regis baited. His path now lay clear before him. A lie within another lie. He liked the formula.
“Explain,” Kessell demanded, a shadow of worry clouding his cocky visage.
“Cassius has allies within your ranks.”
The wizard leaped from his chair, trembling in rage. Regis marveled at how effectively his simple imitation was working. He wondered for an instant if any of his own victims had likewise reversed the dupe on him. He put the disturbing thought away for future contemplation.
“Orcs have lived among the people of Ten-Towns for many months now,” Regis went on. “One tribe actually opened up a trading relationship with the fishermen. They, too, answered your summons to arms, but they still hold loyalties, if any of their kind ever truly hold loyalties, to Cassius. Even as your army was entrenching in the field around Bryn Shander, the first communications were exchanged between the orc chieftain and orc messengers that slipped out of Bryn Shander.”