?I have had enough of waiting.? announced the demon mage, Dar-Karow. Over the course of the argument, his words had grown clipped. Candles burned low upon the council table in Rhilshen Fortress; outside, the moon climbed a cloudless night sky. ?I am sick to death of waiting! You may be inclined to trust in providence, Javan, but I am not. You are not biding your time, you are procrastinating, and she will suffer for it. She is a prisoner in a declared sorceror?s war. Have you even begin to investigate? Does this not concern you?!? He slammed his hands down on the table for emphasis.

Javan calmly held the demon?s burning gaze. ?Obviously, it does concern me. I?ll forgive your words knowing that you are upset and still mourning your own losses, Dar, but I still can?t believe that whatever happened does not figure somehow into some design of hers. Alys is strong enough that this shouldn?t have happened by accident.?

?Alysia is not all powerful. You are a purblind fool if it did not occur to you that even the mighty may be caught unaware,? Dar growled. He ran his hands over his shaven scalp in distress. ?I hold this Bloodline to be of greater personal importance than the realm, but if you will not look at this as a matter of extreme urgency to the clan, consider this. What is weeks there is months here, and she has not made a public appearance in Rhilshen for months. This has not gone unnoticed. The curs of the realm grow snappish with discontent. It is time to send the Bloodguard to find her and exact retribution upon her captor, or it is time to give up and announce the Emperialle has been lost and allow claimants for the throne to swarm Aeshelm.?

?You?re mad. A sorceror?s war is a private matter.? Javan made a curt, dismissive gesture with his hand. ?And the state of unrest of which you speak hasn?t gone unnoticed either. However, the minor nobles won?t do more than show their teeth - unless they know that the Emperialle is gone, and then, then all Hell will break loose in the realm. Be patient, Dar, and trust her. Alys won?t forgive us for interfering in her plans.?

?Javan, I don?t think it was planned,? interjected Chryrie. The moredhel-fae stood as she spoke. From her appearance, it was obvious she had been sleeping little; indeed, she had been spending hours poring over old journals and many of the more esoteric tomes in the libraries at Rhilshen Fortress and at Alysia?s retreat in Sethil. ?Somehow, Veighn knew her truename.?

The demon-mage uttered something blasphemous, shooting an accusatory glare at Javan. ?I trust, Ser Ratt, that you understand the implications there? How long do you think she could hold against that? When she comes back, if she comes back, she could damned well be working under a compulsion set by this Veighn. Are you so afraid to risk her rage??

?Dar, calm down and shut up. You?re just being paranoid now, an alarmist,? drawled Lledrith, interrupting Javan as he took an angry breath to speak. The vampire looked from Javan to Dar. ?Trust me, I?d know if someone else had been in her mind.?

?Maybe you would. Maybe you would not.? The demon mage pointed at Lledrith. ?I have good cause to be paranoid. You can not even tell that she still lives. Your late mother would have been of more use than you. She would not have waited a day to go hunting.?

?F? you, Dar. I?d know if Alys were dead. We all would - you haven?t been part of the Bloodline long enough to know that.? Lledrith said, smirking. ?Javan?s right, she won?t thank us for getting involved. I trust her to take care of her own business - why don?t you? Huh??

?Enough arguing. We?ll do the work of the devil for him.? A wry voice spoke, mocking sleepily from the shadows. ?Alys has named no heir for her Bloodline, but the ties of blood between her and I are closest and oldest. We shall vote.?

?So we shall.? Javan would not dispute the authority of the one who spoke, the shadow-thief who, like Alysia, had born the blood of Vladslace, Li?Ved, Shadow and Skye alike. He gestured at the center of the table. Two circles began to glow upon the surface, one red, one white. ?First, to bide and gather information for another month - I?ll even go myself.? He tossed a crimsor coin into the first, red circle. ?Second, to send to Dark Lake the Bloodguard with their individual Legions and an appropriate complement of Mage-Wardens.?

By the time those present had cast their votes, the coins scattered across the white circle outweighed those in the red. Javan stood and bowed formally to Dar-karow. ?I concede, Master Demon-Mage, and will send the Bloodguard to find their Mistress.?

The demon mage stood and mirrored Javan?s bow.

"Ah... The demon-mage chastises us to our duty," answered Karthalan, holding Dar'Karow's gaze as he spoke. He gestured vaguely with an arm that ended in a stump near the wrist. "And so we shall take these risks he mentions. I trust he'll assist us."

Dar-karow said, ?I will. I have the Mage-Wardens bivouacked near the shrine. Most of them are Masters. Some are Adept-level, and there are no few shadow mages. Your own legions are held at the staging point in Rhilshen. I trust they will not be necessary unless the repercussions you anticipate are realized.?

The troll grunted and tuned out their voices for a while, looking up at the distant Wraithspire with a sneer of contempt.

"If or when we break through the wards, we will need a focus to summon her. Something that belongs to the priestess," rasped Stead, another lich of the Bloodguard. "Something personal."

"Are you sure there is time for that?" objected the demon mage. ?Why do you need a focus??

"She chose not to reveal her truename. Not to us." Karthalan explained.

"You do not know her truename." Dar repeated in disbelief. "Not one of you?"

Karthalan?s robes rustled dryly as he shrugged. "You?re her brother. Don?t you?" he countered.

"No. " The demon mage frowned and shook his head, perplexed that the so-called Lord Yhaull knew Alysia's full name, her truename, when her own mage guards, advisors, and blood-bonded kin did not. "A focus... perhaps her blades?"

"Both blades were with her when she was taken," said Karthalan.

"Scrolls. Or jewelry," muttered Khaz. His contempt for the mages was evident in his growl. "Check her rooms." He pointed toward the manor house.

Dar drew cloaking shadows around him and headed for the stairs at a run, stopping upon the landing. He heard nothing but his own heartbeat, then the sound of a soft gasp. Another heartbeat. Movement He continued to the third floor and advanced warily to a door, gestured at the handle to release the lock. It opened and he raised his hand, marshaling a killing levinbolt that crackled on his fingertips.

He saw a woman huddled on the floor in the suffocating darkness, naked and surrounded by fragments of what looked like blood red crystal. With a growing sense of shock, Dar recognized the dark tattoos upon the woman?s wrists, the warm alabaster of her long limbs, the white-gold mane that covered her face. There was an elusive hint of gold scales on the curves of her shoulders and hips, and a faintly glowing outline of hellborn wings at her back. She was shrouded by the Chaos he had sensed.

?Alysia?? the demon mage whispered in surprise.

The woman lifted her face, and he discerned the smoldering crimson eyes, the blend of elf and demon upon her features. She sat up and stretched wearily, staring at Dar. ?I have been a captive for far too long,? she murmured in a silken contralto.

?I might have killed you. What the Hell happened? How did you get free??

?I. . . the wards broke.? She sounded hesitant, but Dar could sense her honesty. The woman?s stare turned speculative, appraising. ? Gods and demons, but I?m starving after so long in that damnable prison,? she said.

He dispelled the energy he had summoned and looked away. Something about her nudity disturbed him. ?Find yourself something to wear first.?

?If you insist. Though if I expire from bloodthirst while satisfying your embarrassment, it?ll be on your conscience.? Petulant, she did not look at the Dar, and instead flung open the doors of a wardrobe and began slowly rifling through the contents. After making some disparaging comments about the selection, she finally chose a sleeveless shift of black silk and black gladiatrix sandals. The dress, beaded with jet and obsidian, clung to her curves and left her arms and legs mostly bare.

She moved toward him with a intent, expectant look in her eyes.

The demon mage shook his head, started to reply in the negative and pull away. She seized his hand and lifted his wrist to her mouth before he could protest. He felt a painful tingle where her lips touched his skin and was lost in a surging haze of ecstacy in which he only dimly heard an armored stride booming upon the stairs; a second later, Khaz kicked the door fully open.

The troll, holding an immense claymore before him, bellowed a wordless challenge which died in his throat as he saw the two figures before him. He lowered the sword, turning an inquisitive frown from Dar to the silver-maned woman. At the troll?s glare, suddenly aware of the proximity of warm alabaster against him, of the blood dripping down his hand, Dar took a step back. And another.

?Intruder, you said,? Khaz grunted. ?Ha.? The troll snorted with barely suppressed laughter.

?He was wrong,? snapped the woman, straightening. ?I can tell you?re about to ask me about my ordeal. Don?t. It is not something I wish to discuss,? she rasped. ?And it is imperative we go, now. I will be collapsing the shadow gate behind us to prevent any from following.?

The carved-oak doors to the manor house stood open, and a flash of lightning showed a mosiac of gray and green, thick dust and wind-blown leaves upon the stone floor. The place was empty of the sorceries that had maintained it and the lives that had sustained it. The house felt empty and dead, as though it had been empty and dead for years, rather than weeks or months.

Within a cool grotto beneath Dark Lake Manor, surrounded by gloom and damp, Alysia observed a miasma of Chaos that hung in the air before a closed arch, tiny motes glowing dull and red. She stretched one hand forward into the shifting, shapeless mass, ignoring the rising scent of ozone, and struggled to capture and bind the fading energies that were her link to a distant realm. She found a trace of Alazais' passage through the Nexus and seized upon the familiar sense of Rhilshen, grasping for a ley line to anchor the collapsing gate.

Then came a jarring recoil that cast her from the Nexus and left her stunned. "The way is barred to you," came a sibilant voice, flat hissing in the silent cave. Something ancient and black, smelling of jasmine smoke, twisted from the shadows of the fallen portal, snake-like. Shocked that a ward had been set against her in her own domain, Alysia gaped at the serpentine figure.

The last anchor of the Shadow Gate finally collapsed, surging back into the local ley lines before dissipating. Alysia's fists clenched in frustration, and she shouted and vented her fury against the walled archway until she felt something sharp cutting into her palm, a trickle of wetness dripping up her wrist.

Stung back to immediate needs, she turned her hand over, saw the icy, faceted gleam of a diamond stud upon her bloodied palm. Lucien's promise, she thought. What promises did the Black Wizard wring from him. . . She shuddered at the sense of violation that lingered. And what of my own promises? Can they be kept?

She subsumed her anger beneath a patina of icy serenity. Stepping back into the gloom, Alysia made for the upper levels of the manor. Outside, hailstones clattered and cracked upon the windowpanes, playing counterpoint to a faint crackle-hum as tattered wards realigned and ambient energies began to rebalance.