The Black Wing (28 page)

The dark cleric's room in the basement of Shalimsha tower was small, cramped, and dark,
just the way Andor liked it. As personal cleric to Dragon Highlord Maldeev himself, he
rated a much larger space, even a room in the airy upper floors of the tower. But that
would not have suited Andor's tastes, developed as a youngster in a home carved into the
base of an enormous vallenwood tree. Andor was a Qualinesti elf.

Dark elf now, Andor reminded himself bitterly. Cast out by his own people after his study
of magic had taken an evil turn, Andor had been pronounced a dark elf and forbidden to
call himself a Qualinesti until his actions again reflected the good natures of his
people. Unfortunately, bitterness over his banishment had only cemented Andor's
affiliation with evil. The cleric always hid his delicately pointed ears beneath a dark,
coarse-spun hood that also kept his hairless elven face

in perpetual shadow. He preferred that people feared him for his skills, instead of
scorned him, or worse still, pitied him for his outcast status. Andor was kneeling at the
altar to Takhisis in Shalimsha's temple, preparing for the union ceremony he was to
perform later in the day between Maldeev and Khisanth. His role was to serve as the
channel between the queen and her mortal servants, thus his mind would link with the
Dragon Queen's during the ceremony. The thought brought fear to the cleric's heart.

She will see my guilt, Andor thought with certainty. She will know the reason for the
shame I have borne since the attack. He had to explain himself first. Andor began his
fervent prayers. “Dragon Queen,” the dark cleric began, using the name by which Takhisis
was known among elves, “I must humbly beg your forgiveness. I did not intend that my
skills be used against one who served you. I didn't know, didn't ask the purpose. It was
not my place to question ...” The dark elf's voice trailed off, knowing he sounded weak
willed, and very guilty. Andor had a sudden thought.

“I know you can read my thoughts if you've a mind to, but you must realize the depth of my
regret for my unwitting part in the betrayal. To prove that my allegiance to you is as
steadfast as ever, I'll reveal the name of the one who has betrayed us both.” The dark elf
leaned in needlessly and whispered, “His name is”

Andor's voice was abruptly silenced. Carrying a torch in one hand, Khisanth, as the
black-haired woman Onyx, rushed down the narrow, twisting staircase. Not that she liked
the human form, but it had its

uses. She could never have gotten to the basement of the tower in her enormous dragon
form. The dark cleric Andor would know, if anyone in Shalimsha would, what sort of spell
could have caused the hideous transformation of Jahet. Khisanth could not erase from her
memory the sight of the glass dragon shattering. The young woman had to hurry now. The
union ceremony with Maldeev was to take place at sundown, and much needed to be done
beforehand. Khisanth took the last two steps as one and hastened down the corridor, which
was narrow as two humans side by side, though very tall. A young soldier had told her that
the dark cleric's door was the second one on the right. Passing the first, she stopped
before a small, solid oak door, light in color from lack of exposure to sunlight, with a
half-oval top. To her surprise, the door was ajar; she could see dim candlelight
flickering through the crack. Onyx knocked loudly. She heard nothing. Peering inside, she
slowly pushed the heavy door open. “Andor?” The young woman stepped in tentatively and
looked around. Maldeev's dark cleric was in shadow, on his knees at his shrine to
Takhisis. “It's Khis I mean Onyx.” She held up her torch as she approached. “I've come to
ask your counsel about a magical spell.” Onyx's voice caught in her human throat. Andor,
the dark cleric of Dragon Highlord Maldeev, was facedown on the altar, blood trailing from
his mouth. A diamond-encrusted knife protruded from his back. “Murder within the high
ranks of the wing, and on the day of our union,” Maldeev muttered darkly. “I hope it's not
an ill omen. . . . What this is is damned inconvenient, since Andor was to perform the
ceremony.” The highlord pushed back the sleeves of his robe and threw a log on the fire,
sending sparks flying. “I'm sorry I had to be the bearer of such news on this day,” said
Khisanth. “What were you doing in the basement, anyway?” the highlord asked without
turning. “I... wanted to ask Andor some questions about the ceremony,” Khisanth lied,
remembering Jahef s words about Maldeev's distrust of magic. “You could have asked me,”
said Maldeev. “I didn't wish to bother you with minor details,” she said quickly. “We'll
have to launch an investigation into Andor's death” “Yes, of course. Tomorrow,” Maldeev
said. “Right now I have to arrange for that other little clericwhat's his name, Wiib?to
perform the ceremony. Wait here for me, I have something to discuss with you when I'm
finished,” he ordered, then strode out the door that led to the interior of the tower.
Khisanth lay her head on her claws, her lips pulled back in a grimace of annoyance. Did he
think she had nothing to do today but wait for him? She hoped to get in a quick feast and
nap before the festivities. The dragon could make no sense of Maldeev's water clock, but
the sunlight coming in from the courtyard told her that there was less than a quarter day
left before sundown. She could take care of one of those tasks here, she realized.
Settling in for a nap, Khisanth's head jerked up when a knock sounded at the small door
through which Maldeev had just left. “Come,” she said. Salah Khan's black head wrapping
poked through the opening. He saw that Khisanth was alone before the fire. “Excuse me,
Number One. I was told the highlord was here,” he explained. “There is a problem between
the baaz and kapak draconians that requires his immediate attention, and ...” The human's
muffled voice trailed off awkwardly. Khisanth had noticed a decided chill in the air
during all encounters with Salah Khan since the battle at Lamesh. They both knew that if
not for Jahet's death, Khisanth would be exchanging vows with Maldeev's second-in-command
today, not the highlord. “Highlord Maldeev said he would be returning momentarily. Enter
and wait,” she

invited, nodding toward a spot near the hearth. The human commander paused, considering.
“Thank you,” he said at last, then stepped around the door. He moved in to stand before
the fire with his arms clasped stiffly behind his back. Dragon and human waited together
in uncomfortable silence. Khisanth feigned sleep; Salah Khan stared straight ahead.
Finally the human broke the stillness. “I wish you well in your impending union,
Khisanth,” he said. “The wing will benefit from the combination of your's and Maldeev's
impressive skills.” “Thank you, Khan,” said Khisanth. The human seemed to relax a bit and
even turned to look at the dragon. “Highlord Maldeev must be favored by the gods to have
merited union with two such impressive dragons in one lifetime.” Khisanth only nodded,
feeling her spine tingle slightly at the reminder of Maldeev's own assessment of their
union. Salah Khan clasped his hands together and turned his masked face toward the
ceiling. “I only thank Takhisis that our brave highlord had the foresight to wear a
magical ring into the battle that killed the mighty, faithful Jahet.” He was watching
Khisanth closely out of the corners of his eyes. “Just think, if he had not overcome his
distrust of magic simply to appease Andor and Jahet, why, he might be dead himself!” The
human shuddered. Khan shook his wrapped head. “We shouldn't dwell today on such grim
thoughts of what might have been. This day is a monumental one for the entire Black Wing,”
he finished brightly. Khisanth could hardly hear the human over the thoughts Kahn's
artless words had sent tumbling through her brain. “Do you think Highlord Maldeev will be
much longer?” Salah Khan was asking, looking anxiously toward the door. “I really must be
getting back to deal with the problem between the draconians___” Khisanth struggled to her
feet. “Tell the highlord I couldn't wait any longer,” she instructed, her tone brusque and
distant. “Tell him I had something to attend to, that I'll see him in the temple at
sundown.” With that, the black dragon stormed out of the large doorway and into the
courtyard. Watching her hasty departure, Salah Khan smiled beneath his mask. Why hadn't
she thought of it herself? Khisanth stormed inwardly. The dragon-turned- rodent scurried
through the corridors of the tower, pressed into the shadowy corners where wall met floor.
There were only three magical things in proximity to Jahet in the battle that had killed
her. Jahet herself, Khisanth, and Maldeev's ring. Wear the bloody thing, Maldeev. What
will it hurt? It just may come in handy. Jahet herself had talked Maldeev into wearing
Andor's creation. Andor and his ring were the key to the puzzle. The dark cleric was
central in, if not the instigator of, a conspiracy against Jahet. His mysterious murder
supported the idea that he didn't act alone. Khisanth could think of no reason the cleric
would want Jahet dead. Now he was dead, too. Someone had silenced him. That left only the
ring as evidence. Khisanth couldn't suggest to Maldeev, today of all days, that he might
have unwittingly played some part in Jahef s death. The highlord would be furious and
refuse to allow her to inspect the ring. She would simply have to find and examine the
ring without his knowing it. Which was why Khisanth was scurrying toward Maldeev's
chambers as a mouse. She hadn't much time before he would return to change for the
ceremony. As if to confirm the thought, a young serving girl in muslin cap and apron
passed by the mouse, sloshing boiling water from two heavy, gray pine buckets. Setting the
pails down

before the high-lord's door, the girl knocked perfunctorily, knowing the highlord was not
yet present. She turned the knob and kicked the door open. The girl didn't see the brown
mouse that skittered in behind her before she kicked the door closed with her heel.

Khisanth's first look at Maldeev's chambers surprised her. The decor was austere for a man
of his rank. The main room was spacious enough to hold a dragon, if one could only get
inside. The far wall consisted almost entirely of walk-out windows that led to a southern
parapet overlooking the courtyard. Maldeev had spoken his first words to her from there,
she remembered.

The windows were divided by a ten-foot-wide section of wall that provided the backdrop for
Maldeev's bed. Khisanth's eyes widened at the sight of the only luxurious item in the
room; three steps led up to the enormous, canopied thing draped with netting and covered
with mounds of soft pillows. Khisanth looked around for anything that might house a ring
and spotted a wooden clothing press on the short, eastern wall. At this distance and
angle, she could just make out a chest on top. Looking to the serving wench who was
pouring the water into a copper bath, Khisanth hugged the wall and made her way to the
press. Now what? she asked herself. How was she going to get to the top of the towering
wooden cabinet? Then she spied the tapestry hanging behind it and had her answer.
Extending her delicate ivory nails, Khisanth sprang from her hind feet and hooked her
little claws into the weave, pulling, pushing her way up the wall tapestry. Coming just
past the top of the press, Khisanth launched herself at its smooth, polished surface, and
nearly skidded off the far side. She stopped the skid by latching onto an embroidered
cloth beneath the chest, which was twice her height and three times her length. Khisanth's
little heart hammered against her ribs at the near accident. Pausing only a moment to slow
her breathing, she fiddled with the simple clasp on the chest until it snapped up with a
soft “ping.” She raised up on her hind feet, pushed the lid of the velvet-lined chest over
her head, and peered within. Khisanth pushed aside several ribboned, wax-sealed scrolls
and an elaborate silver circlet she had never seen the highlord wear. Spotting a number of
rings in the dim recesses of the box, Khisanth slipped her hind quarters over the edge to
get a closer look. For someone who never wore rings, Mal-deev sure seems to have a lot of
them, she grumbled inwardly, trying to recall the brief memory of the ring he had worn at
Lamesh. It had been smooth and black, like smoky glass, she remembered, with a gold band.
Her eyes fell on it, and her pulse jumped with excitement. Running her paws over the flat,
smooth stone, then over the edges, her right claw met with a catch. “Highlord!” she heard
the serving wench cry suddenly. Khisanth's mouse head shot up from the box. Maldeev was
marching into his chambers, whistling a tune softly. He patted the serving girl on the
bottom in an obviously familiar gesture. “I wish we had time now, my dear,” he said
wistfully, as he began stripping off his clothing. “It'll have to wait until after
tonight's festivities.” Bare-chested, Maldeev headed across the room for the press.
Khisanth dived into the box. “I was delayed by some unpleasantness, and I'm not even sure
I'll have time for a bath now.” Maldeev would surely see that the lid of his chest was
open, and then he would look inside and find her! How on Krynn could she explain this? She
was so close! Khisanth looked at the ring next to her in the box. What had the knight Tate
said? “Live to fight another day,” or some such thing. It made more sense to her now in
her much smaller mouse form. Khisanth sprang from the box, scrambled across the press,
tiny nails clicking against the wood. Maldeev was mere steps away, head bent to the task
of fastening his cuffs.

Heart hammering, Khisanth launched herself at the tapestry and sank her claws in. She
paused one frantic heartbeat to catch her breath, then slid paw over paw down the wall
hanging, and dropped soundlessly to the floor. Hugging the floorboards, she made for the
door.

“Someone has been in my chest,” she heard Maldeev say angrily when he reached the press.
“What do you know about it, girl?” The young serving girl's voice trembled. “I know
nothing, sir. I came in just moments ago with water. There was no one here. I swear I have
walked only between the door and the tub, sir.”