enemy who would profit in the bargain.
Erevis Cale, Rivalen said, the words hot with anger.
So it seems. Since Kesson Rel stole a portion of Mask's divinity, it is not of him. Upon his death, presumably, it will revert to the Chosen of Mask who drank from the chalice.
We cannot allow that, Rivalen said.
Agreed, Brennus said.
After a time, Rivalen said, will arrange for the assistance of Erevis Cale. Meanwhile, I have another task for you, Brennus. Brennus waited.
When the power is freed upon Kesson Rel's death, I want it.
The homunculi on Brennus's shoulders gave a start, leaned forward, and stared at one another across the intervening landscape of Brennus's face.
Shadows swirled around Brennus. You want it?
Yes. Or I want it obliterated, though I think that likely impossible.
Does the Most High know of this?
Rivalen's silence provided answer enough.
Brennus made the connections between what he had learned from Mephistopheles and what Rivalen had told him of Kesson Rel.
Rivalen, the divinations suggest that the divinity can be recovered only by Mask's Chosen. If you I need you to find another way, Brennus. Rivalen...
We must kill Kesson Rel to stop the Shadowstorm, but we cannot afford to elevate Erevis Cale in his place. True.
There is a way. There must be. Find it. Whatever methods you used before, use them again.
The homunculi squealed and darted into his cloak. Brennus shook his head, recalling the power and majesty of the archfiend. He did not relish another encounter.
You do not know what you are asking, Brennus sent.
Do you see another option?
Brennus shook his head. No.
You divined that the temple at the edge of nothing would soon be destroyed. We have little time. Yes.
Then I will expect prompt word of your success. I will notforget your assistance in this, Brennus.
The connection went silent, leaving Brennus alone with his homunculi and his thoughts. Exhausted, he decided to take a meal. He strode the shadows to the dining hall and there found a platter of steamed mushrooms and braised beef awaiting him. A minor magic had kept it hot. His homunculi bounded from their perches and lingered over the mushrooms,
inhaling the aroma. They did not need to eat, but enjoyed indulging their senses.
Dim glowballs cast the table in faint green. Thick shadows spun lazily in the air. A dying fire spat its last, defiant crackles from the large, central hearth. A framed portrait of his mother, formally posed, hung over the hearth. He loved the portrait; its laughing eyes and soft smile captured her perfectly.
She stood in a long, yellow gown, one hand on a side chair. Her dark hair, pulled up and tied with diamond studded silver wire, contrasted markedly with her pale skin. A diamond necklace hung from her neck, not the jacinth chain weighing down Brennus's pocket, weighing down his soul. The portrait had been made before Shade Enclave had fled Karsus's folly to the Plane of Shadow, before Brennus had abandoned shaping for divination. His life would have been different had his mother lived.
He owed it to her to discover the identity of her murderer. If he could learn how to kill a god, surely he could learn that. He would learn that. Mephistopheles knew the name of the murderer. Or purported to know.
He lifted a goblet of nightwine, drank, but bately tasted it. He held it before his face, shadows coiling around it, and studied it while he thought. His mind turned to the Black Chalice, and he tried to understand events and their implications. But matters were complicated, dark. He could not see through them to the endgame.
"Brennus."
The voice startled Brennus. His homunculi gasped, and looked up with mushrooms held limply in their hands. Shadows poured from Brennus.
His father, Telemont Tanthul, the Most High, emerged from the darkness at the far end of the table. His platinum eyes glowed in the dark hole of his face. The darkness in the room coalesced around him like iron shavings to a lodestone.
He
Erevis Cale, Rivalen said, the words hot with anger.
So it seems. Since Kesson Rel stole a portion of Mask's divinity, it is not of him. Upon his death, presumably, it will revert to the Chosen of Mask who drank from the chalice.
We cannot allow that, Rivalen said.
Agreed, Brennus said.
After a time, Rivalen said, will arrange for the assistance of Erevis Cale. Meanwhile, I have another task for you, Brennus. Brennus waited.
When the power is freed upon Kesson Rel's death, I want it.
The homunculi on Brennus's shoulders gave a start, leaned forward, and stared at one another across the intervening landscape of Brennus's face.
Shadows swirled around Brennus. You want it?
Yes. Or I want it obliterated, though I think that likely impossible.
Does the Most High know of this?
Rivalen's silence provided answer enough.
Brennus made the connections between what he had learned from Mephistopheles and what Rivalen had told him of Kesson Rel.
Rivalen, the divinations suggest that the divinity can be recovered only by Mask's Chosen. If you I need you to find another way, Brennus. Rivalen...
We must kill Kesson Rel to stop the Shadowstorm, but we cannot afford to elevate Erevis Cale in his place. True.
There is a way. There must be. Find it. Whatever methods you used before, use them again.
The homunculi squealed and darted into his cloak. Brennus shook his head, recalling the power and majesty of the archfiend. He did not relish another encounter.
You do not know what you are asking, Brennus sent.
Do you see another option?
Brennus shook his head. No.
You divined that the temple at the edge of nothing would soon be destroyed. We have little time. Yes.
Then I will expect prompt word of your success. I will notforget your assistance in this, Brennus.
The connection went silent, leaving Brennus alone with his homunculi and his thoughts. Exhausted, he decided to take a meal. He strode the shadows to the dining hall and there found a platter of steamed mushrooms and braised beef awaiting him. A minor magic had kept it hot. His homunculi bounded from their perches and lingered over the mushrooms,
inhaling the aroma. They did not need to eat, but enjoyed indulging their senses.
Dim glowballs cast the table in faint green. Thick shadows spun lazily in the air. A dying fire spat its last, defiant crackles from the large, central hearth. A framed portrait of his mother, formally posed, hung over the hearth. He loved the portrait; its laughing eyes and soft smile captured her perfectly.
She stood in a long, yellow gown, one hand on a side chair. Her dark hair, pulled up and tied with diamond studded silver wire, contrasted markedly with her pale skin. A diamond necklace hung from her neck, not the jacinth chain weighing down Brennus's pocket, weighing down his soul. The portrait had been made before Shade Enclave had fled Karsus's folly to the Plane of Shadow, before Brennus had abandoned shaping for divination. His life would have been different had his mother lived.
He owed it to her to discover the identity of her murderer. If he could learn how to kill a god, surely he could learn that. He would learn that. Mephistopheles knew the name of the murderer. Or purported to know.
He lifted a goblet of nightwine, drank, but bately tasted it. He held it before his face, shadows coiling around it, and studied it while he thought. His mind turned to the Black Chalice, and he tried to understand events and their implications. But matters were complicated, dark. He could not see through them to the endgame.
"Brennus."
The voice startled Brennus. His homunculi gasped, and looked up with mushrooms held limply in their hands. Shadows poured from Brennus.
His father, Telemont Tanthul, the Most High, emerged from the darkness at the far end of the table. His platinum eyes glowed in the dark hole of his face. The darkness in the room coalesced around him like iron shavings to a lodestone.
He
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