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High Telamont Tanthul. Striding into his father’s parlor, pennons of shadow formed spontaneously in the caliginous air and clung to his high collared silk shirt and linen breeches. Rivalen had become so accustomed to the touch of the shadows over the centuries that he scarcely noticed them anymore. Shadows saturated Shade Enclave just as the Inner Sea saturated Sakkors.
    Dim lights provided the only illumination in the rich, duskwood-paneled chamber. A thick gray rug decorated with an azure spiral motif covered the floor. Plush chairs and two claw-foot divans provided seating. Books and scrolls covered most of the walls in the circular chamber. The Most High’s mammoth darkwood desk sat
    centermost, itself covered in scrolls and tomes. Rivalen’s father read voraciously everything he could find. Rivalen knew that the Most High had made a secret arrangement with the keeper of tomes, the master of Faerun’s greatest library, Candlekeep. The most high had provided the keeper with some rare tomes from ancient Netheril, written in the original Loross. In return, the keeper allowed the most high—through his agents, of course, or in disguise—full access to Candlekeep’s collection.
    Rivalen spotted his father on the far side of the parlor, standing before a magical wall map of Faerun. Rivalen saw no sign of Hadrhune, his father’s counselor and Rivalen’s chief rival for his father’s ear.
    “Central Faerun,” said the most high, and the magical map changed perspective, expanding to show the details of the heartlands of Faerun—Cormyr, Sembia, and the Dalelands.
    Rivalen prepared to announce himself but the most high said, “You and Brennus have found Sakkors. Its mythallar is ours.”
    Rivalen no longer bothered to ask how his father knew what he knew.
    “Yes, Most High.”
    The most high turned to face him. His knowing, platinum-colored eyes stared out of a narrow, expressionless face. Rivalen had inherited his father’s sharp nose and imperial bearing. His father’s royal cloak, originally violet, was so dark as to be almost black. As much shadowstuff as flesh, Telamont seemed to float rather than stand. The outline of his body blurred with the darkness in the room. Shadows swirled constantly around him, longer and thicker than those that circled Rivalen. The shadowstuff had not yet so consumed Rivalen. But it would.
    “Well done, Rivalen.”
    The most high’s praise was hard won. Rivalen enjoyed the moment.
    Telamont moved past Rivalen to the darkwood desk and removed the crystal stopper from a bottle of nightwine. He poured two glasses and gave one to Rivalen. Rivalen held it but did not drink; he never did.
    “The mythallar is undamaged?” his father asked.
    Rivalen swirled the nightwine, inhaled its piquant aroma. “Structurally it is undamaged. And its magic appears intact, if somewhat weakened. But the sentience within is… unconscious. At this point, it is nothing more than a slightly weakened, ordinary mythallar.”
    The most high sipped his drink and frowned. “The sentience in the mythallar would be a formidable weapon to add to our arsenal. Awaken it, Rivalen.”
    “Easier spoken than accomplished, Father. Brennus has learned the name of someone we believe may be able to awaken it. I wanted only your permission to proceed.”
    “Who is this person you seek?”
    “A mind mage who travels the Dragon Coast. He is of no political consequence and will be missed by no one.”
    “A mind mage? Unusual in this age. This will not distract you from other matters?”
    “What other matters?” Rivalen asked.
    Telamont smiled enigmatically. “You have my permission, Rivalen.” He clasped his hands behind his back and floated back to the wall map.
    Rivalen followed, thoughtful.
    “We should proceed with the raising and reconstruction of Sakkors,” the most high said. “Your brothers Yder and Clariburnus should lead the effort while you and Brennus pursue this mind mage.”
    “As you wish, Most