The Nether Scroll

If an undead mind flayer wasn't the threat, then what about the athanor it had constructed? The egg was the largest alchemic device Dru had ever seen or heard of, but mad wizards had been cobbling creatures together for millennia—since Netheril itself. What made this athanor different, this undead mind flayer a danger to the Weave?

Things started changing about seven years ago—

What started the changes?

Six years ago, the Beast Lord's athanor had been smaller. It had transmuted Sheemzher's wife into a Taker but the misshapen goblins of the bogs were demons to Sheemzher's eyes. The swordswingers they'd fought underground were demons too, but the creatures who'd led Sheemzher's wife to the small egg were Takers. The misshapen fought with sharpened sticks. The swordswingers with swords. Sheemzher hadn't said if the Takers carried weapons. It was tempting to think that the Takers would have carried spears and then construct a progression of "improved" demons emerging from the Beast Lord's athanor.

The big change—the big "improvement" had come between the misshapen and the Takers. Sheemzher's wife had been transmuted in an egg which she shared with one of Wyndyfarh's mantis minions. Was that the change—take one goblin and add a jewel-eyed insect already touched by potent magic? Or was the change the power that merged the two together? Power that came from a Netherese scroll?

Sheemzher had as much as said Lady Wyndyfarh was an exotic from another plane ... a watcher. What was she watching? Illithids. Mind flayers that lived in colonies and were guided by an Elder Brain. By itself and without an Elder Brain, the undead Beast Lord was a nuisance . .. until it acquired one of Netheril's golden scrolls of magic.

Dru cleared his throat and started again. "Sheemzher, what else do you know about the golden scroll we're supposed to bring back to Weathercote Wood? What has Wyndyfarh told you about it?"

Sheemzher began, "Good lady say—" and got no farther. He gasped once and began to choke. Choking became trembling and he collapsed on the rock, hitting his head hard. The convulsion deepened. Foam and spittle appeared on the goblin's lips.

"Damn her!" Dru shouted and tried to protect Sheemzher's head as his body thrashed on the wet stone.

"What's going on over there?" Rozt'a shouted. "Dru asked Sheemzher about the Netherese scroll and now he's having a fit."

Rozt'a raised her voice in ironic prayer: "All hail the gods, what's next?"

"Don't tempt them," Dru advised.

The tremors were subsiding. Sheemzher's back relaxed, his arms and legs went limp a few heartbeats later.

Tiep asked, "Is he—?"

"No, he'll come around in a moment or two."

"That was a lot of geas to put on a little body." Rozt'a observed. "Somebody doesn't want him talking about that Nether scroll in a big way."

"Not somebody—Wyndyfarh."

"Can you get around it?"

"In a month, in Scornubel with all Ansoain's books open in front of me, if I got lucky, stayed lucky, and didn't kill him by mistake."

Sheemzher coughed out phlegm and bile. He tried to sit but couldn't lift his shoulders. "Sheemzher hurt. Sheemzher not remember."

"Your good lady doesn't want you answering certain questions of mine."

The goblin tried again to sit. He still couldn't manage it on his own. Rozt'a offered her hand. Sheemzher ignored it, groping at his sides instead. "Spear? Where Sheemzher spear? Sheemzher not Sheemzher without spear."

Panic gave the goblin a drunk's strength and coordination. He struck both Dru and Rozt'a in his efforts to find the missing spear. The blows were hard, but not hard enough to prevent Dru from spreading his hand across Sheemzher's chest and forcing the goblin to lie back on the stone.

"It was you or the spear," Dru explained, which wasn't the complete truth. He could have carried both and he had looked for the spear, but he hadn't wasted much time in the search.

Sheemzher hung his head and hugged himself. He'd lost his spear and his hat— possessions which he'd clearly prized—his bright-colored garments were dirty and sodden, and his good lady had tagged him with a geas that had fallen just short of killing him. A man in his place might be feeling pretty well abandoned by now. And a goblin? Dru laid a hand on Sheemzher's shoulder.

"We'll look for it when we go back underground."

"We're going back down?" Tiep asked, a mix of relief and surprise in the question.

Dru nodded, but not before Rozt'a answered, "Of course we are. I don't care what Lady Wyndyfarh is or what she's done—we're getting that scroll. We're getting Galimer out of Weathercote Wood. One alhoon isn't enough to stop us."

She named the Beast Lord's breed without howling. The word was almost familiar.