Shadowrealm - By Paul S. Kemp Page 0,20
But he did need information about Kesson Rel.
He activated the magic of his amethyst ring and thought of his brother. He felt the connection open.
Rivalen? Brennus asked.
I need you to learn all you can of Kesson Rel. Everything there is to know. He must die, Brennus.
A long pause, then, Very well. I have already learned that he is quasi-divine. Did you know that, Rivalen?
Yes. Rivalen did not know how or why Shar had infused Kesson with divine power, but he knew it had been done. Continue your attempts to locate Erevis Cale. Kesson Rel served Mask before turning to Shar. I do not see coincidence. There’s a knot here. We must untie it.
Agreed.
What have you learned of Cale’s woman?
Another long pause. Nothing of her. She is gone but not dead. I cannot make sense of it.
Rivalen sensed reticence through the connection. Is there something else, Brennus?
No.
Rivalen knew Brennus was lying but did not press. Brennus, too, was entitled to some secrets.
Inform me when you learn anything, Brennus. We will need to face Kesson Rel, and soon. Much turns on your success.
I know.
The connection closed and a knock on the door of the study brought Rivalen’s mind back to his surroundings.
“Speak,” he called.
“The Hulorn has requested your presence at his family’s estate, Prince.”
Rivalen knew the time to be two hours or more past midnight. Apparently the Hulorn did not find sleep appealing. Rivalen understood why. After murdering his mother in Shar’s name, Rivalen had feared his dreams and slept fitfully for months. Tamlin had murdered a onetime friend. His sleep would be troubled for a time.
“Inform the Hulorn that I will attend him directly.”
The doorman announced the arrival of Prince Rivalen and Tamlin stood as the prince’s dark form filled the parlor’s doorway. Rivalen’s body merged with the darkness, the boundaries of his form indeterminate from the night. Glowing golden eyes hovered in the ink of his face, the two guiding stars of Tamlin’s new life.
“Prince, thank you for coming.”
“Of course, Hulorn. Sleep eludes you?”
Tamlin shook his head. He knew Rivalen could see the gesture clearly. “Not at all. I am … energized. And I am enjoying the darkness.”
The shadows around Rivalen swirled slowly. The darkness carried him into the room.
“So you are.”
The Shadovar prince glanced around the wood-paneled study, at the books and scrolls that filled the shelves. Tamlin would have offered him a chalice of wine, but he knew Rivalen did not partake.
“An impressive collection,” said the prince.
“My father’s. Sit, please.”
Rivalen sat at the small table with the chessboard atop it, before black. Tamlin took the seat opposite. He had sat across the same table from his father many times, usually to receive this or that admonishment for one failure or another. He felt more comfortable with Rivalen than he ever had with his father.
“Do you play, Prince?” Tamlin asked.
“I did. Long ago. I gave it up after my mother died.”
He picked up the black king and the shadows shrouding him enveloped it.
“I am sorry,” said Tamlin.
“Thank you. My interest in chess waned when I realized that it is a transparent contest where one can see an opponent’s forces and their movement. Life is rarely so clear.”
“Truth,” Tamlin said, nodding. “Myself, I was never a skillful player. My father and Mister Cale played often.”
“Mister Cale,” Rivalen said softly, and the shadows around him churned.
“I am going to be rid of it tomorrow,” Tamlin said. “All of it. The books, the furniture. All of it.”
Rivalen’s eyes flared and he placed the king in the center of the board, exposed.
“I understand completely.”
Tamlin had no doubt the prince did. He rose to pour himself a drink, navigating the study in the darkness. When he reached the sideboard, he said, “The high bergun has taken my family into custody. He hopes thereby to ransom Daerlun’s safety.”
Rivalen looked up from the board, his golden eyes veiled. “They could be retrieved, Hulorn. Shall I arrange it?”
Tamlin realized that something of import turned on his answer. He found a glass, a bottle of wine, and poured. He tried to determine the vintage from taste—Thamalon’s Best Red, he thought. At least four years old.
“I am grateful for your offer, Prince. But the presence of my family would be a distraction to me just now.”
“Indeed,” Rivalen said again, the comment half question, half observation. “Families are sometimes a … distraction.”
Tamlin returned to the chess table, chalice in hand. “You and your brother seem to complement one another well.”
“We Tanthuls have had two thousand years to learn to work