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.Next came butterflies the color of barren rock and desert sand.Snow moths, delicate as moonlight.Bats! Most were the tiny chameleon bats that wheeled about the sky at twilight.They were mounted against bright swatches of silk that tested and preserved their ability to change color.His gaze fell upon the next creatures pinned against the cork, carefully preserved and neatly labeled.His breath hissed out on an outraged oath.There hung a fairy dragon, its bright wings carefully spread, tiny fangs bared in a final, defiant snarl.Next to it was a mummified sprite, a tiny winged lady displayed with the same precise detachment Dhamari had used in collecting insects.Basel's throat clenched as he remembered the exercises Keturah taught her apprentices.Butterflies and bats were among the easiest creatures to summon.Even Dhamari had been able to call them."Dhamari called them," he murmured.Obviously, Keturah’s former apprentice had not abandoned his desire to master his mistress's special art.Starting with the small denizens of Keturah's garden, he had gone farther and farther afield.Where, Basel wondered, would such a quest stop?He strode over to the shelves and began to search for an answer.One sweep of his hand knocked aside the neat rows of pots and vials.Hidden behind was a wooden box, nearly half full of tiny vials.As Basel selected a vial from the box, his eye fell upon an identical vial lying empty on the shelf.A decanter of wine stood beside it, dusty from long disuse and tightly stoppered.An identifying rune marked each vial-the same rune that had been engraved onto the potions Basel's wife had taken during their brief and tragic union-potions that would ensure the birth of a jordain child.Basel snatched up the wine bottle and rushed through the words of a transportation spell.He would retrieve his horse later-this could not wait.Back in his own tower in the city of Halar, a good day's ride from Dhamari's workroom, Basel hurried over to his potion scale.The traditional two-armed balance sat before a screen of white silk.Each arm ended in rounded vial of clear crystal, which would glow with intense light when a certain spell was cast upon it.Basel poured the jordaini potion into one of these globes, the wine into the other.With a quick, impatient gesture he set the globes aglow.A pair of complex patterns began to dance on the white curtain, an arcane design made of colors and runes and intricate black lines.Basel spoke a second command word and watched as the distinctive gold colors of the wine faded away.As he suspected, the remaining marks were similar to those cast by the jordaini potion.Similar, but different.Dhamari had dosed his wine with the jordaini potion-and with something more.Basel placed a third crystal pot in the crux of the scale and began to chant softly.The pattern for the wine potion began to shift as the unknown substance drained away.When the wine-derived pattern was identical to that of the jordaini potion, he cast the light spell upon the third vial.A green, jagged mark flashed upon the white silk, identifying the added ingredient.Basel caught his breath."Son of a rabid jackal," he said softly as the whole of Dhamari's plan came clear.Basel did not make such potions, nor did any reputable mage in Halruaa, but he knew of such things.This was the signature mark of a dangerous herb, one used by shamans in darker times and more primitive cultures to gain control of monsters that could not be called by normal magic.This, then, was the legacy Dhamari wished to pass along! He wanted Keturah's magic, altered and transferred to a child he could claim and control, a child who could do for him what he could not do himself.Rage rose in Basel with white heat.The wizard reversed his spell of transportation and returned to Dhamari's workroom.He methodically searched the library, where he found a surprising trove of material on Crinti history, drow lore, and legends of the Unseelie folk."Rather exciting reading for a fellow who collects butterflies," Basel muttered."Let's see what else he's been up to."Basel found the wizard's spell inventory and carefully checked it against the missing scrolls, books, and potions.The list itself was appalling.The arsenal Dhamari carried on his "little journey" with Tzigone terrified Basel to the core.He raced from the tower, stopping briefly at the gate to hand the servant a heavy bag of coin."Go to the harbor.Find a boat bound for distant lands, and buy passage.""I am bound to service here," the man began."Yes, I have a good idea how Dhamari binds his servants.Speak to no one of what you have seen in this place, and you should be safe enough for the next tenday or so."The gatekeeper nodded cautiously."After that, my lord?""No law or spell can bind you to a dead man," Basel said bluntly,The man's eyes widened, then turned luminous with gratitude."Mystra speed you, my lord!"Basel echoed that prayer as he returned to his Halarahh tower to order his skyship readied.He knew he could not track Tzigone-her uncanny resistance to magic had kept him from following her on the days she decided to slip away from her duties-but he would damn well find Dhamari.And his old friend Procopio Septus was just the man to tell him how.Procopio Septus stared at his new game table, committing the landscape to memory, contemplating the possibilities presented by gully and cliff and cave.He had played wargames for years, reenacting famous battles and learning from the triumphs and mistakes of past wizard-lords, but this table depicted a sensitive part of the eastern border, as it now was
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