“Mammot,” he whispered, as he opened his Warren, “I need you.”
He smiled as a scene appeared in his head, of a small room and a stone hearth. Seated in the chair opposite his point of view was Kruppe. “Good. I need you both.”
The Hound that approached Quick Ben was wide and heavy, its fur a pasty white. As it trotted up to the wizard, he saw that its eyes were also white The creature possessed no pupils. It stopped a short distance away and sat. Quick Ben bowed. “You are the Hound called Blind,” he said, “mate to Baran and mother of Gear. I come seeking no harm. I would speak with your master.”
He heard a growl beside him and froze. Slowly, he turned his head an looked down. Less than a foot from his right leg lay another Hound mottled brown and tan, lean and scarred. Its eyes were fixed on Blind “Baran.” He nodded. Another growl answered Baran's, this one behind the wizard. He turned further to see, ten feet away, a third Hound, this one long, black and sleek. Its eyes, fixed on him, glowed red. “And Shan he said quietly. He faced Blind again. “Have you found your quarry, or are you my escort?”
Baran rose silently beside him, its shoulders level with his chest. Blind stood, then trotted off to the left. She stopped and looked back. Twin growls spurred Quick Ben after them.
The land around them changed slowly, details slipping into sourceles shadows and re-emerging subtly altered. On what the wizard thought of as the north horizon, a grey forest climbed a slope to what might have been a wall. This wall was in place of sky-maybe it was sky-but to Quick Ben it looked strangely close, even though the forest was leagues away. Glancing overhead did not help him confirm or refute his feeling that this realm was bordered by a magical wall, for it, too, seemed close, almost within reach. Yet black clouds rode winds above him, skewing his perceptions and making him dizzy.
Another Hound had joined their company. This one, a male, was dark grey, one of its eyes blue, the other yellow. Though it didn't come close Quick Ben judged that it was the largest of those around him, and its movement hinted at deadly speed. He knew it as Doan, first born to the pack's leader, Rood, and its first mate, Pallick.
Doan trotted alongside Blind for a time, then, when they came to the crest of a low rise, he bolted forward. Reaching the crest, Quick Ben saw their destination. He sighed. Just as the image carved upon the altar within the temples dedicated to Shadowthrone, Shadowkeep rose from the plain like an enormous lump of black glass, fractured with curving planes, rippled in places, with some corners glistening white as if crushed. The largest surface facing them-a wall, he supposed-was mottled and dull, as if it was a cortex, the weathered surface of obsidian.
There were no windows as such, but many of the slick surfaces looked semi-translucent and seemed to glow with an inner light. As far as Quick Ben could see, there was no door, no gate, no drawbridge.
They arrived, and the wizard exclaimed in surprise as Blind strode into the stone and disappeared. He hesitated, and Boran came as close to nudging him as Quick Ben allowed. He walked up to the mottled stone and held out his hands as he stepped into it. He felt nothing, passing through effortlessly to find himself in a hallway that could have been found in any mundane estate.
Barren of trappings, the corridor led straight forward for, perhaps, thirty feet and ended at double doors. Blind and Doan sat to either side of these doors, which now opened of their own accord.
Quick Ben entered the room beyond. The chamber was domed. Opposite him stood a simple obsidian throne on a slightly raised dais. The dull, cobbled floor bore no rugs, and the walls were bare except for torches spaced every ten feet. Quick Ben counted forty, but the light was fitful, seeming to struggle against encroaching shadows.
At first he thought the throne unoccupied, but as he approached he saw the figure seated there. It seemed composed of almost translucent shadows, vaguely human in form, but hooded, preventing even the glint of eyes. Still, Quick Ben could feel the god's attention fixed solely on him, and he barely repressed a shiver.
Shadowthrone spoke, his voice calm and clear. “Shan tells me you know the names of my Hounds.”
Quick Ben stopped before the dais. He bowed. “I was once an acolyte within your temple, Lord.”
The god was silent for a time, then he said, “Is it wise to admit such a thing, Wizard? Do I look kindly upon those who once served me but then abandoned my ways? Tell me. I would hear from you what my priests teach.”
“To begin upon the Path of Shadow and then to leave it is rewarded by the Rope.”
“Meaning?”
“I am marked for assassination by all who follow your ways, Lord.”