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masterghandalfThis is a repost from Das_sporking2. Previous installments of this sporking may be found here.
Warning: This chapter contains some squicky moments, including the mutilation of a corpse.
MG: Well, everyone, it’s time to continue our journey through Ed Greenwood’s Cloak of Shadows! Last time, the Simbul showed up and casually slaughtered her way through the attacking Malaugrym, which didn’t make taking them seriously as a big threat any easier. Then Our Heroes were attacked by the Dumbest Zhent, the Malaugrym who was manipulating her, and his conjured army of hobgoblins, which resulted in the apparent death of “Elminster” – which everyone reacted to with horror, despite knowing that “Elminster” is really Sylune, who’s already a ghost, and that she and the original Elminster are both fine. Today, both the three rangers and the Malaugrym react to the previous chapter’s events and try to figure out what to do next. Joining us once again will be Errezha and Calassara!
Chapter Eight: To Get a Head in This World
Errezha: …I suppose you could get ahead in the world by having the goddess of magic fall in love with you and shower you with all manner of blessings and powers… at least, that is how Elminster did it. Alas most of us aren’t that lucky. We open in The Castle of Shadows, Kythorn 16 in Dhalgrave’s throne room as the air shimmers and a portal opens. Some of the gathered elders raise their hands to launch defensive magic – not unwise of them, considering that for all they know it might be the Simbul coming through – but it turns out to be one of their own returning. A breath later, Issaran of the blood of Malaug stepped proudly out of the spiraling emerald depths with a severed human head gripped in one fist, a staring man’s head with long white hair and a longer white beard. Alas, we already know this isn’t Elminster, and no doubt Issaran will find out the truth soon enough; I’m already embarrassed for him.
Calassara: And so Issaran calls down something called bloodfire to illuminate himself; I don’t believe we’ve ever heard of this before, but apparently doing so in the throne room when one isn’t the reigning Shadowmaster High is an act of insolence; Issaran doesn’t care, since he feels he’s now earned his position as Dhalgrave’s heir. I’m… starting to agree with Errezha on this; he’s going to be getting a nasty shock here, no doubt shortly. For now, Issaran only holds up the head, announcing that it’s Elminster, dead by his hand. *beat* Oh, for Calistria’s sake… to get a head in this world. The chapter title is a pun. Gods help us all… Dhalgrave himself, however, suddenly materializes on the throne and asks how Issaran can explain something. He waves a hand to summon a scrying portal and expand it so everyone can see, and what it shows made the young Malaugrym’s humiliation complete. No doubt you can guess what it is:
The night sky over what must be ruined Dragonspear Castle, in the Sword Coast lands, was lit as bright as day by spell-glows. There, shuffling around in the air, wearing what could only be described as a satisfied expression, was a lone, lean figure. Elminster of Shadowdale, pipe trailing along behind him as he went, was treading empty night air as if he were walking the floor of his own kitchen. The Old Mage was peering down into the darkness below, ignoring black arrows and hurled stones alike—as Issaran watched, some of these missiles came close to the human wizard and promptly perished in gouts of flame—and from time to time hurling spells down into the night. Dhalgrave obligingly made the portal’s view drift down to where Elminster’s spells were going, just in time to show the watchers in the hall a spinning wheel of lightning plunge into the depths of a great host, an army of orcs clad in spired and fluted armor of ancient style—Netherese? Nimbralese, from the Dawn Days of that realm? No matter. That ornate armor did nothing to stop the wheel from bursting in an explosion that sent bolts of lightning sizzling off in all directions, hurling orc bodies for hundreds of feet and searing great swathes of ash-choked air, where all solid things had been burned away in an instant, through the massed army.
Errezha: …for the Prince’s sake. Of course, Elminster can’t just be wandering around at random, he has to be vanquishing whole armies for the Malaugrym to watch (I suppose it could have been worse – he could have been in bed with a half-dozen beautiful women, leaving all the Malaugrym weeping in awe at his sexual prowess. The gods spare us that, at least). And to no doubt remind us of how allegedly amazing he is, because Greenwood will never, ever let us forget it! *buries her face in her hands* Gah. Apparently, the mere sight of Elminster’s might is enough to make several of the watching Malaugrym swear in shock, and somewhere in the hall one of them even starts whimpering. Ah, yes, behold this great and terrible evil, everyone! He’s not even there, and he still provokes this reaction. A moment later, Elminster uses a spell to levitate a thousand of the attacking orcs to hang for a breath above another orc horde, and then dropped them all as helpless, wriggling missiles from the sky. In Asmodeus’ name, he really is fighting an entire army of thousands and winning handily! The image then moves to show that he’s protecting a small, unarmed human caravan – what, exactly, they did to earn the ire of an army of literally thousands of orcs wearing ancient, probably magical armor? Surely there can’t be enough loot there to make it worth their while?
Something that looked like a hemispherical shell of flying swords whirled endlessly around this small train of merchants, carving up any orcs bold—or crazed—enough to try to reach them. A scarlet mist of gore marked the edges of that deadly barrier, and the massed ranks of the orcs were starting to give way before its advance. The mutterings in the Great Hall grew louder and held a distinct note of awe, and of fear.
Calassara: Ah, Greenwood. Bloody as ever. One Malaugrym finally wonders if this is someone else, which is a fair question, since this whole plot depends on someone imitating Elminster’s appearance, and the Simbul did just run off – she could have come here, put on an Elminster illusion, and then gotten her murdering going! But Dhalgrave says this is the real Elminster, since he’s checked on the whereabouts of every mage of sufficient power to do this and knows what they’re all doing right now. *beat* That’s… impressive. And improbable. Did none of those people have spells to protect them from being scried on, or to misdirect any attempts? Does Dhalgrave have an exhaustive list of literally every mage of power he can double-check to make sure he’s not forgetting anyone… and have it all be accurate? Did none of these mages have decoy images of themselves to use to distract attention from their secret activities elsewhere, something Elminster himself was already doing? Alas, I fear this plot point exists solely so Dhalgrave can assure us that this is in fact Elminster, so that Issaran can be humiliated and we can all know how amazing Elminster is, with no need to think about it in any further detail! Issaran, crestfallen, wonders if this means the head isn’t Elminster after all (…you are aware that most humans only have one head, no? If Elminster is still alive – and, ah, headed – then logically, the head you have can’t be his!); in response, the head literally comes to life long enough to mockingly mime a kiss at him. *she sighs* That, admittedly, does sound like Elminster.
Errezha: Presuming that is in fact Sylune still animating it… it doesn’t say good things about her that she is so good at this. The gathered Malaugrym draw back in case the head is going to work some spell, but it just mimes three more kisses – not very creative, I must say – and then starts melting into wax. Issaran tosses it away in disgust, though before it completely dissolves it gives a final mocking chuckle that unnerves even some of the elders like Yabrant (in the form of a serpent-man, whatever that may be) and Kostil (in the form of a wyvern). Finally, Dhalgrave tiredly tells Issaran to try again; he restores the scrying portal to its original size and location and extinguishes the bloodfire, leaving Issaran alone in darkness. Issaran turns to walk dejectedly from the throne room, never seeing the Shadowmaster who stood alone on a high balcony, cloaked in deep shadows. Milhvar watched the young Malaugrym go, and there was a tight smile on his face as he shook his head. Pray tell, is Milhvar ever going to do anything with that cloak of his, or is he just going to watch his fellow Malaugrym ominously? Regardless, the scene ends here.
MG: And despite Dhalgrave telling Issaran to try again… I believe this is the last time he’s even mentioned by name in the whole book. Aren’t you so glad we spent all that time building him and his schemes, and how Milhvar was behind him, up? As for Milhvar himself, though, he is about to take a more direct hand in things than he has been, so let’s keep going!
Calassara: Oh. Well. The part about Milhvar is potentially interesting, at least? We cut to elsewhere in the Castle of Shadows, where we are immediately told about a particular treasure of Dhalgrave’s:
Deep in an inner room of the Castle of Shadows hung a gem, a sapphire as large as a man’s head. Its rich blue depths glowed with captured fire as it floated above a pool whose thick black waters had yielded many potions. A spell library of ancient Netherese make, the gem held spells of great power ready to be used by anyone who dared to touch it. All Malaugrym knew the Shadowmaster High could instruct the gem to visit death on the deliverer of any touch but his own.
Calassara: At least he’s conscious of security? Though what I’d give to get my hands on such a singular historical artifact… well, we then learn that despite Dhalgrave’s security measures, there is one way the other Malaugrym can use the gem. As apparently someone has, as forms move in the shadows and slowly meld together into Dhalgrave himself in humanoid guise, as he asks who has awakened the gem. So, is “remotely activating the gem to get Dhalgrave’s attention” the way it can be used Greenwood was alluding to? That’s disappointing. Apparently, it can also be used as a tool for communication, as a voice speaks from the gem, identifying itself as Milhvar of the Blood of Malaug, Shadowmaster High. There is a plan I must lay before you. Ah, so this is where Milhvar comes in! Dhalgrave gives him leave to continue, and so Milhvar speaks:
“There are other gems like this one in Faerûn, hidden away in vaults that have survived since the fall of Netheril. Many more spells sit in grimoires and items all over Toril, and we have seldom dared to seek them out. The deaths that the Simbul caused underscore the prudence of this caution, but our younger blood grows ever more restive, and you rightly chose this opportunity of the godstrife to send them after the Great Foe. Yet I fear not just he, but all of Mystra’s Chosen are our foes—as the Simbul is. We stand little chance of survival unless we can find some means of warding off their seeking magic, and the spells they send to slay us. The time is right for us to devote all of our skills—together, not as warring individuals—into crafting a cloak of concealing spells.” The voice paused, and then went on more strongly, “If such a thing can be woven, we could make forays into Faerûn and seize the magic long denied to us. If the Chosen confronted us there, we could fight them as equals—and better—and no harm would come to this castle around us. I have heard many kin speculating aloud as to how they’d lure Elminster here, and overwhelm him with our massed might and the power of shadows we can call on. I’d rather not see such a battle, with all its unavoidable damage, occur in our very home.” Milhvar’s voice fell silent.
Errezha: Well, at least someone is showing a slight glimmer of common sense. Is that why Milhvar has been refraining from action so far, I wonder – he wanted to let the more blatant Maalugrym’s plans fail, to hive him an opening to prevent this to Dhalgrave? But based on what we saw in the first chapter, it seems Milhvar has already created “such a cloak” himself, so I suspect his intention here may be something else. Dhalgrave indicates that he agrees with what Milhvar has said so far and bids him continue; Milhvar warns him that this plan could put Dhalgrave himself in danger (how so, exactly?), but Dhalgrave says he knows that already. Milhvar goes on to explain that he will submit his cloak to any scrying magic Dhalgrave cares to use, and they will need to make sure that while the Cloak will be effective against the Chosen, the Shadowmaster High can always track it and, if necessary, remove it; Dhalgrave might have to kill some of the more ambitious younger Malaugrym to make the point (because they might try to use the Cloak against him, I suspect?) but in the end it would only reinforce his dominion. Ah, beg pardon, but isn’t Dhalgrave supposedly dying? Isn’t he looking for an heir – isn’t that the point of all this business? How much longer is he planning to rule for, exactly? But Dhalgrave is pleased by this plan and commands Milhvar to submit to my probing immediately, oh my. He then uses the link through the gem to teleport Milhvar directly into his presence; he appears in slim man-form and is immediately bathed in light from the gem. When it clears, Dhalgrave says that Milhvar has been honest with him, which pleases him. Please by Milhvar’s loyalty, he puts further scrying spells on him to track him and commands him to assemble a team of mages to work on the Cloak, using Dhalgrave’s authority. Now, to me this seems like something we should have been doing all along, instead of wasting time on doomed assaults on Elminster… perhaps my mind simply doesn’t comprehend the genius of Greenwood’s plotting. *beat* Or not. Milhvar promises that Dhalgrave won’t regret it, and the scene ends as Dhalgrave is left alone and troubled. There had been just a shade too much triumph in that parting smile.
Calassara: Well, that is suitably ominous, I must say. Alas, I don’t trust Greenwood to follow through, at all. We then cut to Daggerdale, still on Kythorn 16, as Sharantyr is *sigh* stripping off her clothes, staring at the body of “Elminster” and contemplating the grisly task ahead. *stunned* Gah! Greenwood, think about what that sounds like! I have standards, you know! *she notices Errezha’s incredulous look* Well, I do! Sharantyr hands Belkram and Itharr her clothes and tells them not to look (I fear it’s too late – you should have said that before you stripped!) and they turn and walk off. Sharantyr then kneels by the body and picks up a knife, thinking about how hard this is going to be, and then she hears Sylune’s voice speaking to her. So yes, Sharantyr did, as was implied, know this wasn’t really Elminster – which makes her reaction at the end of the previous chapter all the stranger, no? Sylune addresses her as sister-in-arms and instructs her to make a cut at a particular point along “Elminster’s” ribs. She does, nearly throwing up (why, pray tell? This isn’t Elminster, it’s not even an actual corpse, it’s a construct, you know it’s a construct, you’re not hurting anyone or anything that’s ever been alive…) to Sylune’s exasperation. If you spew on the body… you’ll make the job a lot more distasteful. That, however… thank you for that charming mental image, Lady Silverhand!
Errezha: Personally, I could have gone without… But Sharantyr keeps dragging her feet, thinking about how this is different from cutting someone in the heat of battle and wondering how butchers and chirurgeons do it (lots of practice, I believe…) but finally she starts digging in, looking for what Sylune says is a stone, and Greenwood spends lots of time describing the blood (fake blood, admittedly, but even so…) she’s getting all over her. And again, why did Sharantyr have to be naked for this? Butchers and chirurgeons usually wear protective garments, I believe? Finally, Sharantyr does throw up – why am I having to comment on this part? – though on the ground, not on the body. Sylune tells her it’ll be worse the longer she takes, and we get more description of Sharantyr hacking at the body and getting blood all over herself – with the text explicitly noting some of it is literally dripping off her breasts, because of course, this is Greenwood – and how her hair is sticky with it and she wishes she’d tied it back and by the Prince, why are we taking so much time with this? Finally, she finds and pulls out a small stone – a piece of Sylune’s hut in Shadowdale, which serves as a focus for her spirit this far from her home, giving her the power to appear to people, speak to them, and animate the false body. Which is, more or less, what I’d have though it was – but even so, Greenwood, you could have summarized Sharantyr getting it out in a sentence or two and spared us… that.
Calassara: Other writers might have. Greenwood, though? Alas, we’re not so lucky. Sharantyr takes a moment to think about how masterful the impersonation was – of course – and then she picks up the stone, gets up and heads over to the Harpers, still dripping blood. Modesty was just going to have to be abandoned for the nonce; she had to get clean! Alas, I fear Greenwood isn’t done drooling over you yet; she holds out the stone, and Itharr tells her to close your eyes and trust in us. Not very reassuring, coming from the murderer! And she’s the one who’s naked – why should she close her eyes? But Sharantyr does and then feels someone pouring a liquid over her and washing her with it, and she finally realizes it’s zzar. *beat* Which is… what, exactly?
MG: A kind of wine, popular in Waterdeep and the Sword Coast.
Calassara: …so, Sharantyr, who is naked, was previously dripping in blood, and now she’s being washed in wine. Yes, I’m sensing some, ahem, personal appeal on Greenwood’s part here. Belkram apologizes, saying it was the first thing he thought of (oh, I doubt that) and then tells her they could lick her clean, if she wants. *beat, again* That’s… hmmm. Interesting. But pray tell, why are we doing this in the aftermath of a battle, in a field presumably still littered with Malaugrym corpses? Sharantyr tells him he’ll run to Zhentil Keep and back in a night first, and so Belkram and Itharr just end up toweling her off with an actual towel, and not… tongues.
“You won’t be the only one smelling like a tavern, though,” Itharr said. Shar opened her eyes to look a question at him and saw that both men had stripped to the waist—hairy beasts, the pair of them—and were drying her with their undershirts. She wrinkled her nose again at the thought of smelling like an unwashed, sweaty man, then smiled at their hurt expressions and said hastily, “You are sweet, both of you.”
Errezha: *rolling her eyes* Oh, look. Bodies everywhere, a bloody mess, wine used for bathing, people in various stages of undress, and copious amounts of bodily stench. *wrinkles her nose* What a charming imagination Ed Greenwood has! “Sweet” isn’t the word I’d use! But Sylune whispers in Sharantyr’s ear that she’d wondered when she was going to call them that (preferably, never!). The two rangers hand Sharantyr her clothes and armor back, and apparently they sewed up some damage to it in the short time Sharantyr spent getting the stone; she’s amazed and comments that they’d make good mates, and it seems she does not mean friends as both of them protest that they’re not crazy. After a moment, Sharantyr starts laughing, as does Sylune. *flatly* Ha. Ha. Please tell me this doesn’t mean Greenwood is about to start trying to write romance again… after his past track record, I don’t think I can bear it. Well, they have a bit more banter that I think might be supposed to be flirtatious as they finish handing Sharantyr her clothes back, and she goes behind a rock – avoiding the “Elminster” body and thus further… viscera with Sylune’s directions – to change. The rangers watch her go. Belkram and Itharr exchanged glances, smiles, and shrugs. “Worth seeing, and that’s all I’d best say,” Itharr said quietly, reaching for the zzar bottle and its cork. *flatly* Ha. Ha. Keep it up and I’ll castrate you both. It may sound harsh… but I lost my patience for Greenwood’s attempts to write about sexuality long ago.
Calassara: Now, now… I can think of… certain others… who deserve it far more! Sylune, at least, does seem to agree that enough is enough and tells the Harpers to keep any further comments to themselves; they promise to do so, and are suddenly interrupted by Sharantyr screaming. They grab their weapons and run to help – accompanied by Sylune, who wonders what’s happening now – and soon find Sharantyr hiding behind a boulder, shielding her body with her hands and asking if they brought her sword. They didn’t, as it happens, so she tells them to stand guard while she dresses. Itharr wonders why she screamed, since he’s never heard her do that before (what, not even in battle?) but Sharantyr says she does. And so would you, if you were a woman wearing nothing but a smile and walked almost right into them! Oh, I think I know where this is going… damn it all, Greenwood… Itharr wonders who “they” are… and only then do he and Belkram notice that a dozen armed men are standing around in a circle watching them. *facepalm* Some rangers you two are. And of course, Sharantyr inadvertently exposed herself in front of a half dozen armed, strange men who, for all she knows, are bandits, Zhents, Malaugrym, or at the very least hostile – and Greenwood seems to think this is funny!
Errezha: Oh, please. I read the wedding night scene in Making of a Mage; nothing Greenwood does shocks me anymore. But Belkram recognizes them as Randal Morn, Lord of Daggerdale and his court (oh, please – a handful of armed men in the middle of nowhere are not a court!) – and then we learn the reason they’re not moving is because they’re still frozen by Issaran’s spell from the previous chapter. Which I’m sure was a great comfort to Sharantyr… Sylune says that one of the rings taken from “Elminster’s” body can free them (but apparently it was being worn on the toe… wash that, before using it, for Asmodeus’s sake!) and then they can help build a pyre for “Elminster,” so they can burn the body before anyone else finds and examines it. Because of course, the reason to free them is to get cheap labor. You know, my mother can be that cynical and demanding of others… but at least Mother doesn’t pretend she’s a good person! She tells Belkram not to waste time, and he rather effusively promises not to, which makes Sylune laugh – and it’s apparently quite the loveliest chuckle he’d ever heard. …and apparently Belkram is into ghosts now. Whoever knew?
Calassara: I suppose it would require a certain… creativity… Anyway, we cut to the Castle of Shadows, where Kostil is stalking angrily through the corridors, complaining about how Dhalgrave apparently summoned a council and then never showed. Rude! Kostil insists he has plans of his own and doesn’t think the Time of Troubles is a time to be playing games; Yabrant says he agrees, and then they’re both interrupted by the sound of a bell tolling. Both of them immediately grow wings and literally fly back to the audience chamber, thinking that it can mean only one thing. They reflect on how powerful Dhalgrave was even recently, and how even now that he’s diminished he can still do things neither of them can. Moreover, all the things that laid humans low—heart attacks, diseases, poisons, the failure of veins and lesser organs—were minor annoyances to Malaugrym able to change their bodies. Those of the blood of Malaug declined slowly, losing their shapeshifting abilities fitfully, usually along with their memories. Unless they were slain. Well, that was a fascinating digression into Malaugrym aging, but is it going to actually be relevant? Or is it implying what I think it is, because if so… well, we’ll have to wait to find out, as the two elders race down the corridor while the bell keeps tolling, and the scene comes to an end.
Errezha: *morosely* Whatever this is building to – and I also think I can guess – I expect to be underwhelmed. We cut back to Daggerdale as Randal Morn thanks the Harpers for freeing him and his men (oh, please, they only wanted free labor, it wasn’t noble!) while several of said men are watching warily from nearby. The three rangers in worn leathers bowed in response. Straightening up, Sharantyr kept her features straight in the face of Brammur’s longing gaze. The old warrior was obviously smitten with her. The eyes of the other loyal men of Daggerdale said plainly that they’d not forgotten their glimpses of her, either. Oh, yes, they all ended up inadvertently ogling you – which you didn’t want, and they physically couldn’t look away from, so nobody chose it! – is just so sweet! *protectively wraps her arms tightly around herself* I have never been more glad of anything in my life than to have never been written by Greenwood! But apparently Sharantyr has apparently decided she doesn’t mind, as she gives them a cheery smile and guesses that as soon as the smoke from “Elminster’s” pyre rises, all sorts of people might be attracted to the ruins. Morn agrees, pointing out that he and his men are constantly hunted by both Zhents and mundane predators, and Belkram apologizes for forcing them to flee once again (ah, Belkram… they don’t live here, they weren’t even camped here, they came to investigate you; did you expect them to stay indefinitely?). Bremmur says it’s nothing new, and they all agree to part as friends. *flatly* How sweet.
Calassara: Itharr asks for flint, and after some chuckling they manage to get some and set a torch ablaze. Morn bids them farewell to give them time to grieve “Elminster” in private (privacy being a thing sorely lacking this chapter!); Sharantyr tells them Shadowdale is always open to them (do you even have authority to promise that?) and Belkram tells them where to find a Harper cache nearby. Morn thinks this is extravagant payment for his help with the pyre (at least they are compensating him!) but Itharr says he deserves it, since his struggle against the Zhents protects all the Dales (someone should tell that to High Dale – based on last book, I don’t think it’s working!); Morn and his men are glad to hear it, and a moment later they’re all gone. And, I suppose that’s it for them, then! Helping to build a pyre, and inadvertently ogling (and terrifying) Sharantyr; the sum total of Morn’s contribution to the plot so far! He must be so pleased!
MG: And this is, in fact, the last time we’ll be seeing Morn in this book. So… yeah, I’m pretty sure his entire role here was just so Sharantyr could run into him and his men… while she was stark naked, and they were frozen in place with literally no choice but to stand there ogling her. And nothing else.
Calassara: Greenwood! Once they’re gone, Sharantyr tells Itharr to light the pyre with the torch and takes a moment to think about how The Dales should not be lands where men’s lives were torn away from them daily by fey shapeshifters and prowling beasts. Where brigands reigned and rightful lords lived like outlaws while arrogant Zhentarim plotted the overthrow of the next dale … and the next. …how is this any different from what the Dales have always been, that we’ve seen? Sharantyr is on the verge of tears, and Belkram tells her she can cry as they ride – Sharantyr says she won’t, reminding herself that it was only the image of Elminster, not Elminster himself. So… I suppose that even the image of Elminster dying is enough to cause genuine grief, then? This is, I repeat, not even a real funeral! Nobody is dead! But Itharr lights the pyre, and the the rangers mount up and prepare to ride off. Belkram thinks they need to leave before unpleasant people or beings arrive to investigate; Sylune decides they should have a “real” pyre (what, is this one not good enough for you?). An instant later, the growing crackle of flames leapt into a bright white roar, and a pillar of fire clawed at the sky. Apparently it wasn’t good enough for you, then! The companions ride off together in silence, and the chapter ends.
MG: Ugh; this was another one I really didn’t care for. The initial scene chiefly seemed to exist solely to shill Elminster even more, and to humiliate Issaran for daring to think he’d actually managed to kill him. Meanwhile, Greenwood somehow managed to take “Sharantyr digs the stone Sylune is bound to out of the Elminster body” and make it not only gross, but also weirdly, somewhat disturbingly horny; the whole thing was just… intensely uncomfortable to read, especially once the naked Sharantyr ran into Morn and his men and the whole thing somehow ended up played for laughs(?). And yes, this is going to be the grand total of Morn’s contribution to the book; I don’t even know why Greenwood included him at all, save that he may have just really wanted to have aforesaid ogling. On the other hand, we finally started to get at least a little inkling of what Milhvar’s up to, as well as some further developments teased for the Malaugrym. Next time, the Malaugrym discover just what that bell was all about, and *sigh* we catch up with what the actual Elminster’s been doing. We’ll see you then!
Warning: This chapter contains some squicky moments, including the mutilation of a corpse.
MG: Well, everyone, it’s time to continue our journey through Ed Greenwood’s Cloak of Shadows! Last time, the Simbul showed up and casually slaughtered her way through the attacking Malaugrym, which didn’t make taking them seriously as a big threat any easier. Then Our Heroes were attacked by the Dumbest Zhent, the Malaugrym who was manipulating her, and his conjured army of hobgoblins, which resulted in the apparent death of “Elminster” – which everyone reacted to with horror, despite knowing that “Elminster” is really Sylune, who’s already a ghost, and that she and the original Elminster are both fine. Today, both the three rangers and the Malaugrym react to the previous chapter’s events and try to figure out what to do next. Joining us once again will be Errezha and Calassara!
Chapter Eight: To Get a Head in This World
Errezha: …I suppose you could get ahead in the world by having the goddess of magic fall in love with you and shower you with all manner of blessings and powers… at least, that is how Elminster did it. Alas most of us aren’t that lucky. We open in The Castle of Shadows, Kythorn 16 in Dhalgrave’s throne room as the air shimmers and a portal opens. Some of the gathered elders raise their hands to launch defensive magic – not unwise of them, considering that for all they know it might be the Simbul coming through – but it turns out to be one of their own returning. A breath later, Issaran of the blood of Malaug stepped proudly out of the spiraling emerald depths with a severed human head gripped in one fist, a staring man’s head with long white hair and a longer white beard. Alas, we already know this isn’t Elminster, and no doubt Issaran will find out the truth soon enough; I’m already embarrassed for him.
Calassara: And so Issaran calls down something called bloodfire to illuminate himself; I don’t believe we’ve ever heard of this before, but apparently doing so in the throne room when one isn’t the reigning Shadowmaster High is an act of insolence; Issaran doesn’t care, since he feels he’s now earned his position as Dhalgrave’s heir. I’m… starting to agree with Errezha on this; he’s going to be getting a nasty shock here, no doubt shortly. For now, Issaran only holds up the head, announcing that it’s Elminster, dead by his hand. *beat* Oh, for Calistria’s sake… to get a head in this world. The chapter title is a pun. Gods help us all… Dhalgrave himself, however, suddenly materializes on the throne and asks how Issaran can explain something. He waves a hand to summon a scrying portal and expand it so everyone can see, and what it shows made the young Malaugrym’s humiliation complete. No doubt you can guess what it is:
The night sky over what must be ruined Dragonspear Castle, in the Sword Coast lands, was lit as bright as day by spell-glows. There, shuffling around in the air, wearing what could only be described as a satisfied expression, was a lone, lean figure. Elminster of Shadowdale, pipe trailing along behind him as he went, was treading empty night air as if he were walking the floor of his own kitchen. The Old Mage was peering down into the darkness below, ignoring black arrows and hurled stones alike—as Issaran watched, some of these missiles came close to the human wizard and promptly perished in gouts of flame—and from time to time hurling spells down into the night. Dhalgrave obligingly made the portal’s view drift down to where Elminster’s spells were going, just in time to show the watchers in the hall a spinning wheel of lightning plunge into the depths of a great host, an army of orcs clad in spired and fluted armor of ancient style—Netherese? Nimbralese, from the Dawn Days of that realm? No matter. That ornate armor did nothing to stop the wheel from bursting in an explosion that sent bolts of lightning sizzling off in all directions, hurling orc bodies for hundreds of feet and searing great swathes of ash-choked air, where all solid things had been burned away in an instant, through the massed army.
Errezha: …for the Prince’s sake. Of course, Elminster can’t just be wandering around at random, he has to be vanquishing whole armies for the Malaugrym to watch (I suppose it could have been worse – he could have been in bed with a half-dozen beautiful women, leaving all the Malaugrym weeping in awe at his sexual prowess. The gods spare us that, at least). And to no doubt remind us of how allegedly amazing he is, because Greenwood will never, ever let us forget it! *buries her face in her hands* Gah. Apparently, the mere sight of Elminster’s might is enough to make several of the watching Malaugrym swear in shock, and somewhere in the hall one of them even starts whimpering. Ah, yes, behold this great and terrible evil, everyone! He’s not even there, and he still provokes this reaction. A moment later, Elminster uses a spell to levitate a thousand of the attacking orcs to hang for a breath above another orc horde, and then dropped them all as helpless, wriggling missiles from the sky. In Asmodeus’ name, he really is fighting an entire army of thousands and winning handily! The image then moves to show that he’s protecting a small, unarmed human caravan – what, exactly, they did to earn the ire of an army of literally thousands of orcs wearing ancient, probably magical armor? Surely there can’t be enough loot there to make it worth their while?
Something that looked like a hemispherical shell of flying swords whirled endlessly around this small train of merchants, carving up any orcs bold—or crazed—enough to try to reach them. A scarlet mist of gore marked the edges of that deadly barrier, and the massed ranks of the orcs were starting to give way before its advance. The mutterings in the Great Hall grew louder and held a distinct note of awe, and of fear.
Calassara: Ah, Greenwood. Bloody as ever. One Malaugrym finally wonders if this is someone else, which is a fair question, since this whole plot depends on someone imitating Elminster’s appearance, and the Simbul did just run off – she could have come here, put on an Elminster illusion, and then gotten her murdering going! But Dhalgrave says this is the real Elminster, since he’s checked on the whereabouts of every mage of sufficient power to do this and knows what they’re all doing right now. *beat* That’s… impressive. And improbable. Did none of those people have spells to protect them from being scried on, or to misdirect any attempts? Does Dhalgrave have an exhaustive list of literally every mage of power he can double-check to make sure he’s not forgetting anyone… and have it all be accurate? Did none of these mages have decoy images of themselves to use to distract attention from their secret activities elsewhere, something Elminster himself was already doing? Alas, I fear this plot point exists solely so Dhalgrave can assure us that this is in fact Elminster, so that Issaran can be humiliated and we can all know how amazing Elminster is, with no need to think about it in any further detail! Issaran, crestfallen, wonders if this means the head isn’t Elminster after all (…you are aware that most humans only have one head, no? If Elminster is still alive – and, ah, headed – then logically, the head you have can’t be his!); in response, the head literally comes to life long enough to mockingly mime a kiss at him. *she sighs* That, admittedly, does sound like Elminster.
Errezha: Presuming that is in fact Sylune still animating it… it doesn’t say good things about her that she is so good at this. The gathered Malaugrym draw back in case the head is going to work some spell, but it just mimes three more kisses – not very creative, I must say – and then starts melting into wax. Issaran tosses it away in disgust, though before it completely dissolves it gives a final mocking chuckle that unnerves even some of the elders like Yabrant (in the form of a serpent-man, whatever that may be) and Kostil (in the form of a wyvern). Finally, Dhalgrave tiredly tells Issaran to try again; he restores the scrying portal to its original size and location and extinguishes the bloodfire, leaving Issaran alone in darkness. Issaran turns to walk dejectedly from the throne room, never seeing the Shadowmaster who stood alone on a high balcony, cloaked in deep shadows. Milhvar watched the young Malaugrym go, and there was a tight smile on his face as he shook his head. Pray tell, is Milhvar ever going to do anything with that cloak of his, or is he just going to watch his fellow Malaugrym ominously? Regardless, the scene ends here.
MG: And despite Dhalgrave telling Issaran to try again… I believe this is the last time he’s even mentioned by name in the whole book. Aren’t you so glad we spent all that time building him and his schemes, and how Milhvar was behind him, up? As for Milhvar himself, though, he is about to take a more direct hand in things than he has been, so let’s keep going!
Calassara: Oh. Well. The part about Milhvar is potentially interesting, at least? We cut to elsewhere in the Castle of Shadows, where we are immediately told about a particular treasure of Dhalgrave’s:
Deep in an inner room of the Castle of Shadows hung a gem, a sapphire as large as a man’s head. Its rich blue depths glowed with captured fire as it floated above a pool whose thick black waters had yielded many potions. A spell library of ancient Netherese make, the gem held spells of great power ready to be used by anyone who dared to touch it. All Malaugrym knew the Shadowmaster High could instruct the gem to visit death on the deliverer of any touch but his own.
Calassara: At least he’s conscious of security? Though what I’d give to get my hands on such a singular historical artifact… well, we then learn that despite Dhalgrave’s security measures, there is one way the other Malaugrym can use the gem. As apparently someone has, as forms move in the shadows and slowly meld together into Dhalgrave himself in humanoid guise, as he asks who has awakened the gem. So, is “remotely activating the gem to get Dhalgrave’s attention” the way it can be used Greenwood was alluding to? That’s disappointing. Apparently, it can also be used as a tool for communication, as a voice speaks from the gem, identifying itself as Milhvar of the Blood of Malaug, Shadowmaster High. There is a plan I must lay before you. Ah, so this is where Milhvar comes in! Dhalgrave gives him leave to continue, and so Milhvar speaks:
“There are other gems like this one in Faerûn, hidden away in vaults that have survived since the fall of Netheril. Many more spells sit in grimoires and items all over Toril, and we have seldom dared to seek them out. The deaths that the Simbul caused underscore the prudence of this caution, but our younger blood grows ever more restive, and you rightly chose this opportunity of the godstrife to send them after the Great Foe. Yet I fear not just he, but all of Mystra’s Chosen are our foes—as the Simbul is. We stand little chance of survival unless we can find some means of warding off their seeking magic, and the spells they send to slay us. The time is right for us to devote all of our skills—together, not as warring individuals—into crafting a cloak of concealing spells.” The voice paused, and then went on more strongly, “If such a thing can be woven, we could make forays into Faerûn and seize the magic long denied to us. If the Chosen confronted us there, we could fight them as equals—and better—and no harm would come to this castle around us. I have heard many kin speculating aloud as to how they’d lure Elminster here, and overwhelm him with our massed might and the power of shadows we can call on. I’d rather not see such a battle, with all its unavoidable damage, occur in our very home.” Milhvar’s voice fell silent.
Errezha: Well, at least someone is showing a slight glimmer of common sense. Is that why Milhvar has been refraining from action so far, I wonder – he wanted to let the more blatant Maalugrym’s plans fail, to hive him an opening to prevent this to Dhalgrave? But based on what we saw in the first chapter, it seems Milhvar has already created “such a cloak” himself, so I suspect his intention here may be something else. Dhalgrave indicates that he agrees with what Milhvar has said so far and bids him continue; Milhvar warns him that this plan could put Dhalgrave himself in danger (how so, exactly?), but Dhalgrave says he knows that already. Milhvar goes on to explain that he will submit his cloak to any scrying magic Dhalgrave cares to use, and they will need to make sure that while the Cloak will be effective against the Chosen, the Shadowmaster High can always track it and, if necessary, remove it; Dhalgrave might have to kill some of the more ambitious younger Malaugrym to make the point (because they might try to use the Cloak against him, I suspect?) but in the end it would only reinforce his dominion. Ah, beg pardon, but isn’t Dhalgrave supposedly dying? Isn’t he looking for an heir – isn’t that the point of all this business? How much longer is he planning to rule for, exactly? But Dhalgrave is pleased by this plan and commands Milhvar to submit to my probing immediately, oh my. He then uses the link through the gem to teleport Milhvar directly into his presence; he appears in slim man-form and is immediately bathed in light from the gem. When it clears, Dhalgrave says that Milhvar has been honest with him, which pleases him. Please by Milhvar’s loyalty, he puts further scrying spells on him to track him and commands him to assemble a team of mages to work on the Cloak, using Dhalgrave’s authority. Now, to me this seems like something we should have been doing all along, instead of wasting time on doomed assaults on Elminster… perhaps my mind simply doesn’t comprehend the genius of Greenwood’s plotting. *beat* Or not. Milhvar promises that Dhalgrave won’t regret it, and the scene ends as Dhalgrave is left alone and troubled. There had been just a shade too much triumph in that parting smile.
Calassara: Well, that is suitably ominous, I must say. Alas, I don’t trust Greenwood to follow through, at all. We then cut to Daggerdale, still on Kythorn 16, as Sharantyr is *sigh* stripping off her clothes, staring at the body of “Elminster” and contemplating the grisly task ahead. *stunned* Gah! Greenwood, think about what that sounds like! I have standards, you know! *she notices Errezha’s incredulous look* Well, I do! Sharantyr hands Belkram and Itharr her clothes and tells them not to look (I fear it’s too late – you should have said that before you stripped!) and they turn and walk off. Sharantyr then kneels by the body and picks up a knife, thinking about how hard this is going to be, and then she hears Sylune’s voice speaking to her. So yes, Sharantyr did, as was implied, know this wasn’t really Elminster – which makes her reaction at the end of the previous chapter all the stranger, no? Sylune addresses her as sister-in-arms and instructs her to make a cut at a particular point along “Elminster’s” ribs. She does, nearly throwing up (why, pray tell? This isn’t Elminster, it’s not even an actual corpse, it’s a construct, you know it’s a construct, you’re not hurting anyone or anything that’s ever been alive…) to Sylune’s exasperation. If you spew on the body… you’ll make the job a lot more distasteful. That, however… thank you for that charming mental image, Lady Silverhand!
Errezha: Personally, I could have gone without… But Sharantyr keeps dragging her feet, thinking about how this is different from cutting someone in the heat of battle and wondering how butchers and chirurgeons do it (lots of practice, I believe…) but finally she starts digging in, looking for what Sylune says is a stone, and Greenwood spends lots of time describing the blood (fake blood, admittedly, but even so…) she’s getting all over her. And again, why did Sharantyr have to be naked for this? Butchers and chirurgeons usually wear protective garments, I believe? Finally, Sharantyr does throw up – why am I having to comment on this part? – though on the ground, not on the body. Sylune tells her it’ll be worse the longer she takes, and we get more description of Sharantyr hacking at the body and getting blood all over herself – with the text explicitly noting some of it is literally dripping off her breasts, because of course, this is Greenwood – and how her hair is sticky with it and she wishes she’d tied it back and by the Prince, why are we taking so much time with this? Finally, she finds and pulls out a small stone – a piece of Sylune’s hut in Shadowdale, which serves as a focus for her spirit this far from her home, giving her the power to appear to people, speak to them, and animate the false body. Which is, more or less, what I’d have though it was – but even so, Greenwood, you could have summarized Sharantyr getting it out in a sentence or two and spared us… that.
Calassara: Other writers might have. Greenwood, though? Alas, we’re not so lucky. Sharantyr takes a moment to think about how masterful the impersonation was – of course – and then she picks up the stone, gets up and heads over to the Harpers, still dripping blood. Modesty was just going to have to be abandoned for the nonce; she had to get clean! Alas, I fear Greenwood isn’t done drooling over you yet; she holds out the stone, and Itharr tells her to close your eyes and trust in us. Not very reassuring, coming from the murderer! And she’s the one who’s naked – why should she close her eyes? But Sharantyr does and then feels someone pouring a liquid over her and washing her with it, and she finally realizes it’s zzar. *beat* Which is… what, exactly?
MG: A kind of wine, popular in Waterdeep and the Sword Coast.
Calassara: …so, Sharantyr, who is naked, was previously dripping in blood, and now she’s being washed in wine. Yes, I’m sensing some, ahem, personal appeal on Greenwood’s part here. Belkram apologizes, saying it was the first thing he thought of (oh, I doubt that) and then tells her they could lick her clean, if she wants. *beat, again* That’s… hmmm. Interesting. But pray tell, why are we doing this in the aftermath of a battle, in a field presumably still littered with Malaugrym corpses? Sharantyr tells him he’ll run to Zhentil Keep and back in a night first, and so Belkram and Itharr just end up toweling her off with an actual towel, and not… tongues.
“You won’t be the only one smelling like a tavern, though,” Itharr said. Shar opened her eyes to look a question at him and saw that both men had stripped to the waist—hairy beasts, the pair of them—and were drying her with their undershirts. She wrinkled her nose again at the thought of smelling like an unwashed, sweaty man, then smiled at their hurt expressions and said hastily, “You are sweet, both of you.”
Errezha: *rolling her eyes* Oh, look. Bodies everywhere, a bloody mess, wine used for bathing, people in various stages of undress, and copious amounts of bodily stench. *wrinkles her nose* What a charming imagination Ed Greenwood has! “Sweet” isn’t the word I’d use! But Sylune whispers in Sharantyr’s ear that she’d wondered when she was going to call them that (preferably, never!). The two rangers hand Sharantyr her clothes and armor back, and apparently they sewed up some damage to it in the short time Sharantyr spent getting the stone; she’s amazed and comments that they’d make good mates, and it seems she does not mean friends as both of them protest that they’re not crazy. After a moment, Sharantyr starts laughing, as does Sylune. *flatly* Ha. Ha. Please tell me this doesn’t mean Greenwood is about to start trying to write romance again… after his past track record, I don’t think I can bear it. Well, they have a bit more banter that I think might be supposed to be flirtatious as they finish handing Sharantyr her clothes back, and she goes behind a rock – avoiding the “Elminster” body and thus further… viscera with Sylune’s directions – to change. The rangers watch her go. Belkram and Itharr exchanged glances, smiles, and shrugs. “Worth seeing, and that’s all I’d best say,” Itharr said quietly, reaching for the zzar bottle and its cork. *flatly* Ha. Ha. Keep it up and I’ll castrate you both. It may sound harsh… but I lost my patience for Greenwood’s attempts to write about sexuality long ago.
Calassara: Now, now… I can think of… certain others… who deserve it far more! Sylune, at least, does seem to agree that enough is enough and tells the Harpers to keep any further comments to themselves; they promise to do so, and are suddenly interrupted by Sharantyr screaming. They grab their weapons and run to help – accompanied by Sylune, who wonders what’s happening now – and soon find Sharantyr hiding behind a boulder, shielding her body with her hands and asking if they brought her sword. They didn’t, as it happens, so she tells them to stand guard while she dresses. Itharr wonders why she screamed, since he’s never heard her do that before (what, not even in battle?) but Sharantyr says she does. And so would you, if you were a woman wearing nothing but a smile and walked almost right into them! Oh, I think I know where this is going… damn it all, Greenwood… Itharr wonders who “they” are… and only then do he and Belkram notice that a dozen armed men are standing around in a circle watching them. *facepalm* Some rangers you two are. And of course, Sharantyr inadvertently exposed herself in front of a half dozen armed, strange men who, for all she knows, are bandits, Zhents, Malaugrym, or at the very least hostile – and Greenwood seems to think this is funny!
Errezha: Oh, please. I read the wedding night scene in Making of a Mage; nothing Greenwood does shocks me anymore. But Belkram recognizes them as Randal Morn, Lord of Daggerdale and his court (oh, please – a handful of armed men in the middle of nowhere are not a court!) – and then we learn the reason they’re not moving is because they’re still frozen by Issaran’s spell from the previous chapter. Which I’m sure was a great comfort to Sharantyr… Sylune says that one of the rings taken from “Elminster’s” body can free them (but apparently it was being worn on the toe… wash that, before using it, for Asmodeus’s sake!) and then they can help build a pyre for “Elminster,” so they can burn the body before anyone else finds and examines it. Because of course, the reason to free them is to get cheap labor. You know, my mother can be that cynical and demanding of others… but at least Mother doesn’t pretend she’s a good person! She tells Belkram not to waste time, and he rather effusively promises not to, which makes Sylune laugh – and it’s apparently quite the loveliest chuckle he’d ever heard. …and apparently Belkram is into ghosts now. Whoever knew?
Calassara: I suppose it would require a certain… creativity… Anyway, we cut to the Castle of Shadows, where Kostil is stalking angrily through the corridors, complaining about how Dhalgrave apparently summoned a council and then never showed. Rude! Kostil insists he has plans of his own and doesn’t think the Time of Troubles is a time to be playing games; Yabrant says he agrees, and then they’re both interrupted by the sound of a bell tolling. Both of them immediately grow wings and literally fly back to the audience chamber, thinking that it can mean only one thing. They reflect on how powerful Dhalgrave was even recently, and how even now that he’s diminished he can still do things neither of them can. Moreover, all the things that laid humans low—heart attacks, diseases, poisons, the failure of veins and lesser organs—were minor annoyances to Malaugrym able to change their bodies. Those of the blood of Malaug declined slowly, losing their shapeshifting abilities fitfully, usually along with their memories. Unless they were slain. Well, that was a fascinating digression into Malaugrym aging, but is it going to actually be relevant? Or is it implying what I think it is, because if so… well, we’ll have to wait to find out, as the two elders race down the corridor while the bell keeps tolling, and the scene comes to an end.
Errezha: *morosely* Whatever this is building to – and I also think I can guess – I expect to be underwhelmed. We cut back to Daggerdale as Randal Morn thanks the Harpers for freeing him and his men (oh, please, they only wanted free labor, it wasn’t noble!) while several of said men are watching warily from nearby. The three rangers in worn leathers bowed in response. Straightening up, Sharantyr kept her features straight in the face of Brammur’s longing gaze. The old warrior was obviously smitten with her. The eyes of the other loyal men of Daggerdale said plainly that they’d not forgotten their glimpses of her, either. Oh, yes, they all ended up inadvertently ogling you – which you didn’t want, and they physically couldn’t look away from, so nobody chose it! – is just so sweet! *protectively wraps her arms tightly around herself* I have never been more glad of anything in my life than to have never been written by Greenwood! But apparently Sharantyr has apparently decided she doesn’t mind, as she gives them a cheery smile and guesses that as soon as the smoke from “Elminster’s” pyre rises, all sorts of people might be attracted to the ruins. Morn agrees, pointing out that he and his men are constantly hunted by both Zhents and mundane predators, and Belkram apologizes for forcing them to flee once again (ah, Belkram… they don’t live here, they weren’t even camped here, they came to investigate you; did you expect them to stay indefinitely?). Bremmur says it’s nothing new, and they all agree to part as friends. *flatly* How sweet.
Calassara: Itharr asks for flint, and after some chuckling they manage to get some and set a torch ablaze. Morn bids them farewell to give them time to grieve “Elminster” in private (privacy being a thing sorely lacking this chapter!); Sharantyr tells them Shadowdale is always open to them (do you even have authority to promise that?) and Belkram tells them where to find a Harper cache nearby. Morn thinks this is extravagant payment for his help with the pyre (at least they are compensating him!) but Itharr says he deserves it, since his struggle against the Zhents protects all the Dales (someone should tell that to High Dale – based on last book, I don’t think it’s working!); Morn and his men are glad to hear it, and a moment later they’re all gone. And, I suppose that’s it for them, then! Helping to build a pyre, and inadvertently ogling (and terrifying) Sharantyr; the sum total of Morn’s contribution to the plot so far! He must be so pleased!
MG: And this is, in fact, the last time we’ll be seeing Morn in this book. So… yeah, I’m pretty sure his entire role here was just so Sharantyr could run into him and his men… while she was stark naked, and they were frozen in place with literally no choice but to stand there ogling her. And nothing else.
Calassara: Greenwood! Once they’re gone, Sharantyr tells Itharr to light the pyre with the torch and takes a moment to think about how The Dales should not be lands where men’s lives were torn away from them daily by fey shapeshifters and prowling beasts. Where brigands reigned and rightful lords lived like outlaws while arrogant Zhentarim plotted the overthrow of the next dale … and the next. …how is this any different from what the Dales have always been, that we’ve seen? Sharantyr is on the verge of tears, and Belkram tells her she can cry as they ride – Sharantyr says she won’t, reminding herself that it was only the image of Elminster, not Elminster himself. So… I suppose that even the image of Elminster dying is enough to cause genuine grief, then? This is, I repeat, not even a real funeral! Nobody is dead! But Itharr lights the pyre, and the the rangers mount up and prepare to ride off. Belkram thinks they need to leave before unpleasant people or beings arrive to investigate; Sylune decides they should have a “real” pyre (what, is this one not good enough for you?). An instant later, the growing crackle of flames leapt into a bright white roar, and a pillar of fire clawed at the sky. Apparently it wasn’t good enough for you, then! The companions ride off together in silence, and the chapter ends.
MG: Ugh; this was another one I really didn’t care for. The initial scene chiefly seemed to exist solely to shill Elminster even more, and to humiliate Issaran for daring to think he’d actually managed to kill him. Meanwhile, Greenwood somehow managed to take “Sharantyr digs the stone Sylune is bound to out of the Elminster body” and make it not only gross, but also weirdly, somewhat disturbingly horny; the whole thing was just… intensely uncomfortable to read, especially once the naked Sharantyr ran into Morn and his men and the whole thing somehow ended up played for laughs(?). And yes, this is going to be the grand total of Morn’s contribution to the book; I don’t even know why Greenwood included him at all, save that he may have just really wanted to have aforesaid ogling. On the other hand, we finally started to get at least a little inkling of what Milhvar’s up to, as well as some further developments teased for the Malaugrym. Next time, the Malaugrym discover just what that bell was all about, and *sigh* we catch up with what the actual Elminster’s been doing. We’ll see you then!
