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ic to summon me home again。
Thus explaining my impending disappearance from the cage； Valas thought。 And； hopefully； causing the aboleth to think that any search for me will be futile。
Once again； he noticed that his nostril had filled with mucus； and he blew it out。 He scrubbed his face furiously with a sleeve； but it only served to spread the tentacle slime across his face。 Growing worried； Valas stopped scrubbing。 The image of the drow…thing that had been herding the jellyfish loomed large in his mind。 Was his left ear tingling？ He resisted the urge to reach up and touch it； fearful that it might already be melting away。
〃You will not return to your city；〃 the aboleth said。
Valas shuddered； fighting down the sick feeling that filled his stomach。
Am I to be made a slave？ Does your city have no matron mother… no ruler whom I can appeal to？
A ripple passed through the aboleth's body。 Valas wondered whether it was a sign of annoyance or pleasure。
〃It has been many flows since Oothoon met with one of the dry folk。 You are merely a servant among your people and do not warrant her attention。 As for your question； you are a slave to Oothoon already。 When your transformation is plete； you will begin to serve her。〃
This time； Valas did touch his ear。 Its tip was still pointed； but it was definitely tingling； as was the left side of his face； and his left hand and wrist。 The fingers of that hand felt sticky。 Trying to spread them； he found that his forefinger was starting to fuse with the one beside it； and the little finger with the finger beside it。 A web of grayish skin was growing between the two malformed digits and was already up to the first knuckle。
How long will the transformation take？ he asked； his left hand already clumsy。
〃No longer than three boorms；〃 the aboleth said。 〃When it is finished； I will return to release you。〃
With a powerful flick of its tail； it swam away。
Valas had no idea how long a 〃boorm〃 was。 It might be as long as one cycle of Narbondel…in which case； he still might have time to make it back to the others if Pharaun's spell didn't run out first。 Or； for all he knew； a boorm might be as short as a heartbeat。 Glancing at his left hand； he shuddered。 The sooner he started back； the better。 The aboleth was swimming strongly back toward the city； no longer looking at him。
Valas touched the nine…pointed star on his chest and felt the familiar wrench of its magic。 He found himself standing in the spot he'd chosen…a good hundred paces away…but the cage had been transported there with him。 It landed on a fresh patch of kelp； raising a knee…high cloud of dirt and scattering a school of tiny； frightened fish。
Had part or his body touched the cage…was that why it had slid sideways between the dimensions with him？ The cage was far too heavy to have been included in the talisman's magic； but it was the only explanation Valas could think of。
Sculling； he positioned himself exactly at the center of the cage； and tried again…a shorter hop。 Once again； the cage came with him。
Valas frowned。 The cage was obviously somehow enchanted to contain him no matter where he went。 If his brooch had been more powerful； he might have used its magic to transport himself across the lake in a series of short hops…following the predominant current of the lake back to the waterfall that must be its source。 But the brooch's magic was limited。 After two more hops like the first one； it would fall dormant for a full cycle。
Meanwhile； the slime left by the tentacle was creeping across his face and up his left arm。 He breathed in a deep lungful of water； then blew it out through his nose； clearing his nostrils。 How much longer did he have？ As least his mind was still his own； and he suspected that it was one thing he would probably retain。 The drow…thing had exhibited free will。 It had been able to warn Valas away from Zanhoriloch…for all the good that had done。
Time to try something else； the scout thought。
Valas plucked another of his magical…items from his shirt： a short mithral tube no longer than his finger。 Sculling with his left hand…the webs had already grown up to the second knuckle…he tapped the tube against one of the bars of the cage。 A bright； clear note carried through the water； but nothing happened。 Whatever door there might be in the cage was not responding to the chime's magic。
Slipping the chime back to a pocket； Valas reached for his last hope； a brooch set with a dull gray stone that was surrounded by a dozen tiny； uncut gems。 Made by the deep gnomes； the brooch had the power to wrap its wearer in illusion； giving him whatever appearance he could imagine。 It didn't actually transform the wearer； nor did it have the power to manifest more plicated illusions…like making a drow appear to be an aboleth； for example…but it would allow Valas to create subtle changes in his appearance。
He twisted the gem in its facing； and felt a warm shiver run through his body。 Looking down； he 〃saw〃 webbed hands and feet and a fluked tail。 The brooch's magic had worked； giving him the appearance of the drow…thing。
Everything depended on his guess： that the magic of the cage would be negated； once his transformation was plete。 Kicking his legs； he propelled himself up toward the roof of the cage； praying that it would disappear。
His head struck bars with a crack that made sparks dance in front of his eyes。 Grimacing； he drifted back toward the center of the cage。
That was it then。 The brooch had been his final hope。 Even the illusion magic of the deep gnomes was powerless against the cage that held him。 He was trapped。 All he could do was wait until his body caught up with the illusion he'd just created。 Until he turned into a drow…thing himself。
I won't let it happen； he thought。 I deserve a good clean death。 A soldier's death。 Not this。
He yanked out one of his kukris…the one that sent a jolt of magical energy through whatever it struck。 The magic wouldn't affect him if he was holding the dagger…a precaution against accidental wounds…but if he shoved the hilt int