Umber

Borch and Geoffrey debate who will travel to Crater Ridge to aid in the final battle.

The gathering of paladins within the cathedral of Rel Domris ended on a sober note with the unmasking of the psionic infiltrators and the death of one of the knights. As the warriors filed back out the way they had come there were only sporadic pockets of murmured conversation, most leaving in orderly, thoughtful silence. Sir Geoffrey stopped to chastise a knot of young paladins he overheard questioning the king’s wisdom in preventing one psion’s suicide attempt. The discussion took longer than he intended, and by the time he emerged from the cathedral he had lost sight of the individual with whom he intended to speak.
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What happens when Oerth’s paladins recover something they didn’t realize they’d lost.

Under the directed concentration of half a hundred paladins, the psionic cage sags and melts. Released from their bondage, the soul fragments soar down from the reaches of the cathedral, twisting their way past the arched supports of a ceiling that seems to reach nearly to Celestia itself.
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The deposed and returned high priest of Tharizdun tries to allay lingering suspicions. (sab)

“I will tell you all I know,” says Varachan, “but you must realize that the High Priest’s function is to manage the temple at large. The full details of what the Doomdreamers do in the inner fane are known only to them.
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In Greyhawk on business for Clement, Sir Geoffrey find the adventurers preparing for a final conflict with the Tharizdunians at Crater Ridge.

Brin was astonished at the changes in Greyhawk. She had never seen it before its destruction, but Willie assured her that its grandeur had been largely restored and very little augmented. Judging from its appearance, she could see why they didn’t bother; the jewel of the Flaeness was impressive enough merely put back as it was.
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Svengali looks for an explanation of his abrupt, unwilling sojourn on the Plane of Shadow.

Not a good time. Willie uncurled himself cautiously from Brin’s largely somnolent thoughts. She is finally resting.

Finally? her visitor asked. What does that mean?

It would be better to come back later, Willie said. Why have you come? You never have before.
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Brin struggles with duty and affection as Clement orders Hadrack relieved of his command and prevented from returning to Crater Ridge as the Hedrack persona – by whatever means are necessary.

“I’m sorry,” Brin said softly as Hadrack approached from behind.

Of all the things he thought she might say, he hadn’t expected that. “Sorry? For what?”

“For all of this. For telling the king. For you losing your command, as if everything else weren’t enough…”
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Klavicus suggests to Svengali that the Alpha may be serving as a conduit for Tharizdun’s return.

As Svengali suspected, when he returned, as abruptly as he’d left, Klavicus was waiting for him. “That was precipitate,” the balor remarked. “And not I assume, given the profanity preceding it, your idea.”

“Definitely not,” Svengali replied, sinking onto the dragonhide sofa.
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The melancholy truth about Hadrack is revealed, as the mental barriers he has erected to suppress his dual existence as Hedrack continue to crumble.

A few miles from the Three Feathers Inn Hadrack sat alone at the base of a diseased, fallen tree, his head in his hands, what was visible of his face in torchlight looking fatigued and defeated. Within sight but out of hearing Corwin, Dryden and the rest of Cuthbert’s once-upon-a-time Storm Riders stood in a tight knot talking quietly and urgently. As recently as a week ago the two groups might have been nearly invisible to one another, but the Crater Ridge blight had infected the forest; the cause of its rapid jump over so far a distance was the reason Hadrack looked so miserable, and his companions so disturbed. Brin had positioned herself with her back to the ranger, but Willie’s face peered over her shoulder at him, and she turned when the weasel jumped down and scurried toward Hadrack. The glances of ranger and cleric met for a moment, but her face was as expressionless as a death mask, and she quickly turned away.
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An unlikely allegiance between the adventurers and the archmage Tenser forms as a virulent disease engineered by the psions and perverted by the Tharizdunians spirals out of control, threatening to wipe out Oerth’s entire population.

Brin was trying to fall into elven meditation in the spreading desolation outside of Hommlet, and failing miserably, when she felt a presence in her mind. Opening to it, she said, “I suppose I shouldn’t be surpised that you already know.”

An image of Hadrack appeared to her, worried and, she thought, more than usually fatigued, almost haggard. “Are you all right?” he asked.

Her reply was peevish as she began ticking off events on the image of her fingers. “Let’s see. Blastir tried to undo our efforts to destroy the Blade of Fiery Might. He very nearly succeeded. Corwin is, as far as I know, walking into the full force of Crater Ridge alone. And as you’ve no doubt heard, the rest of us are trapped in a zone of disease and decay. It’s spreading outward and there isn’t a damn thing we can do to stop it. We’ve infected Rufus and Tenser as well as ourselves. It’s only a matter of time before it reaches Hommlet, and Rastor, and from there I suppose, spreading over all of Oerth, destroying everything in its path. Do you think we’re all right?” She sighed. “I’m sorry. It just hasn’t been a good day.”
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The reforging of the Blade of Fiery Might is prevented, and Ammitai discovers the meaning of the Purple Plume.

“But she’s been out there for several hours now, sir, just circling about in the woods on the outskirts of town.”

Sir Geoffrey barely glanced up from his almost finished paperwork. “Presumably for approximately half an hour longer than the last time you told me she was out there.” He had a difficult time hiding his exasperation. His new assistant was fresh-faced and eager, and while he hated to dampen the young man’s enthusiasm the numerous interruptions of dubious import were becoming intolerable.
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