Planar Chaos: Bk. 2 by Timothy Sanders

Author:Timothy Sanders [Sanders, Timothy]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9780786942497
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast Publishing
Published: 2018-03-27T00:00:00+00:00

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How very rude, thought the Weaver King. He had taken special pains to aid one of his subjects in need, and the wretch didn’t even acknowledge the effort.

The Weaver King gleefully skated across the skein he had stretched across Urborg, exhilarated and giddy. What a rare treasure Venser was, a rare opportunity. So much potential to develop, so many urges to nurture.

He quickly forgave Venser for overlooking the Weaver King’s aid in quieting the willow sentry. To be fair, it was very unlikely Venser could have spotted the Weaver King’s subtle hand at work. Since Windgrace had marked the artificer’s mind off limits, the Weaver King had been forced to weave his most subtle webs, to forge connections so delicate and refined they were like whispers on the wind. Windgrace himself had overlooked the Weaver King’s continued presence in Venser’s mind, and he consoled himself that Venser was far less keen than the panther-god.

However keen his mind, Venser had other strong points that stirred the Weaver King’s interest. In his panicked state, the artificer had somehow moved himself out of the willow’s clutches, vanishing then reappearing as effectively as any shadow creature—yet Venser was wholly flesh and blood. Venser was not ephemeral like the Weaver King or Dinne, but neither did he have the unassailable presence of a Windgrace. If Venser wasn’t insubstantial or omnipotent, how did he do what he had done?

The Weaver King slowed his flight and focused on those strands that connected him to Venser and Jodah. The archmage was also partially protected by Windgrace’s lingering presence but just as vulnerable to the Weaver King’s finer efforts. He made a mental note to look more deeply into Jodah when the chance occurred. The crafty four-thousand-year-old archwizard had kept many secrets hidden when the Weaver King first met him, but now, like Venser, his true value was becoming clear.

Venser and Jodah, Jodah and Venser. The Weaver King slid back and forth on the silver threads he had spun between his two new favorites. Joy and desire burned brightly in the Weaver King’s jagged mind. There was so much to play with here. So many things they could do, so many things he could make them do if they’d only take the time to listen.

He knew he didn’t dare speak much louder for fear of rousing the panther. It was a kind of exquisite torture, this self-denial. The Weaver King had rarely even contemplated restraint before, but for once he took his pleasure in the waiting, in the consideration of what he wanted versus the price he’d pay for getting it. He felt wise and virtuous simply for searching for alternatives to his usual fervid rush toward his amusements.

He was soon rewarded for his patience. As he hung back and simply observed the two, he noted how deeply Venser focused on his beloved machine. When he was like this there was almost nothing the Weaver King could say or suggest that would appeal to the artificer. Venser’s

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