The sage stood by the doorway, bottle in hand, still grappling with the fact that Jack had eluded him and was now ensconced in his kitchen. "Come back tomorrow with one hundred pieces of gold, and I'll consider your question. Until then, Jack, I want nothing to do with you."

"Sample the brandy, then. It is Cedrizarun's work. A chance to savor it should be worth a thousand gold crowns, let alone a hundred."

"I expect that you have simply poured more Sembian horse piss into this noble vessel, hoping to deceive me in that manner," Ontrodes rumbled, but he complied.

He took a pair of sturdy tongs from a hook on the wall and carefully broke the seal of the bottle, removing the cork with surprising deftness and care. Then he held the bottle to his nose and inhaled.

Ontrodes's bloodshot eyes flew open wide, and his mouth fell open. He stared down at the bottle in frank amazement and then inhaled again.

"I do not know if this is Cedrizarun's work or not," he whispered, "but it is surely an old, mature, exquisite and potent dwarven brandy. There can be no doubt of that! Jack, I might almost find it in my heart to forgive you the destruction of my home." He hurried to find a suitable glass.

Jack smiled. "As I said before, what are the means by which a person might copy someone's appearance or create a duplicate of the target for nefarious ends?"

Ontrodes poured a dram of the golden liquid into a fine tall glass on the sideboard. Jack used a minor cantrip to do the same for himself, bringing his glass dancing through the air to his hand. The sage glared at him, but Jack had been careful to help himself to the merest portion.

"I am not an expert in these matters," the sage said. "My learning lies-"

"I know, I know, Ontrodes. Liqueurs, cordials, wines, and brandies. I seek your advice in this matter fully cognizant of your limitations."

"Fine, then. I can think of five principal methods on first examination: spells of illusion, spells of transformation, magical items permitting the same, the natural abilities of certain monsters such as doppelgangers or demons, and simulacra or clones. There may of course be other means."

"Could we narrow the field by limiting the means to those that would copy abilities other than sheer physical characteristics? For example, personal knowledge or magical ability?"

"That is easily done. Illusions and transmutations do not generally confer any special knowledge or magical ability upon the person changed, nor do magical devices duplicating their effects." Caught by the question, Ontrodes thought for a long moment. "I have heard of doppelgangers that could copy such things, but only by slaying the target and devouring his brain."

"We can rule out that one, thank the gods," Jack said.

"Then I imagine that you are left with two likely explanations: a simulacrum of some kind or one of the more mundane means employed by a mage who has carefully researched the target."

The second made sense-any competent mage could work the magic that Jack had seen his shadowy twin employ, and any competent cutthroat could have observed his comings and goings to learn of his association with Illyth, but the first confused him.

"The latter seems more likely, but I do not rule out the former. What is a simulacrum?"

"A magical construct or creature built from snow, or mud, or something similar and then infused with a kind of pseudo-life. It is perfectly accurate to casual observation, but its abilities are only a pale mirror of the person it is built to resemble. A clone, on the other hand, is a real, living person magically grown from some tiny part of its model. Both of these things are, of course, exceedingly rare and powerful magics, Jack." The sage narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You're not thinking of trying to copy somebody, are you?"

"Ontrodes, have you heard nothing I have said? It seems that somebody has copied me," Jack said glumly. "Two days past I encountered a rather gray-faced fellow who looked like me, fought as I fight, and even seemed to know some of the magics I know. I cut him once, but he didn't bleed normally. His blood was dark and seemed to vanish after a moment on the ground."

"That is very odd," murmured the sage. "Gray faced, you say? Did he have a different appearance when he stood in shadow and when he stood in sunlight?"

"It would be hard to-wait, no, I think he did. Yes, definitely he did. It struck me as very peculiar."

"Doubly odd," Ontrodes said. With trembling hands he raised the glass to his lips and tried one tentative sip, swilling the liquor in his mouth, an expression of purest bliss etched on his coarse features. "Exquisite, exquisite! Remarkable! Be careful with your taste, my boy, this is potent stuff!"

Jack tried his. The taste was extraordinary, a glimpse of pure fire captured in a stream of gold. The fumes seemed to burn delightfully all the way through his skull, yet the taste was sweet and strong, indescribably so. He grinned in delight, then turned back to the issue at hand.

"What was doubly odd about that?"

"What? Oh, the shadow. You see, that is a characteristic usually observed in a shade."

"A shade?" Jack leaned forward, interested. "Now, what in Faerun is a shade?"

"Not from Faerun at all, dear boy, but the plane of shadow. Another rare and difficult process, in which a person exchanges his own life-force for the stuff of shadow."

"So a mage hostile to me has made himself a shade, studied my habits and appearance, and worked a simple illusion to borrow my appearance?" Jack shook his head. "That seems far-fetched."

"The other possibility is that a mage has found a way to create simulacra using shadow stuff as the working material, so to speak. I suppose it could be done."

"Who would go to that much trouble to discomfit me?" Jack wondered aloud.

Tiger and Mantis were still his first guess, but who else might be responsible? Iphegor the Black certainly had the motive, but he had already demonstrated an interest in a much more direct sort of retribution. Morgath and Saerk almost certainly lacked the magical skills to do such a thing. Marcus and Ashwillow would never move against a noble of the city in order to get at a common thief, and besides, they probably lacked the magical skill as well. Zandria had the skill, but it was not clear why she would strike at Illyth. Of course, there was Elana, who knew people who had the skill, and who might be sufficiently ruthless to order Illyth's abduction.

It didn't make sense. As far as he knew, no mage he'd ever heard of might be a shade. That left the other possibility, that some wizard hostile to him had learned how to make shadow-simulacra.

The Sarkonagael: Secrets of the Shadewrights.

He'd delivered it to Elana, allowed her to reveal her true identity, and then refused her. She might not be a wizard herself, but Yu Wei was in her employ, along with others perhaps. Could Elana have ordered Jack's elimination by means of a spell from the book he'd stolen for her?

"Damn," he muttered. "I'm going to have to track her down, and I'll have to find out if she is really behind this or not."

"Track who down, Jack?" asked Ontrodes.

"Noble Ontrodes, I hesitate to say more lest I endanger you as well," Jack replied. "You are better off ignorant of my affairs."

"That's hardly fair. Knowledge is my livelihood, and you certainly owe me an explanation. When can I learn more?" the sage demanded.

Jack stood suddenly and drained the rest of his brandy. His head reeled pleasantly, despite the fact he'd had only a swallow. "Strong stuff, indeed," Jack said. "With luck, I may be able to explain more in a day or three. But first, I have a shadow to catch." He let himself out into the night and stood outside Ontrodes's ruined tower, thinking about where to spend the night.