All Shadows Fled - Ed Greenwood [102]
Irendue's body trembled as the spell energy raced through it, and she whimpered once before the surging energy drove away her wits once more. "You see?" Bralatar told her as the light in her eyes slowly died, "you are untouched. This is mercy,"
He chuckled coldly while Lorgyn arranged the apprentice's limbs apart as they had been earlier. The endless hum of the spell flames grew stable once more.
"The gate is unharmed," he said at last. The two Malaugrym exchanged a smile and went to the study, snaking out tentacles ahead of them to uncork the wine and bring out some roast shadowbeast.
"Profitable, that," Bralatar said, flopping down in an old armchair that until recently had been the exclusive preserve of Mortoth, and raising one of Mortoth's best glasses in salute to Lorgyn. "The wench certainly knows how to talk with a wand nearly down her gullet."
"More to the point, she's seen Faerun shrewdly, and knows what lies behind what can be readily seen," Lorgyn replied, sipping at his own glass.
"Ah," Bralatar said slyly, "do I hear the tones of a Shadowmaster looking for a mate?"
Lorgyn looked at him levelly. "No," he replied, "you do not. I merely meant that what she knows makes her too valuable for us to destroy. How else would we have found out all that about the Realms and the wizards in less than a day?"
Bralatar nodded, levity gone. "You speak truth… she yielded much to us, and swiftly. Enough for me to conclude we'd best avoid Thay, the islands Lantan and Nimbral, and the slave keepers-Calimshan, that was the name-until we know a lot more about Faerun. These Red Wizards'11 bear a lot of watching. They could be almost as much trouble as Elminster was. The Zhen-tarim, on the other hand, seem more persistent than competent. Would you say that sums up what she said?"
Lorgyn nodded. "I would… and so long as we keep these things in mind, and keep humans from realizing that there are shapeshifters among them, nothing and no one stands between us and our ruling any part of Faerun that we please. You'll take your preferred lands, and I'll take mine."
"I want to see those lands for myself first," Bralatar replied as they shared a grin. "And what better way than to have some real fun hunting this time, across half Faerun!"
"Chasing down wizards?"
"Chasing down and slaughtering," Bralatar said with a sudden flame in his eyes, "any humans we fancy."
All Shadows So Sharp
Only the eyes of the two guards moved to follow him as Lord Mourngrym of Shadowdale strode past the door of the forecourt, heading for the kitchens. He'd come straight in from a patrol in the northern reaches of the dale, and there was fresh blood-Zhent blood-on his mud-spattered armor. He was bareheaded and unshaven, and his reddened, sunken eyes told of little sleep and hard going.
"Belmer!" he called back, turning, as he went on. "Get something hot from the kitchens, and a bottle of zzar, and take it to the Old Skull as quick as you can. A lady guest is giving birth, and the father needs a good meal and a walk with someone who's been a father not long past-so the gods've chosen you!"
"Aye, Lord," Belmer said with a smile, and left his post just inside the front doors to rush down the hall. Guthtar, who'd heard the exchange, was already moving to take his place.
Mourngrym stuck his head through the kitchen door, dipped a flagon into the stew pot, brought it out dripping, put a towel underneath it, and turned back down the hall, armor rattling in his haste.
"That too, Lord?" Belmer asked, hesitating.
"No, this is my evenfeast," Mourngrym told him with a grin. "Sylune tells me the audience chamber is full of folk with troubles, so Til be eating on the throne again. Just tell the cooks to send someone to the