Cloak of Shadows - Ed Greenwood [10]
Another slice rose from Elminster's plate to near the Simbul's mouth just as she finished the first, and Storm knew from the wizard's surprised expression that Sylune was at work, unseen but sharing the kitchen with them all. Dead she might be, but the Silent Sister had gone right on helping and caring for others.
"Well?" Storm prompted Elminster gently, leaning forward with her chin on her cupped hands.
"I look upon it as a Harper training exercise," the Old Mage told her airily, waving a dripping slice of buttered bread. He didn't notice when Sylune's ghostly hands tore it away to take to the Simbul, leaving him with just a crust.
"Explaining away dead bodies?" Storm asked, amused.
"Yes, I suppose-" She broke off with a snort of mirth as Elminster brought his slice down to take a bite, found he had possession of only a crust, and regarded it with deep suspicion.
"The problem with Faerun these days," he said heavily, "is that ye can't trust anything to be as it should be, or once was. Anything at all." He glared at the offending crust darkly. Storm bit down on a knuckle to keep from laughing aloud at his baffled expression.
And then he winked and dropped the pretense and the clowning together, leaning forward to fix her with a disconcertingly level gaze. "I suspect that the Malaugrym spy on us all, often, watching for any chance to seize influence in Faerun with little risk, and rushing in whenever events fall right for them."
The Simbul nodded. "I know they do," she said between bites, butter running down her chin. "Last summer, thinking to thin the ranks of the ambitious apprentice magelings of Thay, I set two slaying snake spells to seek out anyone who spied on a-well, on an attractive-looking trap I set up, that concealed nothing. Both of the spells struck within a day. When I followed them up, I found two headless bodies sprawled half in one shape and half out of another. Malaugrym, without a doubt."
There were grim nods, confirming similar experiences. Elminster pushed his plate aside and continued, "The point is, they're no doubt aware of the increasing chaos of Art in Faerun, of Mystra's waning powers, of Saharel's final death, and of my own weakness. They must see this as a shining opportunity-perhaps the best they'll ever see-to rid themselves forever of their most annoying foe. Me."
The Simbul wiped her chin and said firmly, "It's just as gleaming a chance for me-for us-to destroy Malaugrym. If they're coming to Faerun to destroy you-so long, mind, as you have the wits to stay here and not go running off to their shadow realm after every lure they set you-then they must come within my reach." She strode across the room to seize the back of a chair, and added softly, "And I'll destroy them."
Her slim hands whitened around the chair, trembled slightly, and abruptly the wood shattered, leaving her holding splinters. She stared down at the ruined chair. "Sorry," she muttered, stepping back.
Storm waved the apology and the damage away with the same gesture. "Are you sure it's the wisest course, battling Malaugrym across lands beset with growing chaos and lawlessness, what with magic fading and failing you?" she asked gravely, turning to eye both arch-mages.
"I'm tired of their attacks," the Simbul replied, forestalling Elminster's speech with a swiftly raised hand, "One of them just might succeed, robbing me of my beloved and Shadowdale-nay, all the Realms-of the best protector available. Moreover, Sister, I can't effectively fight Red Wizards if I must flee the fray often and abruptly to rush back across half Faerun to battle Malaugrym. Who'll defend Aglarond when I'm not there? And how can I finish any foe if I rend his best defenses but must turn away, perforce giving him time to flee or replace his ravished Art?"
She looked at the twisted and shattered chair, and said with sudden cold force, "Destroy them, I say. Once and for all."