Cormyr_ a novel - Ed Greenwood [120]
Luthax was pacing now, back and forth, his favorite mannerism when speaking. "My companion Elmariel has returned from exploring the ruins of Netheril with an elder prize," the senior mage said triumphantly, "a bit of magic from the lost days when mages ruled the world. With this weapon, we can rid ourselves of those who would impede us."
Luthax's voice caught for a moment. Thanderahast ducked away, then froze. Had he been spotted at the window? No, the senior mage resumed his discourse, and when Thanderahast looked again, had taken up pacing again, too.
"We are truly the wise heads of Cormyr," Luthax proclaimed, and waited for the assenting murmurs of the crowd before continuing. "We can rule more wisely that any blood-tainted king or everlasting magess. We judge ourselves on merit and on real, tangible power. And we must be ready to move-and move quickly!-when the time comes to take the reins of power from old, enfeebled hands."
Thanderahast would have wanted to hear more of Luthax's schemes, but the cat against his chest began to squirm and howl, not the mewling cry of an imprisoned feline, but rather a deep-throated grumble that spoke of immediate threats. The cat's tiny claws pierced his cotton shirt and drove shallowly into the young mage's flesh.
Thanderahast stepped back from the window and pulled the cat away from his breast. Its fur was all on end, and its eyes were wide. It did not try to struggle against Thanderahast's grip, but instead spit and hissed at the autumn air.
No, not the autumn air, the young mage realized. Rather, the cat hissed at something hanging in the air. It appeared as little more than a ripple in the starlight, a slight flickering of the few windows still lit. It was wholly invisible save for its edges, which shone like a soap bubble to reveal its troll-like form and its teeth, which gleamed like clear icicles.
Thanderahast retreated two more steps along the ledge, cat at his bosom, mind racing through his memorized lore to identify the creature. This must be Elmariel's creature from Netheril. He'd been spotted after all, and this beast had been dispatched to take care of him.
The junior mage began an incantation of protection, but it was already too late. The beast swooped down upon him and gathered him up in invisible arms that coiled around him like serpents. Thanderahast choked back an involuntary shout, for those in the parlor would not come to his aid.
The invisible beast pulled Thanderahast off the ledge and suspended him over the street below. Thanderahast hung there as the night lights of Suzail swam all around him.
Then it threw him to the pavement from three floors up. The young mage clutched the cat and screamed.
He landed too soon to have fallen that far. It appeared to be a dimly lit hallway. He had not fallen more than three feet, and he had struck not rude cobbles but solid flagstones. The chill was gone, and the wind as well. He was inside a building, and a sharp pain was blossoming in one shoulder, where he had struck the flags. The cat had leapt out of his arms when he struck and was now calmly cleaning itself a few feet away.
He knew this place. He was not just in a building. He was inside the castle itself. Could the Netheril creature have thrown him that far? Or magically transported him there?
"You must get to the king," said the cat.
Thanderahast shook his head, certain that a speaking cat was the result of wits dazed in his fall, and looked at the cat. Its eyes were glowing a radiant green, and it spoke with Amedahast's voice.
"You must get to the king," it repeated, "before Luthax's beast does. He is in his quarters. I will take care of the conspirators." The glow faded from the small creature's eyes. It resumed grooming itself, oblivious to the spell that had surrounded it.
Thanderahast nodded and scooped the cat up, starting down the hallway. This part of the castle was strange to him, since he had never been in the royal wing. But all knew where the king's quarters were, the light from that room's