Cormyr_ a novel - Ed Greenwood [122]
"Your Majesty," interrupted Amedahast, and the young mage nearly jumped. Even the king gasped and took a startled pace back.
No, his teacher was not in the room, but her magical image was. She hovered, ghostlike, in the bed-chamber air. Her hair was a silver rain, wild and free down her back. She had a staff at her side, but did not need it for support.
The illusion of the High Magess spoke again. "I have sent my successor, the young mage, Thanderahast, to you to prevent a magical assassination attempt. If you are hearing this, he has been successful. I would have come myself, but I will be dealing with the conspirators who sent this evil creature to you. They are powerful mages, and if I do not return, know that the young mage has my complete confidence."
Then the image faded. Thanderahast swallowed, he'd never seen her so grim, her face drawn so tight. She could defeat Luthax, of course, but rank upon rank of treacherous war wizards?
Then he remembered the staff, and her words: "The day I need a staff…"
Outside the window there was a bright flash: the magical detonation of a lifetime of spells ignited in a single moment. Its brilliance overpowered the fire in the room, and for a long moment, Draxius and the mage were etched in sharp, white relief. Then the sound came, a huge, rolling boom that shook the very stones of the castle.
By the time Draxius reached the window, a column of flames was rising from the lower city. He turned to Thanderahast. "Wait outside. I'll get dressed and join you. Two minutes."
The young mage nodded and headed for the door. He knew what had happened there, and what they would find. The top of the townhouse would be blown out by a single blast, created by a powerful magess breaking a powerful staff over her knee to release the energies within. The bodies of all the others would be sprawled around the room, the torn tatters of their shattered magic drifting around them. The message would be clear to any conspirators fortunate enough not to be in the room at the time: The price of treason was death, and no sacrifice would be judged too difficult to bring about that payment.
The sleeping guard had slid entirely down the wall. Thanderahast let him lie in peace, and in the promised two minutes, Draxius emerged, dressed in a fine shirt and simple leggings. He had his crown on now and his scabbard belted to his side. "Come on, lad," he said. "We may have to call out the war wizards on this one."
"No," Thanderahast replied and met the king's eyes squarely, feeling the weight of his new responsibility settling onto his shoulders. If he were as loyal and true as the High Magess had been, only his death would lift that burden. "The war wizards," he said firmly, "or at least the brotherhood's leaders, were the conspirators. I heard that myself."
Draxius looked long and hard at the wizard, then nodded. "Then we'll manage on our own as we always have. And, lad," he added, placing a friendly hand on the young man's shoulder, "I know you'll think long and hard about what happened here and tell your stories about it accordingly."
Then the king kicked the guard awake and bellowed that an armed, full-strength party should be readied to investigate the explosion immediately. The groggy Purple Dragon hurried off, and the king strode along in his wake, bellowing orders to the bleary-eyed staff as he passed.
"Think long and hard?" repeated Thanderahast. Did the king not want it known he could handle a sword, or that there existed invisible creatures of ancient magic or that the war wizards themselves had betrayed the throne?
Then he thought of the flash of blonde hair and pink flesh in the king's bed and realized what Draxius meant. The queen had red hair and was as tan as a polished duskwood tabletop.
Thanderahast smiled slightly and went off after his liege, following the sound of shouted orders.
Chapter 19: Chess
Year of the Gauntlet
(1369 DR)
Two men sat in an antechamber of the palace. Ostensibly they were off duty, enjoying a quiet game of chess in the