Cormyr_ a novel - Ed Greenwood [125]
His colleague was chuckling smugly. Kurthryn stilled that sound and left him gaping with his softspoken words. "I've been told that certain senior priests in this city, with the aid of a powerful archmage whose identity they are keeping secret, have discovered the cause. The poison that killed Bhereu and bids fair to kill both Thomdor and the king is a liquid-borne toxin that works through the bloodstream inside a man. The reason spells have failed to neutralize this poison is that it generates its own dead-magic zone." He moved his knight.
Huldyl whistled low. The dead-magic zones, proof from any spellcasting, were a legacy of the Time of Troubles, when the gods walked Faerun. "So can they foil it now?" Huldyl asked, wild-eyed, leaning forward over the board in his excitement.
Kurthryn shrugged. "They're working on it."
The junior wizard sat back, rubbing his chin. "Who could have crafted it? A Red Wizard of Thay, perhaps, or another powerful lich or archmage? But who did it? Almost absently he moved one of his pieces.
"Who's trying to become ruler of Cormyr?" Kurthryn responded grimly.
Huldyl threw up his hands, barking out a short, mirthless laugh. "Every third noble between here and Arabel, that's who! There's no shortage of those who might want to." He rubbed his chin again and added thoughtfully, "And when subterfuge, plotting, and poison are the means, those who might not have spells nor swords strong enough to take the throne might have their chances."
"You mean this man who's wooing Tanalasta might really be after the crown?" Kurthryn shook his head in disbelief. "If it's him in truth, why does Bleth not marry her first and make his claim clear before starting all the bloodshed?"
"It could be someone else," Huldyl said, with another shrug. "I mean only that soft words and velvet handshakes have won as many thrones as the rising and falling of blood-drenched blades."
Kurthryn waggled his eyebrows. "Been reading too much Tethyrian poetry, have we?" He moved his knight again.
Huldyl snarled in mock rage. "Aye, the same place you were reading books on how to play chess!" His death priest slid delicately across the board to slay Kurthryn's advancing knight. "So much for sneak attacks, 'good my lord,'" the junior wizard added.
With a weary sigh, Kurthryn moved one of his bishops. If this game bore any relation to reality, Cormyr had not long to last. "So what do you think of this young Bleth?"
Huldyl shrugged again. "It's the princess who has to kiss him, not I. You know how I feel about sneering, lazy, idiot nobles. Granted he's been crisply and ably delivering what few orders Tanalasta has deigned to decree thus far, but who's to say how much of those orders are his intentions or embellishments? She never steps out of her chamber of sorrows to check!"
"Sounds like the Obarskyrs need a bit of steel in the old bloodline," Kurthryn murmured.
"Hah! The line forms down the hall to marry the crown princess and father a long line of strapping sons," Huldyl said sarcastically. "Shall I save you a place?"
"Nay. I fear, 'good my lord,' that I lack what is most needed," Kurthryn replied, mimicking the tones of a cultured court official.
"Stamina?"
"Deafness," Kurthryn replied flatly. "Have you heard Tanalasta when she's in one of her moods? Such as when she is going over the account books, and finds a three-silver-piece error? Or hounding down some delinquent creditor or slipshod contractor? Nothing's worth years and years of that! Not Cormyr, not fabled Myth Drannor at its proverbial height, not gold-buried Waterdeep right now!"
Huldyl chuckled and moved his much-traveled death priest back to a safer spot. "So what's the latest out in the city?"
Kurthryn's senior rank brought more reports to his ears than Huldyl ever heard, and he shared the