Cormyr_ a novel - Ed Greenwood [127]
"Ah," Huldyl said, leaning forward, "but which of those outsiders wants their prize of Cormyr damaged or ruined by strife? None of them. Who can't see any way to what they want but strife? Someone who dwells here and has a place in society he knows he can't be budged from. And who would benefit most from Azoun's death and chaos in Cormyr?"
"Well," Kurthryn responded, "who? You tell me! Alusair doesn't really want the crown. She's happiest playing lady adventurer across half Faerun, at her own whim. Apparently Tanalasta doesn't want it either. This Bleth would probably be happy as prince consort, but he dare not move quickly to take real power or half the nobles in the realm'll set him straight-and have him murdered if he ignores their rebukes. All of the nobles would probably like to strengthen their influence, wealth, and holdings, but no one noble house will be allowed to rise above the rest once the Obarskyrs are gone. They all regularly backstab each other, and they have no central leader. Their distrust of each other is so strong that they could never have one!"
"Go on, master plotter," Huldyl said eagerly, waving at his friend to continue.
Kurthryn took a deep breath and added, "The military is loyal, by and large, to whoever sits on the Dragon Throne. The people always suspect us war wizards of treachery against the crown, but surely if there was some plot within our ranks, we'd have heard of it or smelled something. Besides, Vangerdahast keeps us on a short leash."
"It all comes back to Vangerdahast, doesn't it?" Huldyl said grimly.
They nodded to each other, both facing the same unpleasant possibility. The Lord High Wizard was powerful enough, perhaps, to create the deadly poison. One war wizard who'd confronted the old mage about his planned regency had disappeared. Vangerdahast was spending a lot of time trotting around, whispering with nobles, but he had said nothing, beyond a few curt orders, to his own war wizards. Moreover, he was usually a master at spreading rumors and swaying the people-yet this time he'd done nothing in that line, even with the folk of Suzail blaming the royal plight on any wizard who was handy. What was the old vulture's game?
"Well," Kurthryn said heavily, "at least we know at last what has laid the royals low. If I know old Thunderspells-and he is as loyal as I believe him to be-we'll probably have a cure for it in days."
"Too late for Bhereu."
"Too late for him, but we could even lose Baron Thomdor and survive. So long as the king does not die, Cormyr will see itself through this crisis as it has through so many others. Even a king lying abed for years will save us from civil war… I hope."
"You have more hope in you than I do," Huldyl said gloomily. "And-"
Whatever else he may have said was lost forever as a lone figure in blue and silver, stumbling a little, came forlornly up the hall toward them. It was the priestess of Tymora, Gwennath, coming from the direction of the royal quarters. She was as white as Kurthryn's chess pieces.
The war wizards exchanged a look, and Kurthryn put out a gentle hand. "Lady? Is there aught we can do for you?"
"Pray," the priestess said in a trembling voice. "Pray for me… and for him… and for the realm. I have failed. Baron Thomdor is dead."
She shook off his comforting hand, burst into tears, and strode away, sobbing out a prayer to Tymora.
The two wizards looked at each other again. "Check," Huldyl said bitterly, moving his bat-mounted mage to threaten Kurthryn's king.
Slowly Kurthryn reached out and tipped Galaghard over to signify his surrender. "We'd better go see," he said wearily, and they got up in a swirl of robes and strode down the hall. Although they hurried, there was really no need to hurry now.
When they were gone, the moonstone queen that had felt odd to Kurthryn's fingers earlier pulsed, shifted its position slightly, and then slowly flowed, like syrup, down over the edge of the board to the floor, where it rose, growing with terrifying