Cormyr_ a novel - Ed Greenwood [139]
Gaspar smiled once more. "Then you will probably not be overly distressed to learn that both will die mysteriously tonight. I shall take no part in it, you may observe my revels, if you wish, at the newly opened Cormaeril Club dining hall. Await the news… and come morning, you'll see how effectively Gaspar Cormaeril can rule the House of Cormaeril."
Vangerdahast raised an eyebrow. "I'd not be upset to hear of such… unfortunate demises, yet I'd be concerned for any noble in Cormyr who might begin to fall too much in love with boldness, and so start off on the trail that leads, sooner or later, to overstepping oneself. Too many nobles dying would be suspicious, my friend."
Gaspar shrugged. "Whereas overmuch caution, as practiced by the incumbent heads of all our noble houses, leads to bitter, building resentment and unrest and the slow decline of the realm into the chaos we face today."
The man was as cool as the depths of an icy cave. The Royal Magician raised one last warning. "Whenever kin die violently, there arises the dreadful prospect that one could awaken to find his family torn apart in clan strife, as has indeed happened before to those who have forced their fellows to choose between blood and country."
Gaspar set down his empty glass gently and came to stand over the Lord High Wizard for the first time. He looked down.
"Far worse fates can befall a kingdom," the young Cormaeril said softly and menacingly, "when its senior families have long reaches, deep pockets, and surprising allies."
And with those grand words, Gaspar turned on his heel and strode away, gesturing to his hired wizards. The two Calishites rose and faced Vangerdahast with leveled wands, while the Nimbran hastily sheathed the two he held and brought down the shielding spells.
The Calishites looked at Vangerdahast with open contempt. "This realm of Cormyr must be barbaric indeed if one fat old man with such paltry magic can be its titled high mage," one remarked loudly. The other chuckled.
Their chuckles died abruptly, an instant later, when Vangerdahast stood up and made a rather rude gesture and the two mages suddenly found themselves surrounded by a ring of over thirty identical Vangerdahasts, all of whom licked their fingers, made another leisurely impolite movement, and then waved a cheerful farewell before fading away.
* * * * *
Vangerdahast faded back into solidity elsewhere-the Tower of the Balconies at the front of the royal court, to be precise-just in time to look out of its windows and down into the courtyard to see Gaspar Cormaeril saunter out of the Dragon Door and stop to talk with Aunadar Bleth.
The two greeted each other as old friends and chatted casually. The young Bleth reached into his pocket and pressed something into Cormaeril's hand. From a distance, it appeared to be a large crystal, the color of sunset, or perhaps a small decanter or large piece of jewelry. Long reaches, deep pockets, and surprising allies, thought the wizard.
"Long reaches, deep pockets, and surprising allies," Vangerdahast said quietly to the unhearing figure below, "and far worse fates indeed."
Chapter 22: The Last Dragon
The Year of the Dracorage
(1018 DR)
"I hate this," pouted Crown Prince Azoun, the second of the royal line to bear that name. "We're sitting here like coneys waiting for the hunter."
"Your objection is noted," the young mage Jorunhast said icily, "and duly ignored."
"You don't want to be here either," said the crown prince.
"You are correct," the wizard replied, his voice verging on a snarl. "But I have to be here to protect you."
The wizard had no love for this crown prince, and deep in his heart, he hoped that Thanderahast would hang onto life long enough that Jorunhast could be the court wizard of the next King of Cormyr after Azoun. But not this one. Any king but this one. To swear fealty