Cormyr_ a novel - Ed Greenwood [148]
Lareth Gulur did not need his battlefield memories to know that Ensibal Threen's life was hanging by the most slender of threads. He sheathed his dagger and waved at people to keep clear, in case violent magic was triggered by the wizard's death.
"Gulur? Gulur! For the throne's sake, man, what happened here?" The shocked and angry voice behind him belonged to Hathlan, a senior officer of the Purple Dragons.
"Get a priest. A noble knifed this wizard because he supported our Lord High Wizard, or at least the young fool thought he did. I knocked out the noble, and he might have his wits scrambled a trifle, but he'll live," Lareth replied without turning. His eyes were on the gathering crowd, looking for nobles-or anyone else-trying to slip away.
"All of them have their wits scrambled a trifle," Hathlan snorted. "There've been attacks like this all across the realm these last few days. The nobles are seizing their opportunities and settling scores, real and imagined." Then he was off, bellowing for a healer.
Lareth looked at his superior, then at the fallen war wizard. "Cormyr is balanced on a sword edge," he murmured, "with years of red war waiting on either hand should we fall."
* * * * *
"Have you heard the news? Some noble just slaughtered a war wizard right out on the street!" The speaker, a new arrival to the Snout Room, was breathless with excitement, but not so breathless that he couldn't gasp out news this good.
"It's beginning, then," Rhauligan muttered. He looked as if one of the high-quality turrets he sold had crashed to the ground.
Dauneth Marliir, the young Arabellan noble, was gaping at the new arrival as the man bustled on down the Snout Room, bawling his news. The man's words had distracted the young nobleman from the warm knee and rather revealing charms of the tavern dancer who sat drinking with them. She was an old friend of Rhauligan's, the merchant had said heartily, but was lavishing her affections on Dauneth.
The dancer, Emthrara, kissed Dauneth on the cheek, seeking to restore his attentions. Dauneth blushed and hoped the hunger he felt for the young woman wasn't showing too much. He swallowed. What was he doing, thinking about women when Cormyr was crumbling into war outside?
"They're saying up at the palace that Princess Alusair fled deeper into the Stonelands," Emthrara said in a low, husky voice. Dauneth felt smooth skin shift against his arm and swallowed hard a second time.
The turret merchant made a small chuckle. Rhauligan knew exactly what was going through Dauneth's mind about the dancer and did not hide his amusement. Dauneth tried not to look at the merchant's knowing smile across the table as Emthara said quietly, "I've heard more talk of Vangerdahast's possible treachery too."
But surprise had seized hold of Dauneth. He turned his head to look at Emthrara and discovered that his lips were mere inches away from hers. He could feel the soft touch of her breath on his face. He swallowed again, grimacing. Stop it, Dauneth. This is too important!
"You were inside the palace?" he asked, his voice louder than he'd intended. Emthrara gave him a smile and a nod. Dauneth tried not to feel the soft brush of her honey-blonde hair on his cheek.
"I'm often up at the palace, Dauneth," she said, her voice deep and musical with soft mystery. "I-have work there."
"Oh," Dauneth said, and then realized what she meant. "Oh!" he hoped he wasn't blushing too furiously and thanked all the gods that neither Rhauligan nor the dancer laughed at him then. He struggled to think about what seemed more and more important and found himself asking, almost calmly, "Can you get me into the palace-unseen?"
"Why?" Rhauligan leaned forward across the table to ask that very direct question almost in a whisper. Dauneth was startled by the sudden proximity of those bristling eyebrows and lined forehead