Cormyr_ a novel - Ed Greenwood [152]
Dauneth looked up at Rhauligan. "Here! Read!" He thrust the parchment across the table. The merchant read it, let his brows rise for a moment and then fall again, rolled it up carefully, replaced its ribbon, then handed it back. "Well, now, that's handy, lad… 'twon't be all that long now till they light 'em."
The young noble sputtered. "Yes, but-but Emthrara gave me this! How did she know I'd be here? And now?" His eyes narrowed. "You told her!"
"By the gods, lad," the merchant protested, "you're beginning to see conspiracies behind every pillar in Suzail! Drink up and think awhile, things always go better when your thoughts go ahead of your tongue… if you take my meaning."
Dauneth frowned. "But who does she work for? Is this truly from Princess Alusair?"
The merchant poured himself more wine. "Lad, living high is the art of finding out answers to questions like that without ever asking anyone else… d'you see?"
Dauneth sighed. "That's right," he said, picking up his own glass, "go all wise and graybearded on me."
The merchant shrugged. "You had to have a woman show you how to get into the palace. I know of more than a dozen secret ways into that place, and I'm no war wizard nor courtier, O young wet-nosed conspiracy sniffer!"
Dauneth glared at Rhauligan for a moment, then slowly grinned. "All right, sir merchant. Your sword finds the gap." He sipped firedrake wine and then frowned again. "More than a dozen?"
Whatever answer the merchant might have made was lost forever in the sudden appearance of the waitress, who leaned over their table-making Dauneth swallow, and try not to stare-to light the candles that were descending on fine chain from the ceiling. She shook her taper to extinguish it and turned to smile at the young nobleman.
Just for an instant, an azure mask seemed to cover her apple-cheeked features, and she said, in a voice not her own, "The corner back booth at Urgan's Best Boots, as soon as you can get there." Then her face seemed to waver and was bare again, and she gave Dauneth a wink and glided away.
Dauneth blinked. "Did you hear?"
"Spellcraft for sure," the merchant said, draining his glass and pointing at Dauneth's own. "You'll be needing a guide there. Come on!"
* * * * *
Evening was when most shops in Suzail rolled down their shutters, set their door bars, and blew out their lamps, but down this short and apparently nameless side street, Urgan's Best Boots still showed a light over its door. Rhauligan clapped Dauneth on the shoulder and said, "I'm off, lad. Try not to get into too much trouble."
Dauneth nodded, replied, "You, too!" and, taking a deep breath, put one hand on his sword hilt and the other on the door handle.
He cast a last look around before entering. Rhauligan had already vanished, as if swallowed up by magic. The street was deserted. The young noble frowned, shrugged, and went in.
Urgan seemed to have vanished, too. The shop was lit but deserted. Dauneth looked around suspiciously, spotted the curtained changing booths, and headed for them, almost trembling with excitement.
He parted the curtain of the corner booth cautiously, using the hilt of his scabbarded sword. Inside stood a woman in a blue gown, her back to him. One of her legs was planted on a stool, and she seemed to be in the process of disrobing.
"Ah, I'm sorry," Dauneth muttered. The woman turned her head as swiftly as a striking snake. Emerald eyes gleamed out at him, her other features obscured by an azure mask.
"What for? Your swiftness is commendable," was the calm reply as the woman turned to face him and let fall her gown, to reveal breeches and a tunic of the same sea-blue hue. "If you are Dauneth Marliir, I am very interested in working with you."
"I-have