Cormyr_ a novel - Ed Greenwood [167]
Rhodes began to stammer that he'd found the king this way, but the wizard swept him aside with one arm and went to the bed. He touched the king at the neck, the breast, and the inside of the thigh. Then he cursed mildly and pulled a small book from his vest. He raised the book and muttered something in an alien tongue. Sparks of light danced around the pages and grew swiftly in brightness and number, to orbit the volume like the streaming stars in the skies over Faerun. The wizard laid the book on the king's forehead.
The sparks danced, flared once, and then died. Dhalmass continued to lie there, blue and stiff. The wizard leaned on the bed with both fists, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He cursed again, longer and louder this time.
"That's it, then," said the wizard. "He's well and truly dead. His mighty heart failed him, obviously in a moment of passion. Even the Book of Life could not bring him back this time."
He turned his head to look at the young noble. "Were you here when it happened?"
"Me?" asked Rhodes, then shook his head. "I've only just arrived. He was, uh, entertaining." The young Marliir pointed his chin at the open doorway. Beyond, the dusky-hued girl was watching everything with staring eyes.
"The only witness?" asked the wizard.
"There was another young lady," said Rhodes. "She left suddenly."
Jorunhast cursed again and looked hard at the noble. "And you were here with the girls?"
Rhodes straightened his shoulders and looked the wizard in the eye. "I am no panderer, mage. I am of the blood of House Marliir-one of the last, thanks to this man."
"So you came here, poisoned blade in your sheath, seeking revenge," said the wizard.
"I came seeking justice," said Rhodes. "I regret that I was too late to mete it out."
"Justice!" the old mage spat the word like a curse. "Is that what they call unthinking bloodlust these days?"
Rhodes Marliir's eyes narrowed. "And how did you know where to find him?"
Jorunhast held up a hand. "I came bearing sad news. Her Highness Queen Jhalass has perished, apparently in an allergic reaction to some fish served at dinner. Like Dhalmass, no amount of herbcraft or priests' magic could save her. Both of the rulers of Cormyr have perished within hours of each other. I fear for your city, Marliir."
The news amazed Rhodes. It was as if the gods themselves were saying, in their unsubtle way, that conquering Marsember was not the wisest of moves for the Cormyrean crown. He forgot that Jorunhast had not exactly answered his question.
Then the mage's last comment registered, and Rhodes asked sharply, "You fear for my city, mage?"
"Aye," said the Royal Magician, his face a mask of concern. "Once word gets out that both king and queen died in Marsember, regardless of how, there will be a gnashing of teeth and a seeking of revenge. Or, as you would call it, 'justice.' Seven companies of Purple Dragons walk-and drink deeply-in this city right now. Tell them their king, their warrior king, is dead, and his queen alongside him. Can you imagine the carnage and rioting that will ensue?"
For the first time, Rhodes really thought about it. "They'll destroy the city," he said quietly, seeing in his mind islands that were only ashes, houses put to the torch, the bridges broken, the vultures swooping down…
"Marsember would be abandoned once more," the Royal Magician intoned, "and its abandonment would not be peaceful. It is well that you had no hand in his death, for revenge would be swift and hard, and no mage or warrior or pirate could shield you."
He looked down at the spread-eagled corpse on the bed again and sighed. "Even now, I fear Marsember will be devastated by these deaths. And some of the same