Cormyr_ a novel - Ed Greenwood [185]
She looked down at the gentle waters for what seemed like an eternity to Dauneth but was probably only a short time, enjoying the evening stars swimming in Lake Azoun. Then she turned and went on down the far slope of the bridge, heading for-Dauneth squinted, and finally climbed right up onto the stone book to see properly-Wyvernspur House!
Yes, she was glancing up and down the street, up at the sky, and then… she went inside. Dauneth clambered hastily down from his perch and almost fell as a calm voice from just below him said, "Yes, a lot of folk seem to find that inscription particularly interesting."
He stared down into the kindly eyes of an old bald priest, who nodded a grave greeting, and said, "Personally, I think the next one over is more profound, but then, the variance of opinions is born of the strife between the gods that gives us all life and striving. What do you think?"
Dauneth Marliir looked desperately from book to book, seeing that both of them sported-amid spots of bird droppings-long and carefully carved inscriptions, half seen in the moonlight. He didn't have time for this…
"I think," he said carefully, looking at the grass of the lawn outside the temple wall and glancing up that long sward, "that the future of the realm depends upon my acting now and thinking later!" And with that grand declaration, he hurled himself backward off the wall, hopefully out of reach of any spell that the priest might use against uninvited night intruders.
He landed running. He heard only a single faint, dry chuckle behind him as he hurried along from dock to garden seat to fence to the next dock, and so on, until he finally reached the rising stone wall, topped with large stone spheres, that joined the bridge parapet. He was gasping by then, but for Dauneth Marliir, there could be no rest until he uncovered one more secret allegiance. Just one more. His feet took him to the crest of the bridge in a rush, and then he slowed, noting that Wyvernspur House seemed to have no guards and to be darkest on the lake side. The imposing edifice of the Cormaerils across the street, however, seemed to bristle with watchful guards, several of whom were already staring his way. He gave them a casual wave of greeting, as if they were old friends he'd expected to see, and turned along the shore beside Wyvernspur House, as if he were strolling along a way he knew well.
As he'd hoped, a footpath wound along the water's edge. He slipped past a prowling cat, ignoring the brief snarl of greeting it made, and vaulted the low wall that marked the Wyvernspur boundaries, hoping he'd triggered no alarm spells or deadlier guardian magics.
He crouched tensely on a cobbled garden path amid gardens where water chuckled endlessly over stones somewhere nearby, moving only a few quick steps to be away from the place where he'd first intruded… but nothing happened. No guards or seeking spells came his way. After a long time, he relaxed. He was being overly fearful again. It seemed even nobles couldn't afford to cover every inch of their holdings with defensive magic.
Right, then. Dauneth Marliir took hold of his scabbarded sword to keep it from knocking against anything and glided forward. A window sat invitingly open, framed by garden flowers and occupied by an orange tabby on the sill. He eyed the dark room inside narrowly, looking for guardians. Surely it wasn't going to be this easy.
But it was. The cat on the sill stretched, yawned, thought for a moment, and then bounded away into the night gloom of the garden, leaving the sill unoccupied. Dauneth was up and over it in an instant, crouching on bare flagstones in the dimness beyond. This was some sort of plant room, leading into.. a servants' stair. Dark, narrow, and offering a high window with a ledge!
There seemed to be no cat