Cormyr_ a novel - Ed Greenwood [186]
A man and a woman, in the next room, talking with easy familiarity. He knew the female voice: Lady Bluemask. Dauneth became an intently listening statue.
"Cat, the nobles can't all be base, blackhearted villains. I'm a noble! You're a noble, too!"
Lady Bluemask-What had he called her? Cat?-sighed. "Giogi, my own, it doesn't take all of the nobles to hack our country down into war. Almost all of them with any influence, or more money than fear, are up to something right now. Who knows how many quiet little deals are being hatched over wine around this city right this minute?"
"None that I know of," came the reply. Giogi-Giogi Wyvernspur, of course, the adventurer! One of the country-squire nobles. His voice continued. "And there may be none at all!"
"Say you're right," Cat replied, "and there are none at all. That still leaves the two factions we do know of without any chance of mistaking what they're up to. Agreed?"
Giogi sighed, and Dauneth heard liquid splashing into a glass. "Agreed," he said. "Anything new with those?"
"Well," Cat said as glasses clinked together, "the only news out of the palace today is that five nobles grew so impatient that they tried to murder the crown princess this morning, cutting her down at prayer." Dauneth stiffened and almost cried out in astonishment before Cat's next words dumbfounded him. "She slaughtered them all."
"Tanalasta?" Giogi's voice was a cry of disbelief. Dauneth echoed it silently.
"A Harper and a friend of hers, plus the priestess at the altar, did the killing, I believe. Gwennath spoke to me after all the Purple Dragons had finished huffing and snorting and looking grim all over the place."
"So, which nobles?"
"Young blades, all of them-Ensrin Emmarask, a Dauntinghorn, a Creth, an Illance, and Red Belorgan."
"Him-huh! Any chance to kill anything, he'd be in on it," Giogi said disgustedly.
"They were all carrying huge rubies," Cat added.
"No! Not the Secret Society of Men Who Carry Huge Rubies!" her mate protested with mock incredulity. "Say it isn't so!"
"Dolt," said Cat affectionately. "Rubies or no, they're dead. That leaves us with all the usual villains."
"Aunadar Bleth and Gaspar Cormaeril and their nobles' council. An idea silently supported by at least some members in all the oldest, largest houses and feared by the minor nobles, who know they'll be left out of all decisions… and profits."
"Exactly. Everyone from the Huntcrowns to the Yellanders wants the council. Even the Illances have set aside their old feud with the Cormaerils to be in on this and upstart houses such as the Flintfeathers are pushing the council as their way of gaining respect among the 'heavy houses.' They all-even the three socalled royal houses-see it as a way out from under the tyranny of the Obarskyrs."
"Into the tyranny of their rivals and neighbors," said Giogi, "a tyranny that will undoubtedly soon spill over into open violence when various stiff-necked families seek to get even with each other over 'you voted against me' grudges."
"Five months?" Cat asked, considering.
"Nearer three." Giogi nursed a thumb under his chin. "And that's assuming that the big houses, who stand to lose everything they've gained if the country is plunged into war, try to keep tight reins on things. If just two of the large old houses get annoyed at the same time and don't work hard at keeping the peace, we could have massacres and then raids and then full-scale battles in a month."
"That's right, lift my spirits! Even the young lion I recruited to help me get to the vaults seems to be going sour," Cat said bitterly. In the darkness, Dauneth's lips twisted wryly. "Tell me who stands on the side of the wise old regent."
"Well, there're the Wyvernspurs!" said Giogi brightly.
"And?"
"Well, there're the Wyvernspurs,"