Cormyr_ a novel - Ed Greenwood [200]
"Agreed," said the king. "Cousin Thomdor, you will head up the Purple Dragon forces based here afterward, much as Bhereu controls the High Horn forces." Both cousins nodded.
"What of the nobles?" asked the wizard.
"What of them?" asked the king.
"The talk in the court lays the weakness in Arabel at the collective feet of the Marliirs," said the Royal Magician.
"All we know of Gondegal's preparations has come from the Marliirs," Thomdor said with a frown. "Old Jolithan Marliir risked a pair of daughters as messengers."
"The Marliirs are not to blame," said Azoun. "If anything, our own complacency brought us to this pass, wherein a charismatic impostor king can raise an army in a fortnight and seize a city in a season."
"True, but you know court politics," Vangerdahast replied. "Bleth, in particular, has reminded me of his contribution to this venture and of his great interest in seeing the Marliirs fail and a 'true' Cormyrean family have their seat in the city. Lord Bleth wants it badly."
"Lord Bleth will have to he disappointed, then," said the king. "My cousins are right. It would be unfair to punish the Marliirs after they risked so much for us. Besides, if I install a Bleth or anyone else who still thinks 'true Cormyreans' means born and raised in Suzail, I'll have another revolution on my hands before the decade is out. Anything else?"
There was nothing else, and the king retired to his personal tent while the two cousins peered at every detail of the white stone model, pointing and plotting. Vangerdahast left them to it and wandered to the southern edge of the camp, away from the city.
Here the posted guards were widely spaced and the shadows between the fires deeper and larger. Night held sway, however many swords were gathered under it. He waited, counting the stars in the southern sky.
After about ten minutes, a voice hissed from the darkness. "Black sword."
"Meets green shield," the wizard replied.
"To make red war," the darkness responded and broke away from the shadows to stand before the wizard. One of Vangerdahast's spies. Let the royal cousins depend on nobles for information. Any wizard worth his cantrips had his own methods and his own servants.
The spy was a young woman in dark cape and leathers. Nothing gleamed upon her save an oversized golden ring on one hand. Her dagger sheaths, one on each hip, were wrapped in dark leather. Her face was soft and cherubic. "My lord wizard," she said, "I bear news."
"Speak," said Vangerdahast.
"Gondegal is gone," she replied, almost chirping.
"Gone? How so?"
"Vanished, faded away, evaporated with the summer dew," the spy said happily.
"How comes this to you?" asked Vangerdahast.
"Through one of his captains," said the girl, "or rather, one of the sword captains he left behind. Gondegal, a half dozen of his closest aides, and the treasure he's pillaged for the past three months, all have suddenly gone missing from the Citadel. The surviving captains have their collective undergarments in the proverbial knot over this, but for all their hunting about the city, uproof and downcellar, there is no sign of their heroic master."
"And what are their plans in the absence of their leader?" asked Vangerdahast, smiling in the darkness.
"The mages who allied themselves with Gondegal have already left the city by their own powers. The remaining leadership is split, but the larger faction supports freeing the Marliirs to plead for mercy with the king on their behalf."
Vangerdahast patted his wide belly with both hands. "Return to the city, then, and pass this message on to the Marliirs: There will be a general amnesty, provided the gates are thrown open to the king at the first approach of his forces. Gondegal's men should be waiting, unarmored and unarmed, at the base of the Citadel. The king will pardon all who are there but hunt down the rest to their deaths. Can you get that message back?"
"Without a doubt," said the spy. "I go."
"In good fortune," the wizard murmured and watched her fade back into the darkness. His eyes never could