Cormyr_ a novel - Ed Greenwood [24]
Vangerdahast heard the heavy outer door of the princess's chambers close behind him-and, ominously, the sound of a lock being thrown. The wizard raised his head as if to take in badly needed fresh air, letting his gaze stray up at the hallway's ceiling. Warriors, witch lords, elves, and dragons battled in the yellowing plaster. Their eternal struggle ran all along the ceiling of the hall, in silent contrast to the tumult stirred up by this day's disaster.
Vangerdahast lowered his gaze to see a figure running along the carpets toward him, a figure dressed in sapphire-hued robes. He gave her a raised hand of greeting and asked, "What are you called, lady priestess?"
She blinked at him, and then said, "Gwennath of Tymora, lord wizard, sometimes called the Bishop of the Black Blades Adventurers." And then, without pause-a swiftness which Vangerdahast admired greatly-she plunged into what she had been going to say to him. "The convulsions have stopped for both men, and their breathing is weak but steady. Neither has roused, and both are extremely pale. They are hot to the touch, but cold compresses seem to moderate this condition somewhat. Loremaster Khelbor argued against leeching, but the sages are taking just a bit of blood for their own divinations." She paused for breath, brushing a stray hair out her face with an impatient thumb.
The wizard nodded approvingly. "Any idea yet as to the cause?"
Gwennath shook her head. "None. They're bringing the clockwork thing into Belnshor's Chamber, next to the Satharw-but you know where that is. I'm sorry, lord… I assume you'll want to look at it. Its very presence at the fray suggests poison, but whatever afflicts the king and his cousin continues to resist every purgative, curative, and medication we can call to mind." Her confused frown deepened. "And, lord…?"
"Yes, blessed lady?"
"I tried that incantation to raise the dead on his lordship the duke. It didn't work."
"Given everything else, I'm not surprised," Vangerdahast told her, the barest hint of bitter weariness in his voice.
"It's not supposed to happen like this," she added, shaking her head in exasperation.
"Just what is supposed to happen when a royal duke dies and your king's life is endangered?" asked the Royal Magician in the mildest of tones, raising his eyebrows slightly.
"I'm sorry, lord wizard," stammered the young priestess. "I was thinking aloud and meant no disrespect. It's just that… when one of the royals falls ill, cost means naught, and no power need be spared. There are a score or more things one can do to give aid. We've tried them all… with no result. There's more spell power in that banquet hall than anywhere else shy of Waterdeep and, I suppose, Shadowdale-and we cannot get either man even awake!"
"And frustration eats at us all," the wizard murmured, eyes no longer seeing the earnest young priestess before him but looking instead at the distant room where priests and sages were fighting for the king's life.
"Yes," Gwennath sighed, then pursed her lips. "Lord wizard?"
"Yes?"
"Should King Azoun… I mean, if we can't bring them back… what happens then?"
"Indeed," Vangerdahast echoed softly, looking at the closed door of Tanalasta's chambers. "What happens then?"
Chapter 4: The Raid
Year of Leather Shields
(-75 DR)
Alea Dahast crept along the edge of the clearing, the dappled green and burnt orange hues of her hunting cape making her almost invisible in the long shadows of the Cormanthor sunset. All around her moved companions who were just as well concealed. The only sounds of their passing were occasional wolf whines in the brambles, each followed by a soft shushing