Crown of Fire - Ed Greenwood [107]
Shandril looked at her in disbelief. "Here?"
"I'm not expecting you to prefer it to freely roaming Faerun," Tessaril replied, "I'm suggesting it as the best refuge I know,"
"Umm," Shandril said, resting her chin on her glass and staring at the opposite wall, The painting on it obligingly flickered and changed shape, Tessaril held out the bottle to refill Shandril's glass. "Narm and Mirt both seem all right," she said,
"The priests of Lathander are in awe of you, by the way, over what you did to Narm. Storm's gone back to Shadowdale, we've not seen the Old Mage again, and we've not seen or heard anything more from the Zhentarim. I've spoken with Vangerdahast-without revealing that any of you were still here-and he's of the opinion that you fought something called a lich lord, more powerful at sorcery than most archmages living today, He's mightily impressed with you, too."
Shandril smiled wearily. "So's everyone else I meet but then they usually try to kill me."She was suddenly very tired, and felt something moving through her fingers. She looked down-in time to see the glass fall from her hand, Shandril watched it shatter nn the floor, stared at the bouncing fragments dully, and then raised slow and angry eyes to look at Tessaril. Flames leapt in them as she said bitterly, "You put something in the wine. I trusted you, too,"
"I hope you'll go on trusting me, Shan," Tessaril said sadly as she got up and put her arms around Shandril. "Now you need to sleep-or you'll soon kill yourself, You've been hurling spellfire without rest or food or water. Each time you call on it, it's eating you inside to get its energy, Rest now-, you're safe here."
The last thing Shandril felt was a gentle kiss on her cheek, She fell asleep wearing a curious expression, To Tessaril, it looked as if she was trying to frown, but smiling in relief.
"Well?" Fzoul slowly turned from the papers he'd been studying and raised cold eyes to fit Sarhthor with a challenging gaze.
The sorcerer looked back at him expressionlessly. "He failed, Through our spell-link, I felt him die."
Fzoul studied the wizard's stony face. "You're no more surprised than I am."
Sarhthor shrugged, "He was an overconfident, arrogant fool, One more we're better off without."
"You don't approve of cruelty or pride?" Fzoul asked flatly.
The sorcerer seemed almost to smile, "I see no reason to laud villainy just because the Brotherhood uses might and pays no heed to the moral judgments of others. If I have a flaw, it should be something I work against to make me better in the service of the Brotherhood-not something I take pride in and show to all as a weakness of the Brotherhood, ready to be taken advantage of,"
Fzoul nodded. "Wisely said." He paused, toying with the tiny skull carved from Iliph Thraun's thighbone. The high priest leaned forward, "Tell me, Sarhthor-what are your own thoughts on this matter of spellfire?"
Sarhthor shrugged. "A formidable weapon, something of almost irresistible power-but not something to tear apart the Brotherhood over,"
Fzoul leaned back. "Oh? Tell me, then, what-in your view-are the more important matters facing the Brotherhood now."
Sarhthor nodded, He went to the row of chairs along one side of the room and picked one up, Though it was large and heavy, the slightly built wizard lifted it as if h were made of paper.
Fzoul's eyes narrowed, Sarhthor met the high priest's gaze mildly, carried the chair to the table, and without invitation, sat down opposite Fzoul.
"First," the wizard said calmly, "we must foil Thay's growing influence in Calaunt and Westgate."
"First?" Fzoul's voice was silky,
Sarhthor looked at him expressionlessly and said, "You told me to state my view, If you'd prefer to fence, Fzoul, I can oblige,"
Fzoul held his gaze for a long, chilly time, then silently waved him to continue.
Sarhthor inclined his head and went on, "Then there's