Crown of Fire - Ed Greenwood [110]
Shandril watched the black-robed man, "Where is he?" she asked softly,
"Someplace that surprises me a little," Tessaril replied, "He's not in Zhentil Keep at all-but instead in the Citadel of the Raven, well to the north. It's a huge fortress that the Zhents took over by trickery years ago. The room you're looking at is one I usually see when spying on Manshoon. It's in Wizards'
Watch Tower," She smiled. "Some folk of the citadel call it the Old Fools' Tower."
"He's taking over Manshoon's items and places of power," Shandril said slowly, "now that I've destroyed Manshoon."
Tessaril looked sidelong at her and murmured, "Be not so sure Manshoon's gone, Shan. Others have been sure they destroyed him before,"
Shandril turned, "Then where is he?" Tessaril shrugged. "Perhaps you succeeded, at that. Fzoul's never been this bold before."
The man in black seemed to suddenly become aware of their scrutiny. He rose and came around the table toward them, his face angry, With glittering eyes, he suspiciously looked their way.
His hands came up, and Tessaril's face suddenly tightened. She took a wand from her belt and held it in front of Shandril, drawing her back a step from the window, White lines of force sprang from Fzoul's hands, spiraling toward them across that far-off room-and then there was a sudden flash of blinding white, The window in front of them suddenly burst asunder, Glass shards flew in all directions, parting in front of Tessaril's wand as if before the prow of a ship.
In the empty, dark frame, only smoking ruin was left. The two women stood together looking at it for a long moment, and then sighed heavily.
Amid the broken glass that scrunched underfoot as they moved was something slippery, Shandril bent to look at the floor. Molten glass from the window had already hardened into droplets on the flagstones. A few were rather beautiful; they knelt to look at them together, Tessaril touched one, and then snatched scorched fingers back from it,
"I'm sorry about your window," Shandril said as the Lord of Eveningstar sucked her burned fingertips,
"But there's nothing to keep me here longer, now, I'd like to strike at this Fzoul right away."
Tessaril sat up and looked at her gravely, "Shan, you're not ready yet,"
Shandril nodded, smiled softly, and inclined her head toward the ruined window, "Neither," she said quietly, "is he."
Chapter 16
BLOOD, BLADES, AND BITTER
WORDS
Some kings sit upon more bloody thrones than this one, mind, When they talk business, 'tis all blood, blades, and bitter words.
Mirt the Moneylender
Wanderings With Quill and Sword
Year of Rising Mist
"Ill-prepared Fzoul may or may not be," the Lord of Eveningstar said quietly. "but if you rush in without plans and swords at your side, you will certainly be ill-prepared-and doomed."
"I think not," Shandril replied, eyes flashing. "Forgive me, Tess. but that's where you-and Storm, and everyone else except maybe Elminster makes a mistake. You think of going up against Zhentil Keep with an army, That sort of thing the Zhents know well, They've had much practice smashing down such attacks. I'll do much better if I go alone."
She strode to the bedroom closet and took out her battered pack, The few clothes she had left hung forlornly above it, With a determined air, she started to take them down.
"Alone? It'll mean your death, Shan." Tessaril shook her head. "Aren't you even going to take Narm and Mirt with you?"
"No," Shandril said quietly, "You and Storm just gave him back to me-I'm never going to lose him again if I can help it, I'm certainly not going to drag him to his certain death," She turned, a patched and dirt-stained gown in her hands, and added with the ghost of a smile, "And I can't sneak anywhere or do anything agile without a lot of noise if I'm saddled with the Old Wolf."
An involuntary smile came and went across Tessaril's features, "I'm not sure he'd be pleased to hear that," she said slyly, "Shall I go tell him?"
"No!" Shandril