Crown of Fire - Ed Greenwood [129]
"I'll be needing you soon,"
"You will indeed," Sarhthor replied, so quietly that Fzoul's nest coldly spoken orders drowned out the sound. Finished with his lackeys, the high priest strode out the room, down the stain, and to the Spell Court.
"Who speaks for Bane?" Elthaulin's voice rang out, echoing from the towers around the courtyard as Fzoul came in, The upperpriest held the scepter of Bane high above his head, Sunlight gleamed on the glossy-smooth black hand at its tip,
"The darkness of night" half a hundred throats replied, "Who walks the night?"
"those who are faithful," came the unison response. "How shall they be known?"
"By the blood they spill," the assembly thundered, Elthaulin brought the scepter down into the shielded bowl of black blood in front of him, Its level of liquid began to drop immediately, "Behold our sacrifice to the Dread Lord! Behold, the Great Lord Bane drinks the blood we have given-"Behold!"
In triumph, he held up the empty bowl. "Bane is satisfied I'm sure," Fzoul's dry voice cut in and sudden silence fell. The Master of the Black Altar added, "Enough, Elthaulin. Have done with ritual, Brothers-I need you all ready for battle within the hour. This Shandril is coming for me, and shell find her way here, no doubt, all too soon"
A rush of shocked, obedient priests followed. Amid the harrying clamor, Fzoul stopped a servant and murmured some commands, The servant rushed off, and Fzoul strolled unconcernedly across the courtyard.
Wondering priests, on their knees to pray to Bane for spells, looked up in awe at his cool and calm manner, Only when he was well inside. the tower again and sure they could no longer see him did Fzoul break into a run, taking the stairs in frantic baste.
Tessaril came out onto the porch and found her herald sitting with the guards, correcting a blazon with careful strokes of his brush,
"I'm sorry to disturb you," she said quietly, and the tone of her voice made him look up quickly, "I charge you to assume command of the king's affairs and of justice in Eveningstar for a time. I'm going to the Citadel of the Raven-to war,"
Mouths dropped open all down the porch. The blood drained from the herald's face, and he started to say something, Tessaril held up a hand to forestall the torrent of words she knew was coming, then said, "if I do not come back, tell Azoun I did what I had to do-and that I have always loved him," Her voice trembled, and fell to a whisper, "It has been an honor to serve the Purple Dragon."
She turned away quickly then, before her voice broke, and hurried back inside her tower, She did not want to look even once at the beautiful village around her-in case it should prove to be the last time.
Fzoul found the room he was looking for. He chose a mace, a weighty hammer, and a javelin from the racks around its walls. The weapons hefted well in his hands. Next he turned his attention to the wall, where he knew a secret rune was hidden. The high priest smiled as he found it, pushed and turned the rune-adorned panel, and watched part of the wall swing open, The niche within held a skull, a mummified hand, and several bottles of brown glass, He chose one bottle, wiped the dust from it, undid the seal, and experimentally licked the yellow liquid within.
The burning sensation on his tongue made him nod with satisfaction; it was still deadly-to others, at least. Over years of careful exposure, he'd built up a resistance to this particular poison. Carefully the high priest anointed the weapons he'd chosen, girded himself about with them, replaced the bottle, and closed the door of its hiding place.
Then he descended to the forehall of the tower, stood on a paving stone that had been enchanted by Manshoon years ago, and spoke one of the words the mage had taught him, An almost inaudible singing sound answered him as the hidden spell engine Manshoon had prepared spun silently out of another plane and into solid existence in Faerim. It could appear only in this place, but Fzoulbeing the spellfire maid's