Crown of Fire - Ed Greenwood [130]
Fzoul could not see the spell engine, but he knew that it now filled most of the room behind him: a great wheel that would begin to spin if spells struck it, absorbing the magic to power itself. Manshoon's greatest work. It drank all magic cast at it.
Fzoul smiled tightly, opened the front door of the tower, and waited.
As though on cue, a man appeared in the doorway-a son in dark leathers, a bow slung at his back. He panted briefly, then caught his breath, "You sent for us, Lord?"
"Aye," Fzoul said, looking out at the score of Zhentilar archers gathered there. "Thank you for your promptness; it is appreciated. Do any of you hear any sort of magic item with you? Anything that carries an enchantment?"
One man held up a dagger.
"Leave it outside," Fzoul ordered, "and retrieve it later, To carry it into this chamber could mean your doom," Several other archers hastily divested themselves of small items; Fzoul hid a smile by turning away and saying, "Come!"
In the forehall, he turned to face them, "Ready bows, and conceal yourselves behind the tapestries in this room, and in doorways and entries all around the Spell Court, I want you hidden, mind, and silent until I give the signal, thus. Respond only to this signal: other archers will be stationed openly in the court. Orders to them to loose shafts, or their doing so, are not orders for you to fire."
The high priest looked at them coldly. "When your signal does come, you are to fire at the intruders-not to kill, whatever they do, hut only to bring down your targets. I will inform you verbally if there are any changes in these orders once battle begins,"
His face melted into a slow, soft smile that held no mirth or friendliness, and he added, "I don't need to warn you what your fate will he if you should happen to send an arrow my way, The wizards of our Brotherhood are running short of people to test new spells on,"
He looked around briskly, "Any questions?" Silence, He clapped his hands, "Right-string bows, and hide yourselves! Be ready!"
When they were hidden, Fzoul strolled quickly around Spell Court, nodded his satisfaction, and went hack to the forehall.
Standing not far inside the doors, he drew a deck of cards from a pocket in his robes, and idly began to play a betting game he was fond of, Without other players, he merely dealt two cards off the top of the deck to see what hand Tymora, the goddess of luck-or his own lord, Bane-had given him.
The first two cards were a magician and a priestess, one of the two best hands in the game. Fzoul smiled in satisfaction. The second hand consisted of two priest cards, and his smile faded, They were the weakest hand one could draw. Whoever devised the game had not been fond of priests, he thought darkly, and drew another hand.
This time, he drew the other highest possible hand, and hummed to himself contentedly as he shuffled the deck. He'd barely finished humming that first song when suddenly, figures appeared in Spell Court, very near the Wizards' Watch Tower. Fzoul recognized the slim, curvaceous Lord of Eveningstar; a fat, aging man whom Fzoul knew to be a Lord of Waterdeep; two pleasure-queens of the citadel; the young mage-and his mate, the lass who wielded spellfire. An odd band of heroes, to be sure.
Fzoul smiled tightly and gestured with his free hand, Arrows sang as they flew.
Chapter 20
CROWN OF FIRE
There is no greater glory in the Realms than winning-or defending-a crown. Never forget that… Even wizards can surprise ye.
Mirt the Moneylender
Wanderings With Quill and Sword
Year of Rising Mist
Shandril, behind her companions, raised her hands, and spellfire poured out. A bright net of spellflame suddenly surrounded the party. The arrows striking it burst into white pulses of light, hissing, and were gone,
"Come!" she cried, and strode to the door of Wizards' Watch Tower, keeping the bright net of flames behind them all. The Zhentilar soldiers around the edges of the courtyard did not follow, their faces fearful.
From where he stood near