Crown of Fire - Ed Greenwood [88]
"No one disturbs the lord at this hour," he said flatly.
"I do," the big man levelly replied, "just as Azoun does." The Purple Dragons stiffened at that, but their spear points did not come down.
"Go away until morning," Azatlim said. "And take care to speak with respect when you name the king."
"I did," growled the man, "considering-ah, ne'er mind. We must speak with Tessaril, man, and speedily! We’ll not go away, I warn ye."
"You warn me?" Thrulgar repeated, voice rising. "Who are you, stout one, to stand on the soil of Cormyr and 'warn' a Purple Dragon of anything?"
"Guards," the slight lass said quietly, "if you can spare a moment from blustering, look at me."
Two startled sets of eyes did so, but Azatlim was moved to ask, "Why?" in tones that were just on the proper side of a sneer.
'Because of this," she told them evenly, then raised one arm slowly to point at the sky behind her.
Without taking her eyes off the guards, she let flames crawl slowly from her shoulder to her fingertips, and then explode with a sudden roar into a bright pillar of fire, raging skyward. In the next moment, it was gone. She closed her hand and said in the same calm voice, "I'd hate to have to use it on you to get in that door-but I've just used it on Manshoon of the Zhentarim, and he died very easily."
The guards in chain mail stared at her, and their faces grew pale. They hastily yanked down their visors and raised their shields.
"Come ahead, then," Thrulgar's voice came hollowly from within the all-concealing war-helm. It trembled only slightly. "For Azoun we stand, and for Azoun well fall."
The woman hesitated. These men clearly meant her no harm, and she had no love for slaughter. Both their spear points were leveled at tier breast now-and as she waited, one of them reached out and slapped at a gong behind him.
Struck glancingly in frantic haste, the gong made only a sort of clank, but the doors behind the men opened almost immediately. An unshaven man clad only in boots and a flight robe looked out, a drawn sword in his hand. "What befalls here?" he asked, peering over the shoulders of the guards.
"These three demand immediate audience with Lord Tessaril," said Thrulgar without turning around.
"The maid threatened us with conjured fire if we didn't let her pass."
"I saw and heard the flames out the windows of my room," the man with the sword said dryly. He straightened. "Outlanders, I am Tzin Tzummer, Herald to the Lord Tessaril and king's man. More guards await within, and I can call on many others if need be. Even using magic, you cannot prevail here by force of arms. Tell me your names, and why you are so set on seeing the lord now."
"I am Mirt," the fat old man said, waving at his companions to keep silent. "and as a Lord of Waterdeep, I demand audience with Lord Tessaril Winter."
The herald frowned. "None know the identities of those who wear the masks of the Lords of Waterdeep, save for the Lord Piergeiron of that city. Anyone could come to this door claiming to be a Lord of Waterdeep. Besides, it's highly unlikely a Lord of Waterdeep would ever come to Cormyr without a large escort, an invitation from the king, and-ah, rather more splendid clothing."
You don't know Waterdeep very well," Mirt murmured.
"Whether I do or not," Tzin Tzummer replied coolly, your claim is not going to move me to let you in, especially given the magic the maid among you wields-all here will resist to the death, if need be. If you'd prefer, one of the guards can escort you to the inn- The Lonesome Tankard, just up the road, there-and see that you get comfortable rooms. Come back in the morning."
Mirt inclined his head. "Reasonable words, herald, yet we can no longer afford to be reasonable. D’you know what this is?" Slowly his hands went to his belt, opened a pouch there, and drew forth a Harper pendant, on its broken chain.
The herald's eyes widened, but he said slowly, "That device is welcome here, as are those who bear it.
Yet we serve Azoun here, not the silver harp. Could