Crown of Fire - Ed Greenwood [98]
You are our next chance, Beliarge. This Shandril is weaker now than she has ever been-and word has come to me that Elminster and the Harpers are no longer guarding her. All you need overcome is the Lord of Eveningstar, a woman who thinks herself something of a wizard. I'm sure you can prevail against the likes of her"
Sarhthor stirred, but said nothing. Beliarge bowed and smiled.
With cold pride, the High Priest of the Black Altar looked around the chamber. At last the Brotherhood was under his command. It would be best not to make the same mistakes Manshoon's arrogance had led him into. He gave them all a cold smile and asked, "Is there counsel anyone here would like to add?
Ideas, disputes, or other business? I would like everyone to speak freely, without fear of reprisal-for we are truly a Brotherhood, out a tyranny."
There was a moment of silence, and then Sarhthor spoke. "There is one thing more: a report from one who survived the failed attempt for spellfire in the Stonelands."
Fzoul raised an eyebrow. "I did not know anyone had survived."
Sarhthor nodded and gestured, dismissing a spell, The features of a mage standing behind him flowed and shifted-and Fzoul found himself looking at a woman who must have been stunningly beautiful before she became so burned and disheveled. Now she looked like a victim of a leprous infection that had eaten cruelly at her. Bristles of short hair adorned one side of that ruined head and locks hung long and silky down the other. Someone in the room hissed in revulsion.
"Who are you?" Fzoul asked briskly. Frightened eyes met his for a moment.
"Tespril, Lord. I'm-I was apprenticed to Gathlarue." Fzoul nodded. Gathlarue the Wonder Wizard, he'd heard that one called, who thought women should rule the Brotherhood but was so feeble-witted that she thought she could conceal her gender from her fellow Zhentarim. She'd led the attack at Irondrake Rock, hadn't she?
"Greetings, Tespril," he said coldly. "Tell us what befell at lrondrake Rock."
She raised startled eyes for a moment-did the high priest know everything?-and began. "My mistress, accompanied by myself and her other apprentice, Mairara, was in Marsember on Brotherhood business, with ten and six Zhentilar as escort. We received orders to hunt Shandril Shessair after she entered Cormyr, and chased her through the Hullack Forest. She reached Irondrake Rock in the Stonelands before we caught up with her. It seemed to be her destination; I don't know why."
Fzoul raised his eyebrows but silently waited for her to continue.
Tespril stared at him uncertainly, then said, "My mistress decided the confined area Shandril and her companions had reached offered an excellent chance to defeat them."
"How many companions had she?" an upperpriest asked sharply.
Tespril turned tired eyes on him. "Three." she said. "The young mage who is her male-he has no power to speak of – a dwarf, and a man named Mirt, whom we believe to be the same Mirt widely believed to be a Lord of Waterdeep."
Fzoul's eyes gleamed. Here was a chance for a fat ransom-or better, an agent in the City of Splendors under the magical control of the Brotherhood. He asked calmly, Did they speak of meeting anyone?'
Tespril spread her hands. "Not that I heard. Dusk fell while they were still exploring the area, and my mistress decided to attack."
"You failed," Fzoul said flatly. "Why?"
"My mistress believed that the gargoyles she commanded-by means of rings she'd crafted-could defeat Shandril and her companions. Only Mirt, we believed, carried an enspelled weapon." Tespril shook her head, remembering the horrors of the fight. "I-I fled after my mistress was slain. I think we killed the dwarf, and the Brotherhood should know that Gathlarue's forcewall spell seemed to thwart