Death of the Dragon - Ed Greenwood [78]
"We'll send a man to all the suspect parties," explained Elbert. "He'll pretend to be a craven coward in fear for his own life and claim I've called a secret meeting to divulge evidence about the identity of the assassin."
"And we'll know the identity of the cur by who shows up to kill us!" cried Tarr. "A grand plan, just grand!"
"As far as it goes," said Frayault, "but what do we do after we find out?"
"You really are as slow as you look, aren't you?" asked Lord Greenmantle. "We join them, of course!"
It was at this point that someone knocked on the door. The eyes of all six lords darted toward it, and Elbert Redbow had the presence of mind to snarl, "We said not to disturb us!"
"Yes, but you have not ordered a single mug of ale," replied the tavern keeper. "How am I to pay for the room's use? You must all buy at least one drink."
Elbert snorted in disgust, then looked to the others. "What say you? I'm thirsty anyway."
Lord Greenmantle nodded and stepped to the door. "A little refreshment never hurt anyone."
Greenmantle had barely slipped the chair from under the latch when the door crashed open and an anonymous hand tossed something tiny into the room. Elbert Redbow cursed and hurled himself across the table to make a diving catch. Something crackled, and suddenly the room stank of oil and brimstone.
Lord Redbow cursed again, and the air went scarlet.
24
"Keep well apart!" the swordlords shouted, turning as they strode to look at the Purple Dragons trudging along behind them and to gesture with their swords at dragoneers they judged to be gathered too closely. King Azoun almost smiled. It had been well over half a century ago when he'd first noticed that officers seemed to love pointing and gesturing with their blades. Perhaps many of them kept those swords unused and shiny in a diligent search for the greatest effect, so the steel would gleam and flash back the sun impressively when employed in such sweeping gestures.
The scouts were well ahead, their horns lofting from time to time to warn the advancing army of orc and goblin patrols or battle forays. The horn calls most often persuaded goblins to try to sprawl on the ground and await a chance to gut the unwary with knives before springing to their feet and racing away, but usually they made orcs retreat, trading muttered oaths and wary warnings. These retreats inevitably led to larger and larger whelmings in the hills ahead, until in the end, the king's forces would face a tusker army.
Azoun wasn't worried about that occurring as any sort of surprise. A massed orc attack would be heralded, he was sure, by the appearance-probably involving diving out of the sky to tear men apart or incinerate them with fire-of the dragon. It seemed odd, really, that the sky had been empty of the vengeful wyrm for so long now.
If only outpourings of magic didn't bring ghazneths swooping down to the attack. If only he could use the war wizards as they should be used, so he'd know where the dragon was and what she was doing at all times. She might have torn apart Suzail by now, roof by roof and wall by wall, or sunk half the ships tied up to the docks in Marsember, or…
It was beginning to gnaw at him, this not knowing, and Azoun was past the age where nothing much made him fret, and even farther past the years when he'd welcomed fresh challenges atop ongoing adversities. He was beginning to be a lion of shorter temper and earlier bedtimes, who ached all too often, and who welcomed the familiar.
He was beginning to feel truly old.
Azoun answered the next swordlord's shout with a wordless snarl that made the man blink and blanch and mutter some sort of confused apology. Azoun waved it away and dismissed the matter without even looking at him. The King of Cormyr was going to die out here, sword in hand and far from Filfaeril. His body would fall cold in the rolling backlands of the realm without ever warming his throne again or seeing younglings in bright finery take their first awkward strides at court after kneeling to their king. He was-in a shining moment of firmly