Elminster in hell - Ed Greenwood [63]
Mirt's frown was black.
With a little shiver, Asper saw him in memory-once again in the saddle in his mercenary days, hearing of the treachery of a Tethyrian noble and vowing to repay it.
The blade in Mirt's hand leaped a little. Seeing it move, one of the younger guards reached for his own sword out of habit.
"I'll tell you what I can, when I can," Mirt said, striding on. "My thanks, Tor. I know the way." And he was gone, boots flapping. Asper danced at his elbow on lighter feet.
:
Torgent turned back to the gate, a fierce smile on his face. "Now, by my sword, we'll see something! I'd see the back of all this mystery, lads-and that man'll do it where others would strike stone and fall back. There'll be some wild times ahead, or I miss my guess!" He sat down again whistling a jaunty old marching song.
The younger guards exchanged glances, shrugged, and grinned. More than one of them stole a look the way Mirt and Asper had gone, Not one remarked on Asper's beauty. Torgent looked just a mite stirred up for that.
Magic, elminster. When do we get to the magic?
Soon, devil, soon.
That refrain has come so many times, it's almost a chant.
That it is, Nergal. Would ye like the entire ballad?
[disgust] get on with showing me remembrances, wizard. I'll not sit still for your singing.
[amusement, bright images flashing]
They took a secret passage, and another, and avoided most guards and almost all servants. Mirt was known, and his ready passwords and display of a signet ring of Waterdeep carried them swiftly to the doors of the Inner Audience Chamber.
The guards held ready blades and moved them aside not a finger's width while their captain went in to announce them. He was a long time coming out again. When he did, his voice was cold.
"The Lord Piergeiron will see you both. Reluctantly. Lay down your blades and follow."
Mirt shrugged and dropped his blade. He had others, to spare, about him. Asper handed hers hilt-first to the nearest guard.
"Cheery greeting, indeed," Mirt said, matching the guard captain's cold stare with the steel of his own anger.
Were he not a lord of Waterdeep, he'd have little way of even reaching the First Lord. These guards did not known his true standing.
Were they not lords, his friends would not now be dead-nor would warning Piergeiron be necessary.
Mirt's face was as dark as his mood as he stalked into the gloom of the Inner Audience Chamber. Ahead, Piergeiron sat in full armor under a single lamp.
''Dismissed," Mirt snapped at the guard captain.
The guard ignored him. Who did this fat moneylender think himself to be, anyway? Lord of all lords in Waterdeep?
Piergeiron's silent gesture reinforced Mirt's order.
Mirt waved to Asper with one finger to keep her eye on Piergeiron. No sooner had the guard closed the door than die Old Wolf spun about, a dagger appearing from somewhere about his person to flash through the air» and transfix the bell-rope not four inches from the First Lord's hand.
Asper gasped.
Mirt stomped forward, leaped on Piergeiron, jammed iron fingers into the visor-swivel, and jerked it upward as they crashed together to the floor.
"I thought not," he snarled, staring into shocked brown eyes within. "Who are you, and what have you done with Piergeiron?" Without waiting for a reply or shifting his gaze, he snapped, "Take that wrist, lass, and hold it up over his head! 'Ware daggers!"
The struggles beneath him were feeble. In another instant he had the helm unbuckled. He tore it off with more haste than gentleness-to reveal