Elminster in Myth Drannor - Ed Greenwood [102]
"Aye, but if such aid arrives and finds him dead," Lord Tassarion said thoughtfully, "things are far different than if we draw one or even all six of the lady sorceresses-members of noble houses themselves, remember, with the blood prices their deaths will inevitably carry-into the fray before we are sure that we can slay the Coronal then and there. I do not want to be caught in a drawn-out battle across half the realm with six hostile sorceresses able to teleport into our laps and then out again, if we can't know that we are buying the Coronal's sure and swift death with whatever price we pay."
"I don't think we are ready to slay a Coronal yet," Lord Bellas lisped. "I see us still standing undecided between three alternatives: publicly challenging the Coronal's rule; or openly slaying him; or merely being nearby when an 'unfortunate accident' befalls our beloved ruler."
"Lords all," their host said firmly, " 'tis clear that we'll be some time in reaching agreement on any of these matters. I have engagements ahead this eve, and the longer we six sit gathered here, the greater the chance that someone in the realm will hear or suspect something." The Lord Maendellyn looked around the room and added, "If we part now, and all think on the three matters Lord Yeschant so capably outlined, I trust that when I send word three morns hence, we can meet again armed with what we'll need to strike an agreement."
" 'Strike' is aptly chosen," someone muttered, as the others said, "Agreed" around the table, and they rose swiftly and made for the doors, to depart.
For a moment El was tempted to linger and follow one or more of these conspirators, but their mansions or castles were all easily located in the city, and he had his own needs to attend to. He must see for himself if Cormanthor still had a Coronal to murder, or if someone else had beaten these exalted lords to the deed.
He swooped out of the window and around Castle Maendellyn without delay, racing past its other turrets in the direction he'd originally been heading. The lovely gardens stretched on beneath him as he went. Lovely, and well-guarded; no less than three barriers flashed in front of him as he thrust through them and raced on, seeking the spires he knew.
The gardens ended at last in a high wall cloaked in a thick tangle of trees. A street lay beyond the wall, and a row of houses fronted onto the street. Their back gardens rose through lush plantings and under duskwood trees to another street. On its far side were the walls of the palace gardens.
The watchnorns here might be able to see him, but El had to reach the palace, so he drifted on, cautiously now, for fear that the enchantments that girded the High House of Cormanthor would be more powerful than those he'd encountered thus far.
Perhaps they were, but they saw him not. Nor did any of the ghostly guardians appear. Elminster slipped into the palace by an upper window, and glided up and down its halls, feeling strangely ill at ease. The place was splendid, but its upper floor was almost empty; only a few servants padded about in soft boots, seeing leisurely to the dust with minor spells.
Of the Coronal himself he saw no sign, but in a little outlying turret on the north side of the palace he found a gathering strangely similar to that he'd just witnessed breaking up in Castle Maendellyn: six noble lords sitting around a polished table. This gathering had a seventh grave-faced elf present: the High Court Mage Earynspieir. Elminster did not know any of the others.
Lord Earynspieir was on his feet, pacing. Elminster drifted into the room and took his seat at the table, undetected.
"We know there are plots being hatched even now," an old and rather plump elf down at the end of the table said. "Every gathering, be it revel or formal audience, from now on must be treated as a potential battle."
"More like a series of waiting ambushes," another elf commented.
The High Court Mage turned. "Lord Droth," he said, nodding at the stout elf, "and Lord Bowharp, please believe that