Elminster Must Die_ The Sage of Shadowdale - Ed Greenwood [11]
There came the faintest of rustlings from the far side of the duskwoods.
“That was someone, to be sure,” the second voice snapped. “When I—”
“Aye,” a third voice growled disgustedly. “ ’Twas me. Can’t you two move through the Hullack without hissing like a pair of chambermaids hard at their gossip? Merlar, I know wizards of war can’t take six steps without talking about it, but I expect better of you. I trained you.”
“Sorry,” the first whisperer muttered, so close to Storm that she could have reached out and slapped him without fully straightening her arm.
“Come,” the third voice breathed, soft and deep, and Storm heard the faintest of footfalls on damp dead leaves underfoot. The newcomer was advancing straight toward Tethgard.
Straight toward El and Lass.
Merlar and the mage who’d been up in the tree moved to follow, and Storm moved with them, hidden amid their noise.
“Who’s that?” another voice hissed out of the darkness on the other side of the three Cormyreans.
“Nordroun,” the third voice replied flatly, “and who are you to be issuing challenges, Shuldroon? As I recall, you’re supposed to be over on our other flank, with Kelgantor between us.”
“I am between,” came a new voice, cold and level. “The land rises to our east, and its slope seems to have brought Shuldroon and his three straying back this way, bringing us all together. So halt, everyone, before someone’s blundering ends in a blade finding friendly flesh in the dark. Sir Nordroun, call your roll.”
“Merlar?” came the prompt whisper.
“Here,” that highknight replied from right in front of Storm. “Therlon is with me, and Starbridge our rear guard.” Two nearby murmurs came out of the night as those men confirmed their presence.
“And I,” Nordroun continued, “stand near enough to touch Merlar. My mage is Hondryn—”
“Here,” a thin and unfriendly voice put in.
“—and Danthalus is my rear guard.” Another murmur.
“Rorsorn?” Nordroun asked.
“I’m here, accompanying ranking Wizard of War Kelgantor and the mages Tethlor and Mreldrake. Jusprar’s our rear guard.”
Kelgantor gave his name with prompt, cold clarity, and the other three muttered theirs dutifully in his wake.
Shuldroon did not wait for Nordroun, highest ranking of all highknights in the realm notwithstanding. His tone of voice made it clear that he considered all highknights lackeys whose proper place was behind and beneath every wizard of war—and the sooner they all learned that, the better. “I am here, the knight Athlar is with me, and the knight Rondrand follows behind us.” He was echoed by the two highknights confirming their presence.
“Anyone else?” Kelgantor asked, and a little silence fell.
“Good, we don’t seem to have acquired any eavesdroppers,” the leader of the force announced a few breaths later, his voice too flat and cold for anyone to dare to laugh. “Therlon, report.”
“My spells can’t detect the two we seek—or anyone else—ahead of us. The warding spells around Tethgard have decayed into an utter chaos of moving, ever-changing Art that foils all scrying magic. In both directions, I’d judge.”
“I am less than surprised,” Kelgantor replied. “Tethlor reported the same conditions. Enough delay. Rear guards, maintain your positions; all other knights, advance three paces, forming a front line as well as you can in this murk. We wizards will follow behind you. Rear guards, when you hear us start to move, follow on. No need for delay and little enough for caution, I’d say. Parley if it is offered, but strike back to slay without hesitation if magic is sent against us. Any queries?”
“Kelgantor,” Tethlor said quietly, “Ganrahast warned us to be very careful. ‘Beware Elminster,’ he said. ‘He’s more formidable than he seems.’ ”
Kelgantor’s voice came back a shade colder. “I’ve not forgotten that advice. Yet heading up the wizards of war does something regrettable but inescapable to every mage who’s tried it; every Royal Magician I’ve known or read about has come to see lurking