Elminster Must Die_ The Sage of Shadowdale - Ed Greenwood [98]
“Uh, urh … so am I,” that noble said sullenly. “We … we were drunk, is the truth of it.” He looked around, wincing at all the blood among the sprawled bodies, and added reluctantly, “The House of Windstag will make amends for all of this, Swordcaptain. We were in the wrong.”
Then he gave Arclath a long and murderous look.
The Purple Dragon officer wagged a finger. “I saw that, O most noble heir of Windstag. Should anything befall Lord Delcastle, I’ll know who to set the wizards to questioning.”
Windstag’s reply was short, emphatic, and extremely rude.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
HANDS CLASPED OVER A DECANTER
The two door guards were enthusiastically discussing their chances with the prettiest of the junior chambermaids when the bent old man in ragged clothes shuffled between them, gave them both a pleasant nod, and stepped out of the palace into the night.
The younger guard stiffened, but his older companion—after a swift, craning look that told him the departing man was empty-handed—nodded back and said affably, “The gods grant ye a fair night and a pleasant one.”
The reply to that was a silent, smiling wave, ere the old man trudged off, bent over and moving none too swiftly.
“You just let him go!” the younger guard hissed then. “That was this Rhauligan we’re supposed to—”
“Supposed to promptly usher out of the palace if we see him,” the older guard growled. “And that’s just what we did. Aye?”
The bent figure dwindled into the distance down the well-lit promenade.
“It … it doesn’t feel right, what we did,” the younger guard protested as the old man vanished from sight somewhere in the night gloom.
“What doesn’t feel right is some of these overly hasty and bullying orders our younger war wizards are all too fond of giving,” the older one replied heavily. “A little too eager to command, they are, and a lot too lazy to think through consequences before they open their mouths. Some of them need to get their fingers burned and learn a little wisdom. Hopefully, before this council dumps some real trouble into their laps.”
“You think it’ll go ill, then?”
The veteran Purple Dragon’s answer took the form of a long, meaningful look.
Both Dragons might have felt rather differently if they’d been able to see old Elgorn Rhauligan at that moment. He’d straightened up and was striding along far faster and more steadily than when he’d shuffled his way between them.
Elminster was in a hurry as he headed into the heart of the city.
“H-here,” Belgryn Murenstur said in a rush, turning to face the two burning men and hastily backing away, even as he indicated the carved hanging sign of the woman poised on a forest rock with bent bow above the heads of many snapping wolves. “The Bold Archer!”
“Thank ye, goodman,” the shorter of the two replied. “Strangely enough, reading plain Common is something we can manage for ourselves.”
The taller man made a swift movement toward Belgryn, but his companion shook his head. “We need to leave one witness, Treth.”
He looked back at Belgryn. “Go in and see if Huntcrown’s still in there. Warn him—or anyone—that we’re here, and ye will die. Very slowly.”
“We’ll slice off thy tongue first,” the taller man murmured almost gently. “Then thy nose. Then one thumb, and then the other …”
“Enough, Treth. He’s starting to shake,” the shorter man interrupted—and lunged forward to slap Belgryn across the face so hard that the proprietor of Murenstur’s Imported Vintages banged his head on the front wall of the club, lost his breath, and ended up blinking dazedly into the man’s wide, endless smile.
“Just go inside, see if Huntcrown’s in there, and come right back out and tell us so. Through this door, not some other way, or Treth will begin his little surgeries the moment we find ye. Which won’t be long.”
The presence inside him rose up to fill him with dark confidence, and Belgryn found himself nodding furiously and rushing almost eagerly inside the Bold Archer.
In the space of three swiftly gulped breaths, he was back out again, eyes wide with terror. All his dark confidence,