Elminster_ The Making of a Mage - Ed Greenwood [60]
The father of the bride had gifted the happy pair with a statue of the rearing Stag of Athalantar (the beast, not the dead king) that had been sculpted from a single gigantic diamond, and was worth more than some large castles. The servant who carried it around all day on a glass-domed platter thought it might well have been heavier than some castles, too. Under a heavy guard, this eminently practical gift had been installed in the bridal bedchamber at the foot of the bed, where, as old Darrigo Trumpettower had put it with a wink and a leer, " 'Twould be in a fine position to watch!"
Nanue Glarmeir had worn an exquisite sky-blue gown crafted by the elves of far-off Shantel Othreier; her mother had proudly announced it had cost a thousand pieces of gold. Now it lay crumpled on the floor like so much discarded wrapping- which is precisely what the squeakily excited Peeryst thought it was-as the newly wedded couple toasted each other with sparkling moonbubble wine, and turned to raise their glasses to Selune, that she might smile down upon the bridal bed. The first pale rays of her radiance had peeked in the window far enough to touch the statue of the stag with moonlight, where it stood rampant and watchful on its own table at the foot of the bed.
Neither man nor wife noticed the deft pair of black-gloved hands reach up from under the bed and take away the gem-headed hairpins Nanue had just drawn out to let her hair cascade unbound down her elegant back (to Peeryst's breathless delight). Both newlyweds, however, did notice the sudden appearance of a pair of booted feet that blotted out the moon and then crashed through the fine glass of the largest arched bedchamber window, followed by their owner: a woman clad in tight-fitting black leathers with a badge on her breast, who wore a black half-mask.
The shapely intruder smiled at them sweetly as she drew a needle-thin blade from one boot and approached the stag. In all this excitement, none of the three heard an exasperated sigh from under the bed.
"Scream just once," she warned softly, "and I'll slide this into you."
Having been handed the idea, Nanue screamed-just once. Piercingly, too; shards of glass fell from the window-frame with a tinkling clatter.
The woman's face darkened into a snarl, and she ran across the room, poniard raised to stab. Seemingly by itself, a footstool beside the bed leapt up from the floor to catch her in the face; she reeled, lost her dagger, and fell heavily sideways into a wardrobe-which promptly toppled, slowly and grandly, over on top of her.
Nanue and Peeryst both boldly seized the initiative, shrieking in unison.
*****
Downstairs, befurred and bejeweled elders of both families heard the mighty crash and the screams. They raised knowing eyes and grins toward the ceiling and then toasted each other.
"Ah, yes," Darrigo Trumpettower said, leering over his glass at a Glarmeir lass almost half his age and blowing his bristling mustache out of his wine with a practiced puff. "I remember well my wedding night-the first one, at least; I was sober for that one. 'Twas back in the Year of the Gorgon Moon, as I recall…"
* * * * *
A dark figure rose up from beneath the bed, crept across the room, and ducked behind a lounge onto which Peeryst had grandly tossed his boots, one after the other, not so long ago. The intruder was safely out of sight before the next two thieves in leathers burst in through the other two windows, raining fresh glass onto the thick fur rugs. Peeryst and Nanue clutched each other, naked but not noticing anymore, and howled in fear, clawing at each other's backs in a frantic attempt to get going elsewhere-anywhere!
The two fresh arrivals wore the same masks and tight leathers with breast-badges as the first one had. One was a woman, the other a man, and both were looking wildly about the room.
"Where's she gone, then?"
"Hush, Minter-you'll rouse the house."
"Don't use my name, gods damn thy tongue!"
They drew daggers