Elminster's Daughter - Ed Greenwood [107]
Something was winking in an empty niche: a tiny star of activation. The Red Wizard stepped back. He'd seen the most powerful of zulkirs use such things. Unless touched by the right being or counterspelled in precisely the right way they visited disaster on anyone disturbing them. Its presence meant that Vangerdahast had a second array of scrolls behind this first one-and that he was far more powerful in his Art than Sta-rangh had thought.
The Thayan frowned, whirled, and carefully cast the spells that would burn out the brains of the two War Wizards from within and take with them all remembrance of his own appearance. He plucked his dart from the bubbling flames and took it with him, just in case. It had taken two years of retching weakness to build up a resistance to killing doses of staeradder, but he could now employ it without fear of dying from a casual scratch.
The man War Wizards called Old Thunderspells was not a doddering old fool but a graybeard magically much stronger than anyone in Thay gave him credit for. Defying him with taunts and a flourish of spells would be the act of a fool-and Harnrim Sta-rangh would not leap into the recklessness that had taken so many ambitious young Red Wizards to their deaths.
It was time for the velvet glove, not the fist of fireballs. He'd arrange for Joysil to learn about Vangerdahast's scheme. In her dragon shape, her enraged attack should destroy or weaken the old wizard. Whatever befell in battle, more magic should be uncovered for Harnrim Starangh to oh-so-casually find.
Darkspells of Thay departed the sanctum as hastily and stealthily as he knew how.
The whirling flames collapsed again, taking a small and inoffensive three-legged stool with them this time. It was flaming kindling in an instant and drifting ashes the next.
"Blast! Damn and blast!" Vangerdahast said wearily, leaning on his worktable. "There's something wrong with this last bit." He tapped two lines of runes then brightened. "Hey, now! If I change-"
"Into a pumpkin? Perhaps, but tomorrow'll be soon enough for that," Myrmeen Lhal said firmly, springing up from her chair and sheathing her blade with a flourish.
She took the former Royal Magician firmly by one elbow and turned him from the table, the pain causing him to blink at her, scrabble wildly to keep hold of his notes then give up and stumble along as she towed him, snapping gruffly, "You don't have to treat me like some witless sack of grain, lass!"
"No, of course not," she replied fondly, leaning close to him with her eyes dancing, "and I'll soon stop doing so just as soon as you stop behaving like one!"
"Lass! Uh, lass! Myrmeen, damn you, girl! I've just a few tweaks more to work with it and 'twill be done, damn it!"
"Of course-as you work right through the night and the next morning and much of the day that follows it, doing those few little tweaks!"
Vangerdahast blinked at her as they went out into the passage. "But of course, lass. 'Tis magic."
"Indeed," the Lady Lord of Arabel agreed, still towing him firmly along. "And magic of a different sort will soon unfold in the kitchen, once you're sitting there resting with a good stiff drink and I get started on the cooking. Gods above, man, you've waited decades to play with your spells-this one can wait for a single night longer."
"Oh, but…"
"Oh, but you're almost falling-down weary. Take a seat." The ranger practically shoved Vangerdahast into a chair, clunked his best drinking-horn down in front of him, and filled it to the flaring brim with-
"Gods, woman! Old Amberfire! Where did you get this?"
"From your cellars," Myrmeen told him sweetly. " Twon't keep forever,