Elminster's Daughter - Ed Greenwood [118]
The warrior's face melted-just for a moment-into that of the wizard Darkspells.
Huldyl considered fainting for a moment then settled for just swallowing hard and obediently walking toward the Red Wizard, who smiled, became a Purple Dragon again, and led the way through another door.
* * * * *
The anklet was doing its work perfectly. Even better, Caladnei thus far suspected nothing. A trifle too slow and trusting still, our Mage Royal…
Elminster smiled wryly. To say nothing of the increasingly slow wits of one Elminster of Shadowdale.
Caladnei's thoughts had certainly been in turmoil this last little while, as she kept a hostile mind sane within her own, but the anklet's light prying had been more than clear on one matter: Narnra Shalace was his daughter.
"Bless ye, Mystra," he murmured. "This now calls for bolder action."
He called to mind her likeness there in his paper-littered study and with a soft-spoken spell built it from a vivid mental image to an apparently solid figure in leathers, glaring at him through dark hair. Its pose was frozen as he strolled around it, peering critically and adjusting hips there and height of shoulder there…
He frowned, beckoned with his finger, and told the curved pipe that answered his summons, "I can't remember how she walked and held her hands when she moved. Time to go and take a peek."
Leaving the pipe floating mutely in front of a fading Narnra, he turned, took a step, and vanished.
* * * * *
The bard wore leathers that were gray with age arid thick with road-dust. His face was largely hidden behind a pewter tankard as tall as a short warrior's breastplate, and he sat hunched over a table in the gloom in the back corner of this particular taproom in Suzail because this-specifically, the broom-closet door behind him-was where the portal-link to Marsember was.
Roldro Tattershar didn't think too many folk of Cormyr, even Highknights and War Wizards, knew about this particular portal anymore. Not even most of his fellow Harpers had heard of it. Wherefore Roldro took care to affix a villainous false mustache onto his upper lip whenever he visited The Green Wyvern and employ garb far different from his customary floridly flamboyant dress.
However, as he set down his tankard on this particular occasion, he choked and almost swallowed his mustache when the air right in front of him wavered and suddenly produced two men, standing with their backs to him where there'd been nothing but empty air before. Swiftly and silently Roldro put his head down on his arm and let his tankard loll and lean in his thumb, looking every inch the passed-out drunkard.
"I can't stay long!" the shorter man hissed, running a nervous hand through the few strands of brown hair that were left across his balding pate. "I was about to report the ah, troubles at the sanctum to Laspeera. A lot of palace duty-guards saw me pass!"
"How much do you think the Mage Royal and Laspeera know about the details of Vangerdahast's work?"
Rauthur frowned. "Almost all of it. He trained both of them."
"No, no! His grand scheme-the one he's working on right now! Binding dragons to be defenders of Cormyr!"
"Oh! Ah, that plan. Is that really what he's…? Gods! Uh, I'm-I'm not sure. I can try to find out, but… well, I'm not a very sly questioner."
"That'sstone cold truth, Rauthur. Why not say you heard Van-gerdahast muttering something to himself like 'these dragon bindings will never work!' when his shields went down for a moment, as part of these 'troubles,' and mark their reactions?"
"Ah-yes, yes, of course!"
"Good!" The taller, thinner man muttered something else-and the room was suddenly empty again of all but three tables, their chairs, and a Harper feigning a drunken stupor.
Roldro Tattershar promptly sprang up from his chair like a bolt of lightning in a hurry, yanked open the broom-closet door, and drained his tankard in one long pull ere setting it down carefully on the table and backing through the closet