Elminster's Daughter - Ed Greenwood [129]
No matter how swiftly she leaped, she couldn't hope to avoid its thundering, crushing flood of stones. They'd bury the entire roof and probably smash flat the building beneath it…
The rolling crash shook his own perch, here atop one of newer and loftier buildings in Suzail. The dust rolled up… and with a groan like a dying dragon, the building the thief had been trotting across collapsed under its load of fallen stone, to the accompaniment of a few fresh screams.
Yes. Exit Narnra Shalace, and enter-her impostor.
Trying to bargain for the life of his daughter with Elminster and all the Chosen the Old Mage could call on was sheer foolishness… to say nothing of what such an… ah, active captive might do on her own, whilst he was busy bargaining… but being Elminster's daughter himself, now-yes! Even if the Old Mage caught up to him, the old goat could be warned away from mind-thrusts and meddlings by claiming Mystra's protection.
Yes. Risky, but everything to do with magic held risk. And if a certain Darkspells could stay ahead of the Old Mage of Shadowdale and snatch War Wizard magic by being Caladnei's little agent on the one hand and Elminster's daughter on the other, he could gain much ere it became necessary for Narnra to forever disappear.
The Red Wizard smiled thinly and waved his hand. The air beside him obediently wavered into an image of the Waterdhavian thief he'd just slain.
He studied it carefully, peering and crouching to do so, before beginning the spell that would give him Narnra's likeness.
Across a forest of rooftops, Glarasteer Rhauligan stared at the rising dust in horror, his last glimpse of the frantically leaping Narnra as the stones came down etched into his mind.
"Narnra!" he shouted, knowing that his cry was in vain. Nothing could have survived that smashing blow from above, even if…
A movement caught his eye on another rooftop, and he found himself gazing at a robed man who was just gaining a companion-as Narnra's image appeared out of thin air before him. The man studied it, frowning and ducking about to peer intently, and started to work a spell. His shape rippled and started to change- even as the conjured Narnra rippled and started to fade.
Rhauligan burst into a run, leaping and racing across rooftops, jerking out daggers to hurl and spitting furious curses non-stop, trying to get close enough to…
Harnrim Starangh struck a pose and looked down at the hand-mirror he'd propped against the husk of a long-dead pigeon earlier. Yes, he now looked like that pouty, hawk-nosed lass.
He retrieved his mirror, stowed it in an unfamiliar pocket, and gave Suzail a farewell smile. It was time to see Shadowdale again, cozy up to the oh-so-great Elminster, and learn a few of his secrets at last.
The figure atop the roof vanished abruptly, and Rhauligan's first dagger flashed through empty air to clink and rattle to a tumbling stop at the far end of an empty roof. The Harper's roar of rage followed it.
* * * * *
The street full of rubble and running, shouting men suddenly gained another occupant. This one was tall, gaunt, and dressed in shabby robes that vied with their wearer's long white beard in looking old and the worse for wear.
Elminster raised one bristling brow and peered around, humming thoughtfully as War Wizards and Purple Dragons came pelting up from all directions.
Barring spell barriers, his tracing spell should deliver him to a spot mere feet away from Narnra, and that could only mean she was…
Oh, Mystra. Oh, bleeding merciful Mystra.
Heedless of shouts calling on him to surrender or identify himself and to lay aside all weapons, the Old Mage knelt by the great pile of shattered and tumbled stone that reached to the very toes of his worn old boots and muttered a very old spell. Some of the rocks right in front of him glowed, and he spat out a curse that made the Purple Dragon running up to him with drawn sword at the ready gape in surprise.
The old man planted his feet, shook back his sleeves,