Elminster's Daughter - Ed Greenwood [131]
On the path ahead-right at the halfway bend, on a gentle slope that had been utterly empty a moment earlier-stood two figures.
Two identical figures, one of them carrying a limp, senseless third duplicate who was shrouded in dust and blood and whose clothes were much torn.
Florin stared. Aye, all three were the same slender, muscled woman in tattered leathers and boots, with tousled, hacked-off-short black hair, dark eyes, and a strong nose like a gentler version of Elminster's hawk-beak.
Both of the upright women were staring at each other in obvious surprise-unwelcome surprise.
Then the one carrying the third knelt quickly, snapped, "Stay back, Florin!" and set down her burden. She started casting a spell while still on her knees.
The other one was casting a spell too, obviously intending to blast her double.
Florin's sword sang out as he broke into a trot, asking himself, What NOW?
Twenty
TO WAR
So it comes down to what it always does, when men swagger and dragons fly: red war, and much death, and a lot of things ruined and cast down broken. Little decided, much lost, many left to weep. Yet for the rest of us, it seems to entertain.
Amundreth, Sage of Secomber
Thoughts on the Folly of Kings
Year of the Highmantle
Halfway along the passage, Ondreth stopped still.
"By the Dragon Throne," he gasped, putting out a hand to Telarantra's arm, "what's that?"
His fellow duty-guard War Wizard followed his gaze down the longest passage in the sanctum to what was traversing a cross-passage in the distance and murmured in her usual deadpan manner, "Vangerdahast, the Lady Lord of Arabel, and a woman in the thrall of his magic, I'd say-how else would she end up floating along on her back in midair, with her eyes closed?"
"No, no," Ondreth said excitedly, "I saw her change, in the battle! That's the dragon that did us so much damage!"
"Is it indeed?" Telarantra asked softly.
The spell that clutched Ondreth Malkrivyn in an icy grip was as sudden as it was unexpected. It was draining his life-force before he could speak or even lift a hand.
The last thing he saw as the world dimmed for him was Telar-antra's triumphantly smiling face above him, as she gently lowered his withering body to the floor.
"Farewell, fool," she told him almost affectionately. "Know that the Rightful Conspiracy values your sacrifice. My next spell will break the stasis on yon song dragon-and we'll see how old Lord Windy Royal Magician fares in battle without the risen defenses of the sanctum ready in his hands."
She turned and did something, but Ondreth Malkrivyn was too dead to see it-or feel the mighty blast that followed. It hurled the husk of his body at the ceiling as the entire passage rocked, ceiling-tiles fell like rain, and the sanctum tried to leap upward and join the sky.
* * * * *
Though he stood like a statue, Rhauligan was inwardly almost dancing in impatience, but one did not interrupt the Dowager Queen of Cormyr in mid-word… not when the Steel Regent was by her side, glaring pointedly at impatient Harpers. Alusair even put an imperious finger to her lips as Filfaeril bade Laspeera answer.
"The evidence of Amnian and Sembian backing is now clear," the most senior War Wizard began, "and the nobles of this 'Rightful Conspiracy' grow ever bolder. We would have seen swords out openly long ago, I think, were it not for the wits of the wisest along them. One of our Highknights died to inform us of this much: An elaborate scheme is building, to slay all Obarskyrs in an orchestrated manner that will allow the conspirators to win control of the realm while avoiding both a ruinous ground war or-much-civil war after all of the Blood Royal have been eliminated, by also slaughtering all other blood claimants to the throne but one: their chosen, mind-controlled puppet. We're not sure just which of the Crownsilvers, Huntsilvers, or Truesilvers is their selected-and willing-dupe, but rest assured that-"
"We're doing all we can," Caladnei took over smoothly. "Of course." She sighed, spread