Elminster's Daughter - Ed Greenwood [133]
Alusair shook her head. "No. We attend. In person. I'm more than weary of perils unfolding in Cormyr behind my back or when I'm busy dealing with something else-I'm never going to cling to the title of Regent whilst sending others to sweat or die in my place. If the realm means anything to me, I must be there."
Filfaeril nodded. "Well said. All of your well-chosen words apply equally to me."
"Your Majesties," Rhauligan protested, "though my heart leaps to hear you speak so, is it wise for the realm to risk both of you in one place? Hazarding the loss of all Obarskyr wisdom and influence, should you-watching gods forfend-be stricken down together?"
He laid one hand on a vial at his belt, and asked, "Though I risk treason and my own death, dare I allow you to so endanger the realm while I have power left to prevent you?"
The Dowager Queen put a swift hand on Alusair's swordarm to forestall any word or action and smiled.
"Rhauligan, the loyalty and service of you and men who act and feel as you do is Cormyr's backbone and its splendor, not the surname shared by we two. Yet in truth my daughter and I are both now expendable so long as Azoun lives, is kept safe, and is guided and instructed well. You must trust us that he is."
She impulsively stepped forward and wrapped her regal arms around Rhauligan in a fierce hug.
As he blinked in astonishment, she snapped into his ear, "I, too, am sick unto death of standing watching when I could be-should be-doing! If Thundaerlyn Hall be a trap, so much the better! My Azoun would not have wanted me to sit idle as the passing days carry me ever closer to the grave… as he never did!"
Filfaeril thrust him away to stare into his eyes and added, "If it makes you feel better, Rhauligan, you may hide ready in Thundaerlyn and run to my rescue if needful-but you may not stand in front of me like a shield, or bundle me into some cloak-closet 'for my own good'! Do we understand each other?"
Rhauligan went to one knee, brought her fingertips to his lips, and said huskily, "Lady, we do."
* * * * *
"I said back, Florin!" the young lass snapped again, as the ranger charged forward, blade raised. Her fingers never slowed in their deft weaving-but mere paces away, her double ended the swifter casting of a spell with a flourish and a cry of triumph.
Reddish-purple light burst into being in that one's hands and raced forth in thin, arrow-straight beams from every one of her fingers, stabbing at the lass who'd warned Florin off… only to strike something unseen in front of her target, claw at that barrier, and rise skywards in a building, trembling wave.
Florin Falconhand decided it was prudent to obey that warning and sprang hastily away to the side and rear of the lass who'd hurled the spell-and who was now grimly pouring her will and perhaps other magics into it, drawing lips back from teeth in a soundless snarl and trembling to match the arcing fires of her spell.
A thin sheen of sweat sprang into being all over her as Florin watched. He took a step toward the lass who was hurling fire-and the other identical young lass repeated her warning, in a waspish, somehow familiar tone that made Florin's eyes narrow.
Could this be… Elminster?
His gaze went to the straining, warring magics overhead, where those fires were being thrust over and around, curling back toward their creator from above.
The sweating lass knew her danger and was already eyeing the roiling power above her. Abruptly she sprang aside with a curse, ending her flow of fire-but the overhanging doom followed her like a great gliding dragon as she scrambled… and suddenly fell from above with a crash that shook the meadow.
Florin was hurled from his feet as the ground heaved and the stricken, desperately shouting lass vanished from view in the flames. Her double, who'd sent this doom against her, stood still and firm.
Something confusing happened in the rolling, swirling inferno, and the lass engulfed in it was abruptly some twenty paces off, sobbing on the ground… still caught in fading, flickering coils of her own