Elminster's Daughter - Ed Greenwood [79]
"I wanted nothing of the kind and still do not," the former Royal Magician growled. "But-but what's he up to, in there?"
"Enspelling Myrmeen and her weapons, if he's thinking anything like I am," Caladnei replied tartly. "You'll have to do a lot to win back our trust, old man."
"Lass, lass," Elminster chided from behind her. "I'm going to have to take ye away forthwith before ye can find anything else cold and hurtful to say to the man who did ye such honor by choosing ye."
Caladnei whirled around, but a grinning Elminster laid a hand on her arm before she could say a word-and, just like that, there was suddenly one less Mage Royal of Cormyr and one less Chosen of Mystra in the littered kitchen.
Across suddenly empty space, Vangerdahast and Myrmeen stood gazing at each other.
Coldly he looked her up and down, from her drawn sword to her patched and battered leathers, and a slow sneer crawled across his face.
Myrmeen surveyed him from head to toe with raised eyebrows, shook her head, gave Vangerdahast a derisive grin, and strode right past him.
"Don't touch anything," the wizard snarled, whirling around to see where she went and what she did.
Which was three paces away, to stand with hands on hips and slowly turn to witheringly survey the state of his kitchen.
Swiveling slowly around to face him, the Lady Lord of Arabel wrinkled her nose. "Is this what you've been eating? No wonder your wits are so addled!"
Twelve
DRAGONFIRE
Come storms, great waves, earth-cleaving, god-smiting lightnings, and dragonflre, Faerun shall abide. Us smaller creatures on it? I'm not so sure.
The character Blind Nars
in Scene the Second
of the play Four Bloody Swords
by Corsour Hamadder of Waterdeep
first performed in the Year of the Nightmaidens
The torches were guttering out now, one by one, leaving the great soaring hall of Haelithtorntowers noticeably darker. Two long-frozen figures in leather moved in sudden unison, both drawing back cautiously from the balcony rail-and lifting their heads to regard each other.
Narnra Shalace did not give her pursuer her usual angry glare.
Like Rhauligan, she knew unfolding treason and disaster when she heard it. This was the sort of softly menacing talk she was sure went on inside the spires of the wealthy and nobility of Waterdeep all the time-though she'd never been foolish enough to try to enter and lurk in such places, with their alarm-magics, wardings, and enthusiastic guards.
No wonder nobles didn't want anyone close enough to hear what they were saying. Caethur the moneylender would have had to double-deal for years to reach the point of openly plotting ambitions like these.
She stared almost thoughtfully across the ring of emptiness at Rhauligan, knowing that she'd just gained one more reason to elude the Harper without being seen by others in this house. A very good reason.
Keeping herself alive at least a few nights longer.
* * * * *
It was a bright and breezy morning in Candlekeep. The sea-breeze blowing ashore could better have been called a strong wind. In front of the Lady Noumea Cardellith, as she walked the last stretch of the Way of the Lion, the banners of a minor noble of Tethyr flapped and streamed in a constant fury. The rearguard of that personage-six riders in gleaming armor who rode with great spiked long-axes gripped in their gauntlets- were eyeing Noumea narrowly, at least two of them always crossing to opposing sides of the noble party so as to keep full watch on her.
And no wonder. Through the wonders of magic Noumea may have looked like a lone, bespectacled male merchant from Lantan, afoot and bearing only a leather carrysack slung over one shoulder-but she'd arrived out of nowhere, just suddenly there, in mid-step. And Tethyrian house guards who hadn't seen teleport spells in use before had certainly heard