Elminster's Daughter - Ed Greenwood [86]
"With me, as it happens," the woman said gently but firmly. "I believe we've seen each other recently. I'm Laspeera of the War Wizards."
Narnra glared at her, or tried to. War Wizards again, she thought, and I can't even move my mouth to ask, or protest, or…
Laspeera cast a smiling glance at the Harper. "I'd like to hear what's so urgent that the smooth and urbane Glarasteer Rhauligan races across Marsember like an overeager dog, toting smart-tongued street thieves."
"So you shall," Rhauligan replied and began to pant rapidly, his tongue hanging out.
Laspeera gave him a look. "What's got into you?"
"Revealing my innermost overeager dog, Lady Mage," he replied brightly.
Laspeera sighed, waved one graceful hand, and murmured, "Get on with it, faithful hound. I grow no younger."
* * * * *
Lord Vangerdahast of Cormyr leaned back contentedly from the table. His stomach promptly rumbled, sounding every bit as contented as he was.
The plate on the table in front of him was empty of all but a few smears of sauce, though it had been heaped high with rabbit stew not so very long ago. Good sauce, that…
The former Royal Magician of the Realm reached for the plate, leaning forward with tongue extended to lick it clean-but a grinning Myrmeen Lhal reached in under his arm with the speed of a striking adder and plucked the plate away. Vangey's fingertips thumped down on bare tabletop, leaving him blinking… then turning with a growl.
"You can thank me whenever you remember your manners," the Lady Lord of Arabel said impishly, heading for the washbasins beside the sink.
Vangerdahast scowled at her, which caused her to lift an eyebrow reprovingly at him, over her shoulder.
Under the force of her disapproving gaze he sighed, waved his fingers as if to banish what he'd just done, and muttered, "Have my thanks, Myrmeen Lhal. You… surprise me. I thought you were merely the best of Alusair's mud-spattered, eager she-blades, determined to outfight and outsnap any man."
"Oh my, and here I thought you were just a manipulative wizard driven by whimsy, a hunger for power, and a love of being mysterious and rude to everyone in sight," Myrmeen replied merrily, hurling herself into Vangerdahast's favorite lounge chair.
She bounced once amid its overstuffed, highbacked, and rather shabby comfort-and bent to sniff, frowning in appraisal. Then she shot him a scowl of her own. "Don't you ever wash things? Gods' grief, man! The lice are leaping all over me!"
She sprang up, growling in irritation, and clawed at buckles and straps, rapidly shucking armor in all directions.
It was Vangerdahast's turn to rise hastily. "Now don't you start throwing your skin at me! I knew-"
"You hoped," Myrmeen replied witheringly, bared to the waist with a bundle of leather and chain and armor plate in her hands. Her dangling suspenders, Vangey noticed with some surprise, looked very much like his own.
"Now," she asked briskly, "where do you bathe? You do bathe, don't you?"
"Huh-hahem. Ah, down that passage," he said, pointing. "There's a pool. The, uh, stars above it are a spell that mirrors the real sky, not a hole in the ceiling. The, ah, floating wooden duck is mine. I-"
Myrmeen strode forward, shifting her bundle against her bosom to free one hand-and used it to grab her host by one elbow. "Come," she ordered, starting to march him along.
"What? What're you-?"
"My hair was filthy this morning, and 'tis worse now. You can help me wash it."
"I don't-"
"Oh, yes, you do. Yours has been washed sometime this month, I'm sure of it. Come."
She half-led, half-propelled the feebly-protesting wizard down the passage.
Scarlet with embarrassment and breathless in his enforced haste, Vangerdahast vowed he would get his revenge on this ogre of a she-swordcaptain-and it would be a revenge that would last a long, long time and leave her begging for mercy.
* * * * *
The Harbortower turret was always cold and drafty, even at the muggy height of the warmest-and