Elminster's Daughter - Ed Greenwood [90]
Then her arms were empty and she was staggering forward off-balance across a turret room that held no Elminster of Shad-owdale. Caladnei looked around wildly and beheld only the four guards, staring at her.
She gave them a rueful half-smile like a child caught doing something naughty, and the guards drew themselves to attention and saluted. The eldest said politely, "Lady Mage, we've been requested to inform you that the Lady Laspeera, the High-knight Rhauligan, and a captive await you in the Dragonwing Chamber."
Caladnei drew herself up, suddenly every inch the brisk Mage Royal they knew so well, and snapped, "I thank you." She smiled like a young lass again, bent over and drew off her right boot, and clasped the chain around her ankle.
"Looks good," a guard said gruffly-then turned as swift as any whiplash to face away from her, at stiff attention. His fellows sprang to join him in the maneuver, so when Caladnei straightened, she'd have no idea which one of them had spoken.
She grinned at all four armored backs, parted two of them with firm hands, and murmured, "Old lechers," as she strode between them and marched off down the hall.
The guards saluted her in silent unison and went back to guarding the open door.
* * * * *
Roablar of Lantan sat back and sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose where his glasses pinched-then rubbing the eyes behind them for good measure.
The everpresent hovering monk bent over the merchant. "Is there anything you're not finding, goodsir?"
"Ah," Thaerabho murmured, to the Keeper of that particular reading-room in Candlekeep. "It begins. Tis time for an unmasking."
Silent in his soft slippers, he started to move purposefully toward the seated Lantanna.
"You can see what I'm seeking," the disguised Lady Noumea Cardellith told her escort.
The tall, pockmarked monk ran a hand through his unruly, strawlike hair, bent closer, and replied in a low voice, "All you can about the Red Wizards of Thay, in particular recent writings. If you've come to Candlekeep in search of their spells, I fear you've wasted your journey. We keep those secure for very good reasons."
Without regarding them, Noumea was well aware that several monks were silently drawing in around her. She smiled thinly.
"No, Esmer. What would a merchant of Lantan want with spells? I live and die by trade, and 'tis this new policy of establishing Thayan trade enclaves and who in the Thayan hierarchy is behind it that I seek to learn all about."
"I realize this is overbold, and you must feel perfectly comfortable in refusing to answer," an unfamiliar monk murmured from her other side, "but why?"
Noumea looked up and gave him a smile.
"If we're being so blunt: I suspect this is but the first step in an elaborate plan to economically and then-covertly-politically dominate all realms of Faerun."
"Of course," two of the monks said together, and at least another three in the ring that had silently formed around her nodded.
"Wherefore my fascination with recent reports and writings," Noumea added, indicating the sheafs of parchment and stacked volumes on the slightly sloped reading-desk before her.
"I sense you're both well-traveled and worldly," a monk said from directly behind her. "Permit me, then, to mention something not to be found in these written records but only in the diaries we compile of the news and rumor that comes daily to our gates."
"Please do," Noumea said politely, shifting slightly and indicating the bench beside her. The monks smiled as if she'd passed some sort of test, and the monk who'd spoken from behind her stepped forward and sat down so close beside her that his robe almost brushed her hip. A white, puckered old sword-scar adorned one of his cheeks diagonally, and his hair was as gray as a sword in need of polishing.
"I'm Thaerabho," he said with a smile, "and my field is the doings of those who wield magic in Faerun outside temples and priesthoods. You've heard of the Chosen of Mystra?"
Noumea nodded