Hand of Fire - Ed Greenwood [2]
Shandril hated him on sight. Tessaril Winter was standing at his side, a drawn sword in her hand, its slender blade glowing with awakened magic.
"Traitor!" Shandril spat at her, pointing with a finger that flamed with spellfire. The palm of her other hand filled with searing flames, ready to hurl, as she turned to the wizard and snarled, "Mutter one word of a spell – just one – and I'll blast you to ashes, whoever you are!"
The old wizard nodded very slightly and said nothing. The Lady Lord of Eveningstar shook her head sadly. "Did I not tell you I'd never betray you, Shan? I meant it. I always mean what I say."
"How can I trust that, when one spell from him and we could be dead?" Shandril growled, wrestling her fury down so no more of the room around would be burned.
Narm had kicked the smoldering furs onto bare flagstones and now crouched uneasily beside the bed, naked and too far from his clothes to even snatch up his belt-knife – but very much wanting to.
Shan let herself sink down until her bare feet were planted on the bed once more, spellfire still raging ready around her hands. Narm hastily scrambled up to stand beside her, raising his own hands to cast – he frowned – whatever paltry magic might be most useful.
"Be easy, both of you," the wizard grunted. "I've not come to do you harm. We've spoken before – when the King gave you his royal blessing, remember? I'm Vangerdahast, Court Wizard and Royal Magician of Cormyr, and a chamber-load of other titles besides… and I'd like to see the pair of you safely out of Cormyr before you turn into another problem for me. I collect problems and find I have more than enough on my hands just now without the little lass some amused god gave spellfire to – and an overswift temper, it seems."
"Oh?" Narm asked, his tone half a challenge and half-curious. "So why creep in here? And, Lady Lord, why the ready steel and risen magic on it?"
Tessaril shrugged. "We had an… interesting journey hither through the Hidden House. Things dwell here that, ah, respond to the Royal Magician's presence."
Vangerdahast grunted wordless agreement to the Lady Lord's words and strode around the bed toward Shandril, clasping his hands behind his back and peering at the two naked folk standing on the tangled bed like a slaver surveying wares he's thinking of buying.
"So you're here to -?" Shandril asked sharply, crouching to point both her hands at his face like loaded crossbows, her spellfire flaring warningly.
"Cast a magical disguise on you both," he replied, ignoring the menacing flames dancing not all that far from his nose. Calmly he gazed past them, studying Narm until the young mage blushed.
Vangerdahast promptly waved at Narm in an imperious "turn around" gesture and nodded when the young mage hesitantly complied. "No personal marks or brands or the like. Good. Now you, lass."
Shandril gave him an angry look. "Must every wizard I meet gloat over my bare flesh?"
"No," Vangerdahast replied – a little wearily, Shan thought. "Just the ones who have to see the body they're trying to disguise, to weave a good spell and not merely a swift and easy one. And this lucky lad of yours, too, I suppose. Gods above, girl, how many unclad women d'you think I've seen, in all the years of serving the king?"
"Ah," Narm said, eager to find something to say that wasn't cold word-dueling or menace, "so all the tales are true!"
"Those tales and a lot more besides," Vangerdahast told him gravely, "but if it keeps the Dragon of Cormyr from being a tyrant to the good folk of his kingdom and away from his war-saddle and all the graves that follow in the wake of such ridings, he can craft a dozen new tales every night with my full blessing!"
He came back around the bed to look at Narm directly "You'll learn, lad, to count lives wasted and stalking fear