Realms of Infamy - James Lowder [1]
"It is not wise," the eye tyrant said silkily, "to threaten 'my kind.'"
Manshoon stared into the beholder's many eyes and replied steadily, "I am too useful for you to slay-and too wise to attempt an attack upon you." He nodded at his sprawled servant. "This man acted of his own accord to protect me. Foolhardy, yet he is as useful to me as I am to you. I trust he has not been harmed."
"Not overmuch." The beholder drew nearer, its many eyes yellow with displeasure. "When next you speak in council, we shall be there. Yet know this, Lordling: unless you and your minions take greater care, a day of harm may soon come to you all."
* * * * *
"Unless we take great care," Lord Chess said in an inner room of another tower not far from Manshoon's home, "a day of harm may soon come to us all."
The other nobles at his table shifted in their seats. Most of the city's young noblemen were present. Some hid nervousness by taking flamboyant sips of the Mulhorandan lion-wine in their goblets. Others assumed superior smiles and settled into even more indolent poses in their great, finely carved chairs.
"We do not fear upstart mages," one said with a practiced sneer. "Our sires and our grandsires smashed such foes. Why should we quail? The least of our guards can destroy these Zhentarim."
"Aye," another rumbled amid murmurs of agreement. "Let the graybeards in council yap and snap all the day long! I see naught to threaten Zhentil Keep or to prevent our coins piling up. The council responds whenever those dolts in Mulmaster dare another challenge, or a Thayan wizard deludes himself into thinking he's mighty enough to rule us. On most days, the council simply keeps our fathers and the rest of the dotards busy-and keeps their noses out of our affairs!"
"And just how many affairs have you had, Thaerun?" one noble asked slyly.
"Aye, this tenday?" someone added through the general mirth.
Chess frowned. "Have you no care for the snakes in our midst? Agents of Thay, of the Dragon Cult-even of Sembia and Calimshan-are unmasked every month! Their dagger points are always closer than you credit."
"Ah," Thaerun said, leaning forward to tap the table in triumphant emphasis. "That's the point, Chess. They are unmasked-by the watchful wizards Manshoon commands, and by Fzoul's tame priests. That's why we tolerate these haughty longrobes in the first place! They watch our backs so we can get on with the business of getting rich!"
"And wenching," someone murmured.
"Drinking," another added. "What is this chamberpot-spill, anyway, Chess?"
"The finest Mulhorandan vintage," Chess said dryly. "Not that you'd recognize it, Naerh."
Naerh spat on the table. "That for your pretensions! My family's as old as yours!"
"And as debauched," Thaerun murmured.
Chess smiled thinly. "You do well to enjoy your ease while you can, Lords. 'Tis a precious luxury, lost if just one of our foes decides to make war on us."
Thaerun leaned forward again, his eyes cold. "I do enjoy it… and I shall. Every luxury has its price-but our ease costs us only the blood of a few fool altar-kneelers and hireswords from time to time. That's a fee I'll pay willingly. Save your veiled threats. The Blackryn name is a proud one-and one I'm always ready to defend." Twinkling points of light burst forth around his hand. They coalesced into an ornate scepter whose tip pulsed and glowed.
A noble sighed. "Oh, put it away, Thaerun! You're always trying to prove how battle-bold you are, and showing instead your utter lack of subtlety. We've all got one or more of those! You think yourself the only one in Zhentil Keep with wits enough to carry magic, when we must all hang our blades by the door at feasts?"
Another noble scratched the untidy beginnings of a beard and added, "Aye, and if you ever use it, Blackryn, 'tis the blood of one of us that'll spill. Then the bloodfeuds'll begin again. That is too high a price for the liking of the council. They'd