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By Root 795 0

is now doing exactly what I bade him to. He is attempting, in his own way, admittedly less direct than it could be, to tell you a plain truth. Lady Laspeera, you we know and accept, though some among us mistrust a secretive woman-and a commoner, at that-holding so much power. You have demonstrated your loyalty to the Crown time and time again. You we would accept as Mage Royal, but not another mysterious woman-another commoner worming her way into office over us-not this motherless Caladnei. I but seek to warn you of the general mood. King Azoun is gone, lady, and our tolerance for the excesses of those he's left behind wanes-it does indeed. We won't take much more of this." "King Azoun the fifth is alive and well, I assure you," she replied. "And who, my most gracious Lord of Helm-stone, is 'we'?"

Laspeera's voice was a razor-sharp dagger of ice, but the elder Lord Helmstone did not flinch. A scuffling sound behind Laspeera told her that his son had, but her shield was still up around her. If sudden ambition-or "patriotism"-should move him to fell a hated war wizard to in some small way cleanse the realm, her back was not unprotected.

"The heads of most of the noble houses of Cormyr, Lady Laspeera," Helmstone said quietly. "The flower of the realm. The swords and coins upon whose support the Dragon Throne stands-or falls."

"And if I was to loudly denounce this treason, Lord?" "Lady, as King Azoun-the fourth-himself said to us all, 'tis not treason to seek what is best for the kingdom." Helmstone regarded her gravely, and murmured in tones that barely reached her ears. "You should now be Mage Royal, Lady-not some uplands upstart."

"Do you know so clearly, my lord, what's best for Cormyr?" Laspeera asked him softly, her voice still icy. "Better than does the wizard Vangerdahast, perchance?"

Helmstone shook his head. "I have no love for the old wizard, Lady, but with him at least I knew what I was mistrusting." He drew back, and waved his hand in a gesture that was clearly a signal to his son to depart, swiftly and upon the instant. "I see our time here is wasted. You too must be mind-mazed by the spells of the new witch."

Laspeera shook her head, almost as amazed as she was pretending to be. "Do you misunderstand what wizards do that much?"

Helmstone's response, as he drew aside a hanging to step through a door he should not have known was there, was a growl of menace.

"Our beloved Forest Kingdom is falling on dark days, indeed," he said, "if the last withered branches of the decadent Obarskyrs are now cozened by scheming witches. Steps must be taken."

A startled servant stood blinking in the revealed doorway, a tray of decanters in her hands. With a snarl of anger the noble let the hanging fall right in her face, whirled, and strode past Laspeera, back down the passage in his son's footsteps.

Timidly the hanging was lifted aside. Laspeera gave the servant a wordless, "I don't know about these nobles, either," shrug and swept on in search of the Steel Regent. The short route to where Alusair would be seemed to have grown very long.

Passing a certain doorway, she gave the face regarding her from its shadowed depths a discreet nod and strode on without speaking.

Out of that way, in the senior war wizard's wake, stepped a man whose answering nod was even more subtle. Glarasteer Rhauligan, dealer in turret tops and spires, strolled nonchalantly after the storming noble, humming a popular song of the streets as he went.

Far down the corridor, Laspeera stiffened as she recognized it-and, slowly and ruefully, let a real smile touch her lips. The name of that tune was Wizards, Kings, and Doom, We All Rush to Seek the Tomb. Indeed.

* * * * *

The noble faces staring down into the pit were pale and sweating. It's one tiling to sneer at terror-tales heard in youth, deeming them sheer lies spun by the weak-minded. It's quite another to see them come to life and writhing in pain below you-wounded, yes, but so large and mighty in magic and so terrifyingly near.

Netheriloursonce. Heed, humans. Greatevil returned shadows shadowmen