Shadows of Doom - Ed Greenwood [110]
The speaking stone floated before him, silent for the space of two long breaths. Then the silken voice came again. Its words made Xanther glad that the stone's magic carried only voices, and that he could neither see nor be seen by the leader of the Zhentarim.
"Tell me, Xanther Srildar," Manshoon's voice asked him, "why-hearing that as you did-you did not attack them both at once?"
"I-was far away, Lord," Xanther said, swallowing, "using the wand you gave me. By one of its eyes I followed them across half the castle fall of men fighting."
The spindle floating at the height of his head hung silently.
Emboldened, Xanther added, "Had I been there, Lord, I doubt Elminster would have spoken so plainly."
"You've done well, Xanther," the smooth voice came again. "The Brotherhood is pleased with you, despite the disaster in the High Dale. Hear now my orders. Do whatever you can, and enlist whomever you feel necessary, to destroy Elminster of Shadowdale. Bring evidence of his death to me if you can-but whatever befalls and by any means, you must bring about his death. Your reward will be very great."
* * * * *
The silently listening figure that neither Manshoon nor Xanther knew was there decided it was time to withdraw before being discovered, with a chance to earn a reward instead of the cold, deadly weight of Manshoon's disfavor.
Hcarla Bellwind drew his robe more tightly about himself and hastened to a dark and winding stair he knew of. It descended directly to the part of the cellars where a certain noisome cavern held the cesspool.
* * * * *
Bellwind was in too much of a hurry to close the secret door to Xanther's little room, once a private treasury vault, no doubt, and discovered by the Brotherhood long ago. The councillor, hurrying along soon after, felt cold fingers of fear touch his spine as he stared at the open door. Who had found his secret place and listened?
Who knew Manshoon's orders and the truth about Elminster of Shadowdale; who was lurking somewhere near in the castle right now?
Xanther tried to look about in all directions and discovered, as others have before him, that it's not easy… and that finding no immediate danger brings no comfort.
* * * * *
The hurrying Hcarla had no time for fear as his hastening feet descended stairs cold, dark, and worn smooth with age. Others might sneer, as Stormcloak had, at the Old Mage's feeble powers and strange behavior, but Elminster had caused Manshoon himself to flee a fight at least twice. No, Hcarla Bellwind would not begrudge the power he could gain from Elminster.
Not begrudge, but not fear either. If he could take the Old Mage unawares, he could cast his most precious magic: a stealspell. It would draw the most powerful spell out of the Old Mage's mind into his own, for Hcarla to wield. If that mind was empty of magic, the Old Mage's magic was truly gone and he could never hope to stand against the other spells Hcarla carried.
On the way through the cellars, a thought struck Hcarla. He paused in a room where glowing mold had been left to grow undisturbed to cast its eerie light over a workbench. He took down a hatchet from where it hung over the bench and caught up a moldering old sack from a pile nearby.
With the Old Mage's head in a sack, Hcarla could steal away to ask questions of it at leisure, using his own adaptation of the spell that Brotherhood priests used to speak with the dead. With Elminster's lore-directions to his spellbooks and hidden magical items would be enough- Hcarla Bellwind could forget about Manshoon's favor or disfavor and think instead about replacing him to command the Brotherhood himself. Aye, now there was a thought.