Shadows of Doom - Ed Greenwood [112]
* * * * *
In a chamber dark and warm, where soft limbs caressed his own in the flickering torchlight, Manshoon watched his favorite scrying crystal burst apart in the blue-white flame of Hcarla Bellwind's destruction. As the ladies in the wide bed around him shrieked and scrambled away, he sat up and hissed, "I'll have your head at last, Elminster!" His hand moved to the silken tassel of the bell cord to summon mages. Many mages.
"Dread Lord?" the best of his companions asked, standing uncertainly beside the bed. "Shall I summon the"-her voice faltered and dropped almost to a whisper- "beholders?"
Manshoon turned eyes that were very cold and dark on her. "You share my opinion of our current magelings, then? You expect them all to fail?"
Anaithe looked back at him with the eyes of a trapped animal, licked her lips, and managed to say, "Yes."
"Perhaps they'd do better," the High Lord of Zhentil Keep said in silken tones, "if you accompanied them in their search for Elminster. One who's seen so much she's not supposed to must have keen eyes indeed."
Anaithe trembled, bit her lip, and brought her hands deliberately down to her sides, recovering her poise with an effort. "I shall do whatever my lord desires… though I cannot see how I, without any magic, can be of any help in destroying an archmage."
Manshoon smiled suddenly. "As always, your spirit pleases me. You may live."
Anaithe's skin paled to the hue of old bone, all over. "My thanks, Great Lord," she said softly, and bowed Manshoon heard the thread of sarcasm she couldn't quite keep from her voice, and his smile broadened. Perhaps he should teach this one magic-after she'd been humbled by a whipping.
* * * * *
Sharantyr spoke first, while their ears were still ringing. "What's this all over me?" she asked grimly.
"Droplets of ambitious Zhentarim mage, no doubt," Elminster replied wryly. "Are ye all right?"
"I-think so. I can't tell, in the dark." The lady ranger sounded angry. "Look… that was a blast, Old Mage, and the air around us didn't flame up to join it. So let us have light."
Elminster nodded, and an instant later remembered to speak. "Aye, lass, but one problem occurs to me."
"And it is-?"
"In this darkness, we'll be hard put to it to find a torch."
Sharantyr said something very rude and unladylike that made Elminster sigh and shake his head. And then, down the passage from which the attack had come, they saw the bobbing light of many torches.
"Say nothing of the gate," Elminster muttered hastily. "We'll seek it later."
The sputtering torches were coming fast. A few breaths later, the two men in leathers who'd slain Longspear in the marketplace burst into the room, blades drawn and trailing a handful of armed, bloody men. "Elminster?" one of them asked, holding his torch high.
"Aye, ye've found him." Elminster moved to stand beside Sharantyr's drawn, ready blade. "Who be ye?"
"Itharr," said Itharr simply.
"Belkram," Belkram added. "Storm sent us."
"So I need nursemaids now, do I?" Elminster grunted, and waved a hand. "Well met, and thanks for thy blade work outside the walls. Ye have my favor. Go and see if Mulmar needs ye for something."
Itharr and Belkram looked at each other, shrugged, and grinned. They were four strides back up the passage they'd come from when they heard Elminster chuckle.
They halted and turned. "We were asked to bring you with us," Itharr said rather hesitantly.
"By whom?" Elminster asked with an air of offended dignity.
"Irreph Mulmar, high constable of the High Dale."
"Oh." Elminster smoothed his beard with long fingers. "Well… let's go, then."
They went, climbing a long and winding way through empty passages, hearing excited voices echoing from here and there as they ascended through the castle, until they reached the great hall.
Irreph Mulmar sat on the high seat there, in fine clothes and with the chains struck off his limbs. Men and women of the dale stood around him with weapons in their