Shadows of Doom - Ed Greenwood [24]
"Gods," the man groaned, and drew a trembling breath. "I… hurt, Lord. I… I'll try to serve you, but I fear I can't"-he struggled for a moment and then fell back with a groan-"can't rise," he gasped, sweating.
Elminster laid a hand on his forehead. "Rest and lie still. Answer my questions; that is all ye need do."
When he brought his hand away again, Sharantyr saw that it glistened with the man's sweat. The Old Mage bent close to the man and asked, "This gate, Mulser. Where did ye come from?"
The man gasped for breath a moment and then said, "The-the High Dale. Lord, why do you not know this?"
"It appears," Elminster said in heavy, sinister tones, "that some among us have seen fit to act on their own, as it were. Word of these doings has only just reached my ears. I need you, Mulser, to tell me who of the Brotherhood is in the High Dale, and what exactly befalls there. Speak freely. I value honesty, not toadying words. Tell me, now, who is master in the dale?"
"H-Heladar Longspear, Lord."
"He is of us?"
"A Zhentilar like myself, Lord. He served in the taking of the Citadel, and in Daggerdale. He is hard, but a good blade."
"Which mages back him?"
"Angruin Stormcloak gives him his orders."
"Angruin Myrvult?" Elminster sounded surprised.
"Aye, Lord."
"He's come far. Where does he get his orders?" "Zhentil Keep itself, Lord." The man's breathing grew labored again, and he coughed weakly. When his voice came again, it was fainter. "I don't know who he reports to… not my right to know."
"How many wizards and apprentices are under Angruin?"
"Ahh-I can't think, Lord. Pardon, if you will… There's Hcarla; he's a bad one. I don't think even his mother ever trusted him. Then there's Sabryn, who was with us here. Is he-?"
"I'll deal with him later," Elminster said coldly. "Go on. These are the mages of power?"
"Those, and a quiet one called Nordryn." "Any others?"
"Four lesser. Two who rode to battle in Daggerdale: Mrinden and Kalassyn. They're all right, and can hurl fire or lightning if called on." "The last two?"
"Apprentices, sneaks and noses-in-the-air. Haragh and Ildomyl. They mostly do gate-guard duty on the roads." "And how many swords does Longspear command, loyal warriors like yourself?"
"I… know not, Lord. Forty, perhaps. Not many more. With perhaps a dozen hireswords, mainly crossbowmen… from Sembia." Mulser groaned again.
"Easy, Mulser," Elminster said, patting his shoulder gently. "Rest easy. Tell me, what does Longspear, as ruler of the High Dale, have you men do?"
"We… we take passage tolls, Lord. One copper a head, two coppers a horse or mule, and two silver falcons per wagon. No priests or wizards are allowed in. All who carry magic must yield it to us until they leave. All who enter must pay. We've already had to escort envoys from Sem-urrghh-Sembia and Cormyr, complaining about the tolls."
"Why don't merchants just go around you, using the road through Daerlun?"
"I've been told," Mulser said, cynical humor dryly audible through the rough pain in his voice, "that the brigands are particularly bad just now. They're… in the Vast Swamp, Lord, and hired by whoever in the Brotherhood has sponsored Stormcloak. The road is… too dangerous for passage without heavy escorts. No lone wagons get through."
Elminster chuckled coldly. "I see how the land rises and falls. How are the dalefolk taking your presence?"
"It's fairly quiet, Lord. They hold no love for us. They call us bladesmen the 'Wolves,' but they're mostly old men. Since Stormcloak made an example of the high constable, they've knuckled under." He coughed again and added weakly, "We had to kill the constables and their archers, of course, to take the place."
"And the wizards?" Elminster's voice was suddenly like a sword blade sheathed in ice.
"I-we found none, Lord, so far as I know. Only a couple of fat old priests. Longspear has them locked up in the High Castle."
Tour barracks is there?"
"N-no… aghhh… Sorry, Lord, my barracks is up north of the castle, near this gate… the other end