Shadows of Doom - Ed Greenwood [50]
And last, Thammar. The wine merchant was the only witty, friendly, serenely apolitical councillor, interested only in getting good wine into the dale for all and in lining his pockets liberally along the way. Hmmm… retired from Sembia. Gods spit! Saddusk could be a Sembian spy, or worse. With his contacts, he could be an agent for fabled Kara-Tur or someplace even farther afield. Often it's the friendliest one, the one you least suspect, who has the dagger waiting… and Thammar did wear a sword rather too casually for a soft, nearly retired Sembian merchant.
Oh, to the grave with all this pondering! Any one of them, or all of them, could well be behind this. Or it might be simply the work of a wizard gone off his head, with his daughter, apprentice, or pleasure-maid keeping him company.
Heladar realized with a sudden chill that, in the end, it didn't really matter. If Longspear was to rule in the High Dale more than a winter longer, he must assume all of them were in league against him and waiting for a chance to bring him down. If he didn't-well, one of them at least would try.
And if he was able or lucky enough to survive that attempt, the idea would be in their heads. One of the others would decide that the title of Lord of the High Dale sounded grand enough and-situated on the trade road between Cormyr and Sembia, while Zhent-backed brigands kept the Daerlun road dangerous and expensive- profitable enough to make a grab for it.
Even the best blade can grow dull, if it has to lop off too many reaching fingers.
* * * * *
Heladar's continuing silence had led Stormcloak on to bolder speech. Warmed by the heat of his own wagging tongue, the wizard had even begun to speak as if the High Dale's men-at-arms obeyed him and-the traditional failing of mages-as if the council would agree to his every whim because no intelligent being could help but see things as he did. Heladar just smiled and went on being silent.
Angruin was in the midst of exhorting his fellow councillors to stir their children, their neighbors, their neighbor's children, and any cats and dogs within reach to take up arms and scour every inch of the dale for these intruders, to slay them, capture them, or drive them out. The dale must be cleansed!
Ye gods, he sounds like one of the priests. Heladar turned his gaze again around the table. Of course the mages want every blade out and every child alert. The more who fight, the more they can hide behind, hurling spells from a safe distance.
This could be a real challenge, to the Zhentarim as well as to the lordship of Heladar Longspear. Cormyr could be lurking behind the attacks, or Sembia, or even powerful loners like the fabled Gondegal, Elminster of Shadowdale, or the willful, wandering Witch-Queen of Aglarond who flew endlessly about Faerun in the shape of a black falcon, meddling. The only thing to do was to muster the entire armed might of the dale to track down the intruders, backed by all the magic the wizards could mount. Manshoon would order that if Heladar didn't.
There was something else, though. Even before these attacks, the wizards had been tense and troubled. Had this entire episode been prearranged by someone in Zhentil Keep, part of some deep plan to cast aside Long-spear and change the rule of the High Dale again?
Nay. That would not worry the mages so collectively and deeply. They'd looked like lost men, especially the lesser ones. At the time, he'd assumed that Zhentil Keep had given them harsh and unsettling orders not for his ears. Now, though… Nordryn had been upset by the news about his friend, but now his face showed not so much shock and grief as it did fear for his own skin, and a sort of helplessness. He stared down at his open hands for a moment as if not believing that they could ever cast