Son of Thunder - Murray J. D. Leeder [6]
"I can tell you what it says," came a voice from behind him. Geildarr spun to face the corner of the room and a tall man standing there in long, blue and purple robes, clutching a staff with a bat at its top. The wizard wore a smirk that showed just how pleased he was to have caught Geildarr by surprise. But Geildarr held his reaction in check and sized up the intruder with an aloof eye instead.
"I wonder," Geildarr mused, his voice slightly slurred from his earlier drinking, "am I drunker than I think, or is this Sememmon I'm seeing?"
"Is that all you have to say?" the raven-haired wizard asked. "There was a time when you would fall on your knees at my very presence."
"But I am not addressing Sememmon," answered Geildarr, "am I?" He began to gesture a spell of dispel, but Sememmon extended his hand.
"No need," he said. "Let's drop the masks." The form of the imperious wizard melted all around him, leaving a body half its height. A red tricorn hat topped a plump-cheeked gnome face. The figure wore robes of rich crimson-a small parody of nobility. The gnome clutched a thin blackwood cane at his side, and a mad, merry nature twinkled in his green eyes.
"What brings you here, Moritz the Mole? Do you need somewhere to sleep or something?" This wasn't the first time this peculiar emissary of the wizard Sememmon had dropped in on Geildarr unannounced since Sememmon had fled from the Zhentarim's prime western stronghold of Darkhold.
In the intervening years, Sememmon and his elf ladylove Ashemmi had scarcely been seen by anyone. Last he heard they were living in seclusion and traveling Faerun, collecting magic and cementing allies for some endeavor as yet unrevealed.
Geildarr knew them both well from his own trips to Darkhold over the years, but never really came to understand them. Ashemmi was a heart-stopping beauty with flaxen hair and almond-shaped eyes. How had an elf woman ended up in the Zhentarim? He had heard she had been corrupted to evil by magical means. Geildarr couldn't even guess at the truth of this. What was clear to him, though, was that Sememmon and Ashemmi were utterly devoted to each other. Even such dark-hearted creatures as this pair were bound together by love. Geildarr yearned to trust another so completely.
Moritz laughed heartily in typically gnomish fashion. "I always enjoy visiting you because of that tongue of yours. You really ought to welcome my presence, for I come with a warning. Fzoul blames you for your failed incursion into the Fallen Lands."
"My failed incursion," Geildarr snorted. The plan had been Fzoul's order. "Doomed to failure. I minimized the damage. And now he thinks to make me his sacrificial animal."
"Fzoul courts dangerous enemies," Moritz said. "The might of Shade has Elminster shaking in his tower. But then again, you've served Fzoul well. Under your mayoralty, Llorkh has been one of the most trouble-free places under Zhentarim control. Most likely he'll keep you around a bit longer." Moritz took a step closer to Geildarr. "But let me ask. Have you ever considered working for another power?"
"Does Sememmon's customary offer follow? Am I to cast my lot against Fzoul? Hide in the dark like Sememmon?"
"I suspect it's this town you love, Geildarr," said Moritz. "You love being mayor, having that control. Llorkh is an inglorious post, but you love it all the same. I can respect that. You don't care too much for the Zhentarim any longer. That's why you refuse to sponsor that little girl Ardeth for membership. Or do you have other reasons for keeping her close to you?"
Geildarr's head swirled from the drink, and he was tired of playing games.
"Why have you come here, Moritz?" he asked testily.
"I may just be the truest friend you have, Geildarr. I've come here to tell you something. Fzoul wants a few changes in Llorkh. You can work with them, or end up like your predecessor Redblade." He extended his blackwood cane and used