Son of Thunder - Murray J. D. Leeder [7]
"What kind of changes?" Geildarr asked, taking a step back.
"The same changes that are sweeping the Zhentarim. Bane is back. Would you like to see the Dark Sun replaced by the Black Hand?"
Geildarr shook his head grimly; he understood exactly what Moritz meant. The Dark Sun was both a title for Cyric, and the name of the god's temple in Llorkh. But Cyricists like Geildarr were growing unpopular within the Zhentarim as Fzoul-Bane's Chosen, and his mightiest priest-solidified power. This was a factor in Sememmon's flight from Darkhold.
"All this you know," Moritz went on, "but what you may not know is this: rumor has it that Mythkar Leng has already cut a secret deal with Fzoul to take your place as mayor of Llorkh."
"Leng!" protested Geildarr. The high priest of the Dark Sun had long been Geildarr's conduit to the Zhentarim leadership, charged with keeping him informed of directives from Zhentil Keep. Though Geildarr was officially a member of the Zhentarim, he was largely content to function as mayor of Llorkh, letting Leng handle the Network's day-to-day operations in the region. Leng would keep him advised on the Zhentarim's ever-shifting agenda, and Geildarr would try to react accordingly. "Why would they let Leng be mayor?" Geildarr demanded. "He's a Cyricist too!"
"Is he?" asked Moritz. "Cyric is Lord of Illusion-who would know better than I?-and Prince of Lies as well. Perhaps Leng learned the art of deception so well that he can fool his own god. It has been done before, after all. Leng was a priest of Bane before the Godswar, as you'll remember, and old habits tend to stick. But as I said, I know this only as a rumor. Something for you to investigate. If you wish to keep your job, I suggest taking it up with Leng.
"On the other hand," Moritz chuckled, "if you wish to keep your life, Sememmon offers his protection. Either way, he extends a message to you. I believe it was, 'Try to keep this town of mine in one piece.'"
"Llorkh?" asked Geildarr. "Sememmon's?"
"As much as it is yours, truly," Moritz said. "I'd wager you harbor fantasies of Llorkh passing from the Zhentarim as your private fiefdom. It's good to have dreams. The difference between you and Sememmon is his dreams have a chance of coming true."
"If you believe Sememmon has a prayer of wresting anything from Fzoul and his pet clone," Geildarr said, "then it's clear that all this toying with illusion has finally estranged you from reality. Bound to happen, really."
The gnome frowned. "You have no idea what kind of power Sememmon hoards. But know this-" Moritz aimed his cane upward at Geildarr's face "-Sememmon's patience is finite. His offer will be made only so many times, and you may find his friendship withdrawn just when you need it most."
"Then let your master show up here in person for once," Geildarr said. "Maybe I'll catch him in a bottle and hand him over to Fzoul as a present. I wager that would help preserve my rule in Llorkh."
Moritz cackled, bending over with laughter at this thought.
"And I'm the delusional one? Hear it and know it true, Geildarr-you may have some fun toying around with magical objects, but you are not the wizard Sememmon is."
And at that, he vanished from the spot, leaving Geildarr to his spinning head.
* * * * *
Thluna found Sungar just where he expected-standing on the outer ring of Morgur's Mound at the freshest cairn. The rest of the tribe was encamped just outside the Crags; it was forbidden among the Uthgardt to make camp at any ancestor mound, though the decadent Black Lion tribe had violated that rule by settling near Beorunna's Well. Thluna slowly stepped up to his chief and joined him in reverence of the dead.
In the last two years, young Thluna, son of Hagraavan, had become closer to Sungar than any other Uthgardt. Thluna had wed Sungar's daughter Alaa, and now stood to succeed him as chieftain, though such lines of succession were not always clearly drawn. Sungar and Thluna were among the few who had survived the shame and devastation brought down upon