Song of the Saurials - Kate Novak [29]
"She seems very sensible," Alias said, but she couldn't keep from adding, "Do you think she's right that this Grypht is a duke from the Nine Hells?"
Mourngrym shrugged. "I really don't know. You heard what she said about its working for the Zhentarim. Whatever Grypht is, the Zhentarim would certainly like to get their hands on Elminster. Still, I can't imagine that Elminster is in any real danger. He has an evasion spell to take him to safety if his life is ever seriously threatened."
"But Nameless doesn't have such a spell," Alias said. "The Zhentarim could be holding him to force Elminster to stay with them. Nameless and Elminster were once close friends. Elminster wouldn't abandon him. Suppose the Zhentarim heard some rumor about me and decided to try to coerce Nameless into creating another creature like me so they could use it as an agent? They might try to force Elminster to help him."
Mourngrym's face clouded over with concern. Alias's theory was too sensible to be discounted. "Why don't you pay a visit to the sage's scribe? If anyone knows anything about Elminster, it would be Lhaeo. In the meantime, I'll try to find some spell-casters who could scry for Nameless and Elminster."
*****
Immediately after Alias and Mourngrym left Nameless's former cell, Kyre crept to the doorway and listened for a few moments as the swordswoman and the lord of Shadowdale moved away down the hall. When their footsteps and voices had faded into the distance, Kyre whispered a chant to hold the door closed so that nothing would interrupt her talk with the Turmishman. With Elminster gone and Akabar indisposed, it would take Mourngrym some time to scare up a mage capable of forcing the door. By then she would be gone and Akabar would be gone with her.
The half-elf crossed back to the bed and sat down beside Akabar. The Turmishman rolled his head and shook, as if he were in the midst of a bad dream. It must seem to him as if he were, Kyre realized. She had stunned him with a power word right in front of the lord of Shadowdale and the swordswoman, but since Kyre had spoken the word in Turmish, neither Mourngrym nor Alias had the slightest suspicion that the merchant-mage's state of shock had been brought on by a magical attack. Like most northerners, they had never bothered to learn Turmish or any of the related southern tongues, and now the half-elf would reap a great reward because of their ignorance.
For a brief moment, when Akabar had found the strength and wits to ask Alias to take him to his wife, the half-elf had feared her scheme would be ruined.
Fortunately Alias had been more willing to trust a stranger than accept the Turmishman's trust in his priestess wife. Cassana had done a good job conditioning the swordswoman to dislike members of the clergy, Kyre thought with satisfaction.
Kyre ran her finger down the sleeve of Akabar's robe. After she had spent months of fruitless searching for the Turmishman, he had brought himself to her, and now he lay here completely at her mercy. Before he regained his senses, she would have to put him under a stronger enchantment. She could place him in a gem of soul-stealing to carry him off to her master, but it would be easier and far more amusing to convince him to come with her of his own free will.
"Please forgive me for casting a spell on you, Akabar," she said in his native tongue, "but I can't permit you to tell everyone about your dreams." The mage's brow furrowed in puzzlement. Kyre pulled a glass vial out from her tunic pocket and unstoppered it. "Drink this down," she told him, raising the vial to his lips. "It will help clear your head."
In his confused state it didn't occur to Akabar to resist Kyre's suggestion.
Dutifully he swallowed the liquid she poured in his mouth.
Kyre leaned over and kissed the mage gently on the lips. "Lie still a few minutes and you'll feel better," she said in flawless Turmish.
"Zhara," Akabar sighed. Then, with more agitation, he cried out, "The bowl of rotting fruit! Zhara, beware!"