Spellfire - Ed Greenwood [130]
"Aye," Florin agreed. "Perhaps we should tell you of the Realms about so you can better decide your route.
Would that help?"
"Indeed," Shandril and Narm answered together.
"Danger, you will find, lies on every hand. You want to wander freely, and hide yourselves, so places where few dwell that are near to us here are out, as are warlike and inhospitable lands. That bars you from anything north of the Moonsea, and from the Stonelands, Daggerdale, and Myth Drannor, all presently lawless places where much strife rages.
"Mulmaster, too, is an unfriendly place," Florin noted. "So, of course, are Zhentil Keep and the cities under its sway. Cormyr is friendly, but still too close to the cult's strength and spies for your comfort."
"Westgate is where Torm was reared-and look at him!" Torm grinned at Lanseril's comment. "It is a den of thieves and warring merchant houses, a city built on intrigue. Keep clear of it."
The druid paused to wet his throat from his flagon of spring water, and Merith spoke.
"You then have little choice as to what direction to travel. West you must go, overland to the Sword Coast cities. Silverymoon would be good, although you must be wary of the fell forces of Hellgate Keep and the ores of the mountains. You must be alert for the long reach of the Zhentarim and of the cult-for if you do join the Harpers, and the cult hears of it, they will expect you to show up in Silverymoon sooner or later.
"The Moonshaes and Neverwinter are good, if you can remain unknown as the hurler of spellfire and her spellcasting companion. Everlund also, but Loudwater and Nesme and other places too favored by overland trade bring too great a risk of discovery.
Loudwater lies between the Zhentarim, in Llorkh, and Hellgate Keep, and is isolated by wilderness and deep forest. Such places you must avoid, for they become traps all too easily. Have I left aught unsaid?"
"No," Illistyl said simply, and Jhessail laughed.
"If your heads are not spinning with that whirlwind tour of near Faerun," she added, "they should be!"
"Better they spin now than later, lost off the road somewhere in the wilderness of Faerun," Elminster said darkly. "We'll make thee a map on soft hide-Florin, ye and Lanseril can do it this night, if ye will. Remember the three Merith has told thee of, for I would avoid Everlund also. Seek ye Silverymoon, or Neverwinter, or the Moonshae Isles.
"Ye must, I think, leave the Inner Sea lands, at least for a while, and the South is no hiding place for thee.
Go west, and find fortune."
Jhessail nodded. "Whatever you choose," she added, face serious, "do it quickly and quietly. Those who can slay you will be looking for you."
"Lord Marsh." The voice was cold. Its red-haired owner turned from a many-paned window inset with rubies. Fzoul Chembryl, high priest of Bane, master of The Black Altar and its priests and underpriests, laid cold eyes upon him and extended a hand that bore a black, burning banestone.
Lord Marsh Behvintle knelt and kissed it and rose with haste, carefully keeping his face impassive. The slave trade was too profitable to jeopardize it or his own standing with a quarrel. Marsh did not love the high priest, and one day there would a reckoning.
Fzoul would then serve Bane far more directly than he did now, if Tymora smiled.
"I have called you here to discuss the matter of spellfire, in light of the continued absence of the Lord Manshoon. Sememmon, Ashemmi, Yarkul, and Sarhthor, as well as the priests Casildar and Zhessae, are here already."
"Almost everyone," Marsh said noncommittally, as he followed Fzoul down a short flight of stairs and along one of the drafty bridges that The Black Altar seemed to specialize in-railless spans of stone where one misstep would mean a killing fall to a stone floor twenty man-heights below. They climbed another stair, into a high chamber Marsh had