Tangled webs - Elaine Cunningham [64]
The High Captain shook off his dark thoughts and fixed his eyes firmly on the western horizon. No doubt there was magic at work around the Purple Rocks, but there was power to be had, too. If he had to face the one to gain the other, he would take his chances as they came.
The town of Yartar was an important crossroads of the Northlands, located as it was on the River Dessarin and the trade road between Triboar and Silverymoon. Many important goods came through this town, not the least of them information.
Baron Khaufros, Lord ofYartar, was an ambitious man. He had inherited his wealth and title, but he'd earned his position as ruler ofYartar by his ability to build alliances of trade and politics. He was a steadfast member of the Lords' Alliance, that group of cities that tied their interests closely to those ofWaterdeep. Khaufros was also a member of the Kraken Society, and the hidden chambers and tunnels under his mansions were frequent haunts of those spies and assassins who did the society's dark work.
At the moment, the baron was alone, engrossed with the pile of messages on his desk. Late spring brought a thawing of the Dessarin and a flow of messages from many towns-and many sources.
Khaufros absently tossed back the contents of his goblet and read the missive from his unknown Luskan contact once again. The plot against Ruathym was proceeding nicely, but for reasons unspecified it was decreed that the blame for many of the island's troubles was to be affixed upon a certain rogue sea captain of Ruathym. Khaufros was to do whatever he could to augment and support the new "facts" that spoke against this man. The Kraken leader from Luskan was also calling in all markers, demanding that the Ruathen ship be stopped by any means possible before it reached its home port, for the accusations could not be as easily made if the man lived to refute them.
"My lord baron."
Khaufros instinctively crushed the damning message in his hand and looked to the door of his study. The entrance was flanked by two suits of Cormyrian plate armor, priceless things forged of mithril and tested in battle against the Tuigan horde. Standing between them, utterly dwarfed by their martial glory, stood his elderly and impeccable steward, Cladence.
"The diplomatic courier from Waterdeep is here, m'lord, awaiting your pleasure."
The baron smiled and leaned back in his chair, the needed plan already forming in his mind. "Show him in, Cladence, and send my scribe in with him. Shut the door after them-we may be in conference for some time."
The messenger was a young man of common stock, too ignorant of court ways to change his travel-stained gear before seeking audience. Since this was the last mistake the lad was likely to make, Khaufros was inclined to let it pass. The baron accepted the letter from Waterdeep, broke the seal, and quickly scanned the contents. Routine information, for the most part, some of which he had already heard in greater detail from his Kraken Society contacts. Khaufros looked up, his eyes focusing on a point somewhat behind the waiting courier. "Semmonemily, if you will, please," he said politely:
There was a metallic creak of plate against plate, and one of the empty armor suits stirred to life and began to advance on the messenger. The young man tumed toward the sound just as a spiked metal gauntlet lashed out. His head snapped sharply to one side, and bits of broken teeth clattered to the floor like so many bright pebbles. Before the messenger could cry out, the empty metal hand struck again, and then again. Calmly, efficiently, the armor suit went about its grim task.
The baron and his scribe looked on with impassive eyes, for they were too accustomed to such events to feel much of a response. Once they'd watched such executions with horrified fascination and just a touch of perverse pleasure. Now it was mere routine. Nor did either man blink when