The City of Splendors_ A Waterdeep Novel - Ed Greenwood [182]
A roaring guildmaster-Azoulin Wolfwind of the Stationers-bounded up onto a table and proclaimed himself more than willing to sword any man within the walls who dared to challenge him, the first bellow of a rant that ended abruptly when someone shoved a halfling-sized flowerpot off a gallery railing above.
Wolfwind's heavy-as-a-grainsack collapse took down the table he was standing on, too, causing it to split in half.
Korvaun said briskly, "I know not what fell magic is causing this, but form a ring of steel, Gemcloaks. No one eat or drink anything-this madness might be born of a drug or poison."
"Gods, that's my father," Taeros gasped suddenly. "What's he-oh, Sweet Harbor, they're all here! All our parents; they all got invitations, didn't they?"
"And were told attendance would be considered their demonstration of loyalty to the Lords of Waterdeep," Roldo said, "or so said the invitation the Thongolirs received."
"I wonder," Korvaun murmured, "just who sent those invitations."
* * * * *
"Of course the beast-madness won't last forever," Golskyn told his son with an unlovely smile. "The spell's starting to fade now… which should just give us time to find our next Lord and let the lad save the day. Hurry, before those Watchful Order fools realize something's wrong inside their precious strong-ward and know the Paladinson no longer commands the Statues!"
Mrelder listened to this spate of nonsense in grim silence. Did his father think Piergeiron's guards credited the First Lord with this destruction? Had Golskyn forgotten Piergeiron no longer had the Gorget? Or was he utterly beyond clear thought?
The priest chuckled, strode a few restless paces, and then wheeled around to cry, "Move, boy! Move! Deepnight falls, Midsummer's here, and our day is come at last!"
Then Lord Unity threw back his head and laughed wildly. His mirth was loud, long… and utterly insane.
Mrelder kept his face expressionless, trying not to shiver.
* * * * *
The hall shook under ever-louder impacts, sending more flowerpots toppling from the galleries in a deadly rain. Many revelers were cowering under tables now or lying dead or senseless.
"This avails nothing," Starragar snapped. "Let's go hunt beastmen-after we find a way out of the hall and get the ladies to safety."
"No!" Four angry women cried as one.
"We're in this with you," Naoni added, "until the end for us all, if that's what the gods grant."
"Naoni," Korvaun said gently, "I don't think-"
"Precisely. If you did, you'd not speak such foolishness. Why would I want to be anywhere in all the city but beside you right now?"
Unexpectedly, it was Starragar who laughed and replied, "Why, indeed?"
"We've got to do something," Taeros muttered. "The longer this goes on, the more of our kin will get hurt-or worse."
The thunderous shakings were heavy enough now to throw some of the guests in the hall off their feet, and one of the drinks-fountains toppled over with a mighty crash. Starragar winced.
"That's a lot of good gullet-fire wasted," he murmured. "Whoever these beastmen are, they-Watching Gods Above, what's that?"
From the gallery just above them came an approaching series of heavy crashes, as if something wooden and very large was bouncing down stairs, toward-
"Come on!" Delopae snapped, bursting between Korvaun and Taeros and racing to the nearest ascending stair. Ornate wrought-iron clawed at her gown as she whirled around its spiral, and she impatiently tore herself free and ran on, the others at her heels.
They burst up onto a gallery littered with bodies lying slumped in dark pools of blood just in time to see what was descending so ponderously toward them: a wardrobe the size and height of four armored men abreast, its corners already battered to splinters, that was rolling and crashing its way down an openwork stair from the floor above.
The shudderings of the impacts outside the Purple Silks were magnified up on the galleries-the floors flexed visibly, and