The City of Splendors_ A Waterdeep Novel - Ed Greenwood [2]
Light footfalls whispered on stone, approaching his corner. Mrelder paid little heed. Candlekeep was a quietly busy place, where many came to learn or, like him, to hide. The little snake, however, took alarm, darting into its master's sleeve and coiling about his forearm.
Thus alerted, Mrelder swept up his books and rose-just as a red-bearded giant of a man rounded the nearest shelf. Though one of Candlekeep's Great Readers, Belloch looked more like a warcaptain than a scholar. Just now, his face wore a dark expression better suited to a battlefield than a library.
"Come," Belloch rumbled, dropping a massive hand onto Mrelder's shoulder. Without pause he wheeled, jerking the young sorcerer along so sharply that books tumbled. Mrelder stooped to retrieve them, but Belloch's grip tightened. "Leave them."
Mrelder stiffened. To treat precious tomes so was unprecedented in Candlekeep! In a sudden flood of wild speculations, he fetched up chillingly against a dire prospect: perhaps a certain priest by the name of Golskyn had recovered from his latest "improvement," somehow found Mrelder's trail, and come here.
No escape, even here…
Striding hard, Belloch marched the young sorcerer out of the chamber and down hall after hall Mrelder had never walked before. Some short time after he'd become thoroughly lost, they descended a winding stair and crossed several darkened rooms to emerge in a large circular chamber.
Mrelder's heart sank. Several senior Readers were gathered, and with them his favorite lore-guide, the visiting monk Arkhaedun. Six of his fellow scholars were also in attendance, looking frightened and confused. Armored guards-and where had they come from?-ringed the walls, faces impassive and long spears held ready.
It looked as if a court had convened to condemn Mrelder for his part in Golskyn's crimes-or perhaps, a small voice whispered deep in his mind, for his own inability to duplicate them.
"Arkhaedun informed us of your training," Belloch said curtly, stepping away from Mrelder only to turn back and glare. "He says you possess considerable fighting skills-not just small, untutored magics."
The Reader's dismissive tone wasn't lost on Mrelder. Belloch had been a battle mage; many wizards scorned the inborn-and to their minds, unearned-powers of sorcery. Long used to far worse treatment, Mrelder was years beyond taking offense.
"I've learned much in my time here, lords," he replied, trying to sound calm. "May I ask what this meeting concerns?"
"We've received an urgent summons for every willing warrior and magic-wielder we can spare. A great battle rages, spawning small fires that can best be stamped out by such as you." Belloch grew a mirthless grin. "Your fascination with the city of Waterdeep has been noted; it should serve you well."
"Waterdeep? You want me to go to Waterdeep?"
Something in Belloch's face changed at Mrelder's awed tone. "I'll not lie to you, lad: this task may be your last. Monks' sparring is poor preparation for bloody war-and Binder forgive me, even all our books and scrolls leave many of that city's secrets untold."
"I'll go," Mrelder said eagerly. "Of course I'll go."
The Master Reader nodded and turned to the other scholars. "Choice made? Well, then: When 'tis time to return, say 'arranath' aloud, and so hear the way."
As he silently mouthed that word to fix it in memory, Mrelder's thoughts were of Waterdeep. To see the City of Splendors with his own eyes!
How often he'd dreamed this dream without really expecting it to become truth! Yet what crisis could threaten mighty Waterdeep that his small skills were needed? Had the great wizards of the city somehow… fallen?
Wilder thoughts whirled through Mrelder as he watched Arkhaedun step onto a circular mosaic in the middle of the chamber floor, an intricate rune outlined