The City of Splendors_ A Waterdeep Novel - Ed Greenwood [64]
"Well said," Ghaunt agreed hastily, looking at Varandros.
Dyre bared teeth in what might have been a smile. "Thank you, Dorn. I say again: we must learn who wears the Lords' masks… and one way or another, see that the real incompetents among them get replaced."
"'One way or another'?" Imdrael echoed. "Var, we must be very careful. Even if we do nothing that makes anyone decide to put a blade through us, we'd be wise to remember that old saying about toes."
Jarago Whaelshod scowled, in no mood to play games this morning. "What old saying?"
"Be careful which toes you step on now, lest they be connected to the arse you must kiss on the morrow."
Karrak Lhamphur waved away those words with an impatient hand. "How exactly do we set about learning who's a Lord?"
"Watch over Mirt's Mansion from now on, to see just who comes and goes, because…"
"I know!" Hasmur interrupted excitedly. "Because everyone knows Mirt's a Lord!"
* * * * *
Naoni silently closed the well-oiled door, turned her key in its lock with slow, exacting care, and sat down with Faendra and Lark around the broth pot. A warm, rich-smelling mist was rising from it in the chill of approaching dawn, but they left their mugs untouched, staring at each other with identical looks of dismay.
"And so it starts," she whispered. "Father's striding right down the path that can take them all to their deaths."
"And us with them," Lark said quietly.
Faendra turned wide eyes on them both and asked forlornly, "So what do we do?"
Naoni rose and began to pace, her thoughts flying. "Hasmur Ghaunt's the one to work on. The others are much too clever. We leave them be until we've learned things from Ghaunt that we can 'let slip' to make the others think Father's brought us into his confidence. Your task, Faen!"
Her sister smiled sweetly, lashes fluttering over guileless blue eyes. "Dear Hasmur," she murmured. "So very wise, so handsome-"
"Don't fluster him overmuch," Lark warned, "or the poor man won't be able to stammer a word. We need to know, as things unfold, just how far each of them is willing to go."
Boots thundered faintly down the stairs within, and Lark hissed, "Lean back and look sleepy!"
They barely had time to do so ere the lock rattled and the door grated open. Jarago Whaelshod glared out suspiciously. Seeing naught but three sleepy girls huddled in their cloaks, he nodded in grim satisfaction and strode out and away down the street without a word.
Lhamphur and Imdrael were hardly slower, though both returned their tankards with murmured thanks.
Then Hasmur Ghaunt was blinking out at the brightening dawn. Alone. The girls exchanged glances.
Naoni quickly slipped past Master Ghaunt and up the stairs to forestall her father's departure for a few breaths, and Lark knelt to tend the fire. Faendra stepped to Hasmur Ghaunt's side with an understanding smile and murmured, "I know how upsetting this must be for a man as wise as you."
Ghaunt blinked at her, then blushed at the thought such a lovely young lass would know something about him. Had she-no, surely not-said "wise"? He cleared his throat. "'This'?"
"This business with the Lords," Faendra said, eyes demurely downcast. "You've always been the most understanding of Father's friends. I know he trusts you more than anyone else in the New Day."
Her gaze lifted to Ghaunt's face as it drained of color. "New-? How-?" he croaked.
Faendra patted his arm, then took it and walked him a little away from the doors, snuggling against him. Trembling against her soft warmth, Hasmur Ghaunt made the mistake of looking into her blue, blue eyes and was lost.
"Father tells us everything, since