The Diamond - J. Robert King [9]
Lasker's mouth set. "So, you've saved all Waterdeep from a plague of monsters and conjured armies. Congratulations." He sketched a mock bow. "What has it gotten you? The dungeons, serving common guard duty! Where's your estate? Your riches? Your influence? You saved all Waterdeep but own none of it!" The merchant waved a dismissive hand.
"With me," he said, the light in his eyes again, "you'll have all those things. Come back to the family. All it'll take is a public apology, asking to be received back."
"What?" Noph asked, astonished.
"You publicly humiliated the house of Nesher," his father explained, "and you will publicly remove that humiliation."
"I wouldn't join you," Noph said slowly, "even if you apologized to me-and not only to me, but to all of Waterdeep!"
As the young hero's last few shouted words echoed around them, his father's face grew sour. "My son, the great, self-righteous hero!" He sighed contemptuously, and then asked, "What good is it to be a hero if you lack any plan to make the public pay you benefits for your heroism? Eh?"
Noph shook his head. How could a man-and not just any man; his father!-be this base? Wasn't-
"If I might ejaculate something between you-" a voice rumbled from nearby.
Noph had thought this end of the dungeon was empty. He looked through the open doorway at the cell across the corridor. Jostling at its bars were the unlovely faces of the Brothers Boarskyr.
Noph sighed. "Father, I believe your partners in cri-politics-have something to add."
"Thank you positively, young Hastacough," Becil Boarskyr bellowed, clearing his throat.
"Kastonoph."
"Right, Kastratoff. Listen well to your father's patronizing speech. Your sire's only trying to become a sire with a capital's', if you know what I'm hinting at around the bush. That would make you a sire with a lowly V at first, but soon enough, once your sire kicks off, he'll leave it in your posterior."
"Posterity," Lasker attempted a correction.
"How's about I have a look at your sword?" Bullard asked.
"This is a private conversation," Noph said flatly.
"Not to fiddle about with another man's privates," replied Becil, "but our enterprise has got its smarmy speaker (that's your progenital pater, there beside you), and two liberaltarian spenddrifts (that's ours truly), and now all we need is a hero's face to kiss the babies and shake the hands of men and ply his silvered tongue in every passing lady's behalf-"
"Arrgh! It's useless!" Lasker screamed, tossing his hands into the air and stalking away down the corridor.
Noph smiled at the two idiots. "I never thought I'd say this to you, but… thanks."
Bullard nodded. "I never thought I'd say this, neither, but how's about a look at your sword?"
The younger and elder scions of House Nesher had scarce turned a corner in search of a cell when there was a great rush of black wool and imperious gestures along the passage. The whirlwind resolved itself into Khelben the Blackstaff even before the armsmen got their weapons out. A raised magely eyebrow sent the few drawn weapons hastily back into their sheaths.
"Gather round, all of you," he said. "Aye, those in the jakes, too."
The dungeon was suddenly alive with shuffling feet and nervously attentive armsmen crowding around the mage.
Khelben looked around. "Is that all of you, at last? Good. The spells I'm about to cast on you are complex and costly; I don't want to have to repeat a single one of them."
A final guard rushed up to join the group, hands darting beneath his belt where shirttails flapped.
Khelben gave him a glare, and then turned his head to favor all of the other armsmen with it. "Any of you been under a stoneskin spell before?" There were a few nods. "'Tis pretty simple; makes your skin as tough as stone. It'll turn arrows, daggers, swords, and the like. It should keep you from hurting each other down here tonight. I'm casting it now."