The Simbul's gift - Lynn Abbey [21]
"I have staked my own life on Tam's defeat, but that is my purpose. It goes no further. Mimuay and Nyasia have no parts in our drama-"
"Leave the pretty butterflies to their peace," Gweltaz countered, bursting out of his bandages. "I have no quarrel with your plans for their lives. But a son, Lauzoril. A man hasn't left his mark on the world until he's got a son."
They both turned toward Chazsinal whose essence remained below the bandages, then Lauzoril shrugged, simply and effectively. The discussion of children was once again closed. That left a dead enchanter in Nethra, a matter not so easily dismissed.
"Bract's allegiance to Enchantment was well known," Lauzoril mused aloud. "The Nethrans proclaim their independence from Thay and Aglarond. Proclamations must be defended. They have obligations; I'll remind their councilors-"
"Waste of time, boy! The silver-eyed queen's behind your man's murder. She wants dominion over her southern coast, and she'll kill every man, woman, and child of Thay to gain it. Vur Bract's just the beginning. Attack, Mighty Zulkir! Use your little toy and take her by surprise. Even if you cannot slay her, a little triumph against Aglarond will inspire your allies and weaken Szass Tam when he's already weak."
Lauzoril shook his head. There'd never be any little triumphs against Aglarond, only all-out wars with their twin possibilities of complete victory or defeat. Centuries ago the Red Wizards had fought such a war against Mulhorand and won it, but Thazalhar, where the final battles were fought, had never recovered. Faerun didn't need another Thazalhar in Thay or Aglarond.
"I won't start a war that no one will win, Grandfather. The crime fell in Nethra; the Nethrans will bear responsibility. There are other ways to deal with Aglarond's queen. Better ways."
The zulkir unslung his propped-up feet and headed for the crypt door. Midway up the spiral stairs, he leaned against the wall, and brought all his thoughts to bear on the enchanted knife. He could, even at this distance, trigger the scrying spells and, for the price of a numbing headache, hold its attention for an extra few heartbeats.
Lauzoril almost lost the image before he could sharpen it: In greatest of imaginable coincidences, the Simbul had taken his work from the jumbled box where she usually kept it. She held it between her hands. An awesome silver heat seared the zulkir's thoughts; but for the wall, he would have fallen.
He whispered the name of the god he worshiped in privacy: "Kelemvor! What manner of magic possesses her?"
The god of death, traditional patron of Thazalhar and, since the demise of both Myrkul and Cyric, preferred deity of Enchantment's zulkir, didn't answer, but the sound of his own voice calmed Lauzoril's nerves. He wrested his thoughts from the Simbul herself and concentrated on the place where she was, the objects around her. A spellbook lay open nearby-another moment and he could have abstracted one of her spells, but his interest lay elsewhere.
Thay.
He let his thoughts mingle with hers.
Thay. The Wizards of Thay.
Nethra came back to him, both the word and images of the city she knew by sight, smell, and sound. Gweltaz had guessed right; Lauzoril's fists clenched in frustration. Then…
Two deaths. A man and a woman. An enchanter and something else. In Nethra. Two dead magicians. Two dead wizards.
Lauzoril's hands relaxed. "Two dead. Bract and his murderer." He was relieved beyond measure but not surprised until he beheld his own face floating in the Simbul's silvery thoughts.
Why? they both asked.
Lauzoril withdrew to Thazalhar without waiting for an answer.
4
The Village of Sulalk, in Aglarond
Early morning, the fourteenth day of
Eleasias, The Year of the Banner
(1368DR)
"Momma was crying last night. Soft, so you wouldn't hear, but I did. She's sad all the time, Bro."
Knee-deep