The Vacant Throne - Ed Greenwood [5]
One of the two tersepts who stood closest to the throne stirred, opened his mouth as if to say something, and then fell silent again, a puzzled frown large upon his features.
"Yes, Pelard of Yarsimbra?" King Snowsar asked gently, letting a real smile onto his face for the first time.
As the courtier shook his head, not able to frame the words that would be politic amid his racing thoughts, the smile on the face of the Risen King grew and grew, until it shone as brightly as any of the many clusters of gems worn by the splendidly garbed courtiers of Flowfoam Isle.
"An eerie place, to be sure," Hawkril murmured, taking a step back and waving at his companions to do the same.
Something tiny but black-spined scuttled from behind one fallen rock, ahead, and darted in behind another.
Craer nodded. "Perhaps so, but I'd rather be here-even with monsters or brigands waiting behind every third archway-than in that pit of vipers around the king."
Embra lifted an eyebrow. "You speak of the royal court of Aglirta, I presume?"
"The same. I wonder how many barons' wizards simply melted into other faces and names, and rushed to be courtiers so as to stand as close to power as they'd been before."
Sarasper frowned. "Now, that's a thought. Where did all those dandies and snaketongues come from, anyway? They couldn't just have risen in full finery up out of caves and cottages on Flowfoam Isle-not when the Bloody Baron himself-sorry, lass-"
"No apology needed," Embra murmured, waving at him to speak on.
"-had a guarded and vigilant fortress on top of the whole thing!"
"The Koglaur?" Hawkril asked.
"There're that many of them? And why would they step so boldly into the heart of things, when their way is to hide and work unseen?"
"Boldly into roles of greed and stupidity and self-serving scheming, too," Craer added. He caught a knowing look from the armaragor, and smilingly added, "A god's joy-bower for some of us, aye, but not the way of Koglaur, I'm thinking."
"So where did they all come from?" Embra Silvertree asked softly.
Sarasper nodded. "I'll grant we may be very wrong in thinking them all an army of allies rather than foes and rivals locked in endless dispute, but, lass, you really mean three deeper queries: who are they, who do they really serve, and what are their plans for Aglirta?"
Embra nodded. "Indeed. I'm thinking that finding those answers may be the task the king really needs us to do, rather than the Dwaer-hunting mission he sent us on."
"And I'm thinking," Hawkril rumbled, resuming his wary advance with his warsword raised and ready, "that our king is no fool-and that the task you name is one and the same thing as our royal mission."
2
No Wizards Without Secrets
Tall candles were flickering low in their rows of gleaming, man-high wooden holders as a man whose face was as beautiful as many a maid's threaded his way between them, for the hour was late, later than Baron Audeman Glarond was wont to be still dressed and striding about; the Lord of Glarond wasn't known as a man of stamina or firm purpose. Yet his large, dark eyes seemed hard and purposeful enough now, as he adjusted a lamp above a lectern and set down the book he was carrying in its glow, opening it to a marked place.
" 'Forsooth the flimflam jabber rose spearescent against the sun, marking its bright flight with clangour o'erwhelming the very orbs of those who so wretchedly beheld its bold career,' " he muttered aloud, before slamming the book shut and adding almost fiercely, "Great bard or no, I can't understand a word of it! Drivel-all around me, drivel!"
The light behind him changed, and the Baron of Glarond whirled around with an abruptness more suited to a man of war than a lover of poetry. This tense alertness was not lost on the man whose approach had blocked the light of the candles along the passage, and his soft-voiced murmur was swift. "Me, Lord. Only Margurpin."
"And what, good Mar,