Part 6 (2/2)
A hiss of gleeful antic.i.p.ation arose among the cl.u.s.ter of courtiers and young n.o.bles standing near. Even Amarune knew that reply was a deft dig, to be sure; the elder Lord Dawntard, Kathkote's father, had been a bold farfarer across the Realms in his day, whereas the son had never ventured farther from Suzail than the family hunting lodges, upcountry. Dawntard's usual companions, the younger lords of Windstag and Sornstern, chuckled aloud as they pressed closer, so as to miss nothing of Dawntard's furious reaction.
Unexpectedly, Kathkote grinned. ”Oooh, cleverly said, Old Ostra, cleverly said. You do do have some dash left in you.” have some dash left in you.”
Lord Broryn Windstag's face actually fell in disappointment. The big, florid, bl.u.s.tering scourge of stags and bold warrior had obviously been hoping for a fight, with his everpresent toady Lord Delasko Sornstern at his elbow.
A cellarer deftly steered full tallgla.s.ses of dragonslake into the hands of all three lords, pointedly serving the merchant and the courtiers from a decanter of Charsalace-a fine wine, but very far from dragonslake-so as to leave the lords preening at the silent recognition of their status.
Bloodbright seemed to have little taste for tarrying where bullying young rivals might try to s.n.a.t.c.h the mysterious lovely on his arm away from him; he whirled Amarune hastily away. Almost to the far end of the room, where the high windows of Dragontriumph Hall afforded a view of many lighted windows across the courtyard. Courtiers not exalted-or idle-enough to be invited to the Open Feast were hard at work behind those windows, in the huge, curving string of interconnected buildings known as the royal court, which s.h.i.+elded the royal palace on two sides from all the bustle and unwashed rest of Suzail.
Amarune had a brief glimpse of tall, dark portraits mounted on the pillars between those windows. Each was startlingly realistic and life-size. There was a masked princess wearing one crown and holding another that dripped blood, and there was a king in blood-drenched armor, rising up in his saddle at the heart of a gory battlefield to hold a gleaming chalice aloft in laughing triumph.
Stirring scenes that caught the eye and imagination. Obarskyrs, no doubt, but which ones, and why had they been painted thus?
She knew she dared not ask the man whose hip she still rode, who was starting to parade her down the other side of the long table.
Where the chatter sounded even more more interesting. interesting.
”Ho, Marlin! I know you were hard at work on something something to do with our shared hobby! Anything you can discuss, yet?” to do with our shared hobby! Anything you can discuss, yet?”
”Heh, no, not yet, Mellast. Not yet. It'll be worth the wait though, believe you me.”
”... ah, but that wouldn't be smugglers at all! That'd be our daring Silent Shadow!”
”Silent Shadow? Sounds like something fat old n.o.blewomen t.i.tter over and vie to be ravished by!”
Amarune managed not to stiffen. Well, we all have our secrets...
”Perhaps so, perhaps so. D'you mean to say you've not heard of him? Or her, for all I know!”
”Milvarune is so so backward, my dear Jhalikoe. We stagger along from season to season hearing almost nothing of fair Cormyr except the exploits of Krimsal-quite the villain, that one. Almost like our n.o.bles out east!” backward, my dear Jhalikoe. We stagger along from season to season hearing almost nothing of fair Cormyr except the exploits of Krimsal-quite the villain, that one. Almost like our n.o.bles out east!”
”Oh, he's no worse than a lot of our other Cormyrean lords, believe you me; he's just more open about what he's up to-most of the time. Right now, he's in hiding, and no wonder, considering some of the murders and mutilations he managed this last winter.” of the time. Right now, he's in hiding, and no wonder, considering some of the murders and mutilations he managed this last winter.”
”Ah.” The envoy from Milvarune was obviously newly arrived in Cormyr. He thanked a server with a silent smile and nod for the tallgla.s.s that had just been steered into his hand. ”Yet I take it this Shadow is more a thief than a slayer? More like your Skult and Vandarl?”
”Ah, so your staff has has told you some useful things; good, good. Yet the Silent Shadow's not like Skult or Vandarl at all. That is to say, they all steal, yes, but 'Skull and Van' are thieves for hire, and good ones. You'd best beware of them; our wealthy n.o.bles can't use either to rob fellow n.o.bles, because these two miscreants are wise enough to refuse such tasks-but told you some useful things; good, good. Yet the Silent Shadow's not like Skult or Vandarl at all. That is to say, they all steal, yes, but 'Skull and Van' are thieves for hire, and good ones. You'd best beware of them; our wealthy n.o.bles can't use either to rob fellow n.o.bles, because these two miscreants are wise enough to refuse such tasks-but can can freely use them to rob or hara.s.s non-n.o.ble creditors or those who get above themselves and presume to challenge n.o.bles when it comes to competing in trade matters. The Shadow, now, is different. A loner, a thief of great daring, who works by night, purloining coins and jewelry from seemingly inaccessible n.o.bles' bedchambers and locked tower-top rooms.” freely use them to rob or hara.s.s non-n.o.ble creditors or those who get above themselves and presume to challenge n.o.bles when it comes to competing in trade matters. The Shadow, now, is different. A loner, a thief of great daring, who works by night, purloining coins and jewelry from seemingly inaccessible n.o.bles' bedchambers and locked tower-top rooms.”
”Ah, I see! So fat old n.o.blewomen would would t.i.tter and coo over him!” t.i.tter and coo over him!”
”Indeed! Oh, you're going to fit in here in Suzail just fine!”
Abruptly firm fingers dug like daggers into Amarune's elbow and steered her away. Lord Bloodbright, it seemed, knew just how long tarrying could continue before it became obvious eavesdropping.
They threaded their ways through gusts of laughter and around a drunken courtier noisily imitating an effeminate visiting n.o.ble of Sembia in a manner that would have earned him a death-challenge had any Sembians been within earshot, to a cl.u.s.ter of men speaking in low tones, almost face to face. One was the darkly handsome Lord Rothglar Illance, a lordling Amarune had been warned about. Not that she'd have failed to be on her very best behavior anyway, with Illance's tall, muscular mountain of a bodyguard, Marlazander the Mighty, standing right behind his lord, constantly peering this way and that, looking for trouble with a face of cold menace.
Bloodbright firmly led Amarune to the table, where some feasters had started to take seats. As they approached, Bloodbright went tense against Amarune, who saw the reason why a moment later.
One of the highest-ranking servants of the palace had just slipped into the chamber and was advancing in smooth haste toward them.
Or rather, was approaching a man seated at the feasting table almost right in front of them, whom Amarune only then recognized: Ganrahast, the Royal Magician of Cormyr.
Understeward Corleth Fentable bent over beside Ganrahast, murmured something, then stood smoothly back and turned away. Amarune knew that although Fentable hadn't once glanced in their direction, she and Bloodbright had been noticed, judged, and almost certainly found wanting.
She forgot about that a moment later, when Ganrahast, the leader of the wizards of war, rose from his seat wearing a frown-and hurried out.
Faster than Amarune had ever seen any war wizard move before.
Many of the n.o.bles around were frowning, too.
Evidently the Royal Magician had been moving faster than any of them had ever seen him move before, too.
CHAPTER SEVEN.
n.o.bLES, SHADOWS, AND D DEADLY D DOINGS.
But what of Baron Boldtree?”
Marlin Stormserpent made haste to drift away from that question and the excited young n.o.bles listening to it, thankful he'd kept to his feet and had no need to rise from a chair, and so be noticed moving away.
He wanted nothing at all to do with Lord Royal Erzoured Obarskyr and his little schemes, whether the man called himself'Baron Boldtree' or not. That one was a smilingly cold-blooded, untrustworthy danger to all n.o.bles. Those who rode too close beside him would lose their heads alongside him, when the time came.
And it would, he had no doubt of that.
No, this this incipient traitor prided himself on being rather more subtle than softly smiling Boldtree. Let others admire the Lord Royal or the power he was gathering unto himself, all n.o.bles and shadows and deadly doings; the pride of House Stormserpent had other, quieter steeds to ride. incipient traitor prided himself on being rather more subtle than softly smiling Boldtree. Let others admire the Lord Royal or the power he was gathering unto himself, all n.o.bles and shadows and deadly doings; the pride of House Stormserpent had other, quieter steeds to ride.
At that moment, just when he was beginning to think he'd be forever toying with the almost-empty tallgla.s.s he'd been nursing, Marlin saw what he'd been waiting for and smiled. At last.
Ganrahast's departure from the Open Feast had been gratifyingly abrupt. So would his be.
Setting his tallgla.s.s down on the feasting table, Marlin turned toward the garderobes, as if his haste was due to a need to relieve himself.
The hour was was growing late, after all. growing late, after all.
On his brisk way down Dragontriumph Hall, he saw something else that made him smile. Six war wizards at the feast whom old Jamaldro had unwittingly served with drugged wine-such a creature of careless habit, our senior cellarer, always setting out his decanters just so, long before they'd be needed, and trust the highnosed mages to want their own, oh-so-special vintage-were all slumping in their seats, as if overcome by drink. a creature of careless habit, our senior cellarer, always setting out his decanters just so, long before they'd be needed, and trust the highnosed mages to want their own, oh-so-special vintage-were all slumping in their seats, as if overcome by drink.
Once he was inside the archway that led into the garderobes, where he could see out into the hall but its shadowed gloom would conceal him from those still by the table, under the lamps, Marlin turned, surveyed the Open Feast, and let his smile broaden.
Certain other guests had observed his departure and in turn had risen to depart. They were all heading his way, as they'd been paid to do. Like him, they would drift first to the garderobes and then sidle onward. Not home, but deeper into the palace.
The carelessness of whose guards was becoming simply shocking, these nights.
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