Part 8 (1/2)
”Dragonskull, for all the gold in the upper treasury,” Alusair answered him disgustedly. ”Unless their thoughts are captivated by old and broken furniture.”
Then she stiffened and lifted her head like a hound sniffing the wind. ”Ganrahast and Vainrence, coming through the palace by different ways, both in a howling hurry! Both bound for the north turret...and Vainrence will get there first.”
Elminster peered at her. ”Ye can track anyone moving about the palace?”
”Of course not. Just these two, usually; I can feel feel all the magic they load themselves down with,” Alusair snapped. ”They often meet in a room right at the top of the north turret, where I can't go, presumably for discussions they want to keep all the magic they load themselves down with,” Alusair snapped. ”They often meet in a room right at the top of the north turret, where I can't go, presumably for discussions they want to keep very very private. Want to listen in on this one? I've never seen them in such wild haste before!” private. Want to listen in on this one? I've never seen them in such wild haste before!”
Elminster nodded thoughtfully, a fire kindling in his eyes. ”I believe I do.”
The eyes of the palace maid, staring ardently into his over their hungrily joined mouths, widened in sudden fear, and Lord Arclath Delcastle felt her stiffen all over.
He listened hard.
A man who was muttering to himself was trudging up the last few turns of the north turret steps before the topmost bedchamber.
Arclath left off kissing and cuddling the la.s.s in his arms long enough to clap a swift hand over her mouth before she could so much as squeak, drag her around behind the wardrobe, and then silently-but fiercely-curse.
Last time, he'd distinctly distinctly heard the two wizards growl agreement that they were heard the two wizards growl agreement that they were never never going to climb all those stairs again, as they set off back down them. going to climb all those stairs again, as they set off back down them.
Yet here they were again.
With furious energy, Arclath indulged himself in snarling the most flowery and fervent oaths he knew, but his profanities were utterly silent, blazing only in his mind.
Over his hand, the maid was staring at Arclath in stark terror as the wizard on the other side of the wardrobe went from murmuring to saying the clear-and distinctly irritated-words, ”Come on on, Gan. Let the courtiers see to their own tasks for once. We've important important matters on our platters.” matters on our platters.”
Arclath tried to give the chambermaid a rea.s.suring look, but it didn't seem to work. And no wonder; they'd both recognized the voice of the wizard Vainrence, one of the most feared spellhurlers in the kingdom. The enforcer among the war wizards, the mage who could-and had-shattered the walls of a castle keep to get at traitors within.
”I heard you,” another voice replied sourly from farther down the steps. The maid recognized it as well as Arclath; her eyes promptly rolled up in her head as she fell into a dead faint, sagging heavily in Arclath's arms.
On the other side of the wardrobe, the Royal Magician Ganrahast came into the bedchamber, breathing hard. The top of the north turret was a long climb.
”Yes?” he gasped.
” 'Tis urgent,” Vainrence replied flatly, wasting no time on greetings.
”Always is.” Gasp. ”Urgent what?” Gasp.
”One of our informants just told me the n.o.bles Rothglar Illance, Harmond Hawklin, and Seszgar Huntcrown are plotting treason. They plan to unleash what they refer to as a 'ball of spellplague' that they have locked in a small coffer, to flood the room with harmful wild magic at the Council of the Dragon.”
Ganrahast didn't spend breath on a curse or a sigh. ”Presumably the three are immune to its effects,” he gasped, ”and believe it will do harm-instantly debilitating harm-to their fellow n.o.bles and the royal family, we mages, and courtiers.”
”We war wizards, at the least,” Vainrence agreed. ”I can't see them as self-sacrifices to any cause. They intend to survive this unleas.h.i.+ng.”
Finding that that particular n.o.ble trio harbored treason was no news at all, but it was the first Delcastle had heard of a flying ball of spellplague. Was such a thing even possible?
”If this information is anywhere near truth,” Ganrahast pointed out.
Vainrence shrugged. ”Like you, I suspect the veracity of anything I'm freely told. Yet can we dare not not take this seriously?” take this seriously?”
”When we could be dooming the king? And most of the senior n.o.bles of the realm with him? Hardly.”
Vainrence spared himself enough time to curse. After a moment, Ganrahast joined him.
”I'll put the hilt in my mouth,” Elminster whispered, settling himself on his side on the cold stone floor, ”and share what my mind sees with thine, for as long as the magic holds out.”
Alusair nodded and put out her hand to him.
Her touch was no more solid than a whisper, but her chill was deep, plunging him into uncontrollable s.h.i.+verings in an instant.
Yet his word was his word, and she'd led him to a hidden Obarskyr dagger and offered him its magic without hesitation, so...
There was an instant of whirling nausea as El unleashed the spell and found it caught up in strong new wards that tore and twisted...
Until he could ride them, become one with them, and melt through them.
Typically unsubtle, brute force magework.
Wizards, these days...
Ganrahast started to pace. The windowless room near the top of the north turret held only an empty wardrobe, plain wooden bench, and a table along the wall beside it where a row of storm lanterns were kept ready, so he had plenty of room to stride.
That, the cloaking spells they'd cast on the chamber long before, and the room's deserted remoteness were why the two men liked to use it.
Vainrence was right, of course. They couldn't ignore the tip, even if it had come from someone quite likely paid to pa.s.s it on by a disguised someone else who likely intended it as misdirection. There was very little they could do about that; since the Spellplague, the mind-reaming that had once made Cormyr's wizards of war so feared-and effective-was useless.
The Crown's decreed death penalty for trying a mind-reaming was quite beside the point. Attempts by any wizard to use the reaming spells always resulted in that mage being driven to idiocy or instantly and severely spell-scarred. So regardless of Foril's laws and the longtime refuge of no war wizard facing trial for what no king or courtier learned about, not a single war wizard dared mind-ream anyone-unless the mage was already dying and did it as a ”last loyalty.”
If things had been otherwise, a lot of sneering n.o.ble heads would probably long since have left their shoulders...but things weren't otherwise, and all Cormyr knew it.
”My turn,” Ganrahast said quietly. ”I overheard something interesting at the feast. Rumors about some n.o.bles trying, sometime in the near future, a little foray into the haunted wing. What I could not learn-because the gossipers didn't know-was whether this was to be a lark, some sort of dare or rite of pa.s.sage, or yet another attempt to get at all the treasure and prisoners and chained pleasure maidens we're supposed to keep hidden away there.”
”You mean there aren't any pleasure maidens?” Vainrence joked. ”Years I've been serving the Crown, years years, man, in hopes of...”
”Har har har har, Rence. Think about it. We'll double the guards on all ways in, of course. Who's behind it, that's what I'd like to know.”
As everyone in the palace and most who worked in the royal court knew very well, the haunted wing of the palace really was was haunted. Even war wizards avoided it as much as they could. The Blue Fire had twisted layers upon layers of wards cast down the centuries into dangerous magics no war wizard dared tamper with. haunted. Even war wizards avoided it as much as they could. The Blue Fire had twisted layers upon layers of wards cast down the centuries into dangerous magics no war wizard dared tamper with.
The Spellplague had wrought one good thing in the royal quarter of Suzail, and one thing only. No portal or any other sort of translocation magic worked properly anywhere within, into, or out of the palace, court, or royal gardens anymore, so the Crown was spared one worry. No one could magically whisk marauding monsters, would-be a.s.sa.s.sins, or small armies into the haunted wing or anywhere else near where the council would be held.
Ganrahast, Vainrence, and the most senior courtiers had already talked about raising spells to seal off the haunted wing during the council. The war wizards would have done so without wasting breath on a single word of discussion if they'd quite dared to cast wards that powerful inside the palace or had known the best web of spells to try to construct.
”The Shadovar, perhaps?”