Part 14 (2/2)
”Do 'this'?”
”Save the Realms.”
”So we go now to find some comfy chairs and sit back to watch the world fall apart?” Storm asked softly, arching an eyebrow in devastating mimicry of his longtime mannerism.
El sighed, came to an abrupt stop, and spun to face her. ”It's time to recruit successors to take over the task of saving the Realms. We need new hands and sharp eyes and vigor.”
Storm studied his face. ”You mean it.”
He nodded mutely, and they stared into each other's eyes for a time. During which both silently found astonishment at how shaken this late arrival-this one theft not prevented-had left them.
Devastated and close to tears.
Storm nodded slowly, her gaze never leaving his. ”Defending Cormyr from behind the scenes-even in the days when Vangerdahast prowled these halls like a sly old lion, meddling and manipulating and thinking he he was protecting Cormyr-was what we was protecting Cormyr-was what we did did,” she whispered. ”What we excelled at. The cornerstone of the Realms that should be, a world of justice and order and refinement...”
Elminster sliced the air impatiently with the edge of his hand, as if to chop aside her words. ”We start training my unwitting descendant Amarune. Right now.”
Storm shook her head slowly, wincing. ”It will take some time,” she murmured.
”Time we have,” Elminster snapped, ”if ”if we start right now. Shall ye approach her first, or should Elminster the Terrible frighten and enrage her?” we start right now. Shall ye approach her first, or should Elminster the Terrible frighten and enrage her?”
Storm frowned. ”I'll try luring her a bit, first. Then Then you can frighten and enrage her, if it becomes needful. In the meantime, start hunting up more suitable magic for feeding Ala.s.sra. In a palace so full of decaying and forgotten magical gewgaws, even after all your foraging, there must yet be you can frighten and enrage her, if it becomes needful. In the meantime, start hunting up more suitable magic for feeding Ala.s.sra. In a palace so full of decaying and forgotten magical gewgaws, even after all your foraging, there must yet be something.” something.”
”Heh. La.s.s, this place holds entire war wizard armories-walled away and ward-guarded, mind ye-full of enchanted baubles. This current crew of Cormyr's most puissant guardian mages knows not the worth or working of half of them. Yet seizing any magic of Cormyr is going to upset Alusair.”
Storm smiled tightly. ”Everything ”Everything upsets Alusair.” upsets Alusair.”
”Aye, but la.s.s, la.s.s, forget this not: given what we've become, if she catches us at the wrong time and uses all her power, she can readily destroy us.”
Storm shrugged. ”I doubt it. The G.o.ds are seldom that merciful.”
That feeble jest did not bring a chuckle from Elminster or even a smile.
After a moment, she added, ”And didn't something or someone in these halls just come close to destroying her?”
The Old Mage nodded grimly. They shared another long look, then a mutual sigh-and with one accord turned and began the long trudge back out of the haunted wing, toward one of the older secret ways out of the royal palace. One that was least likely to be guarded by current and puissant Purple Dragons or wizards of war.
Amarune Whitewave was somewhere in the city outside the palace and wasn't likely to be invited inside anytime soon.
Not unless King Foril developed a sudden taste for skilled mask dancers.
Six pa.s.sages later, El stopped in midstride, glared at a certain stone in the pa.s.sage wall as if it personally offended him, then bent down to the floor, felt among the stones where wall and floor met, and drew a small block out from between its fellows with a little grunt of satisfaction.
Behind it proved to be a flat, rusty iron coffer that El persuaded to open with one firm bounce of his fist. Inside was a little pendant on a fine chain, such as a court lady might wear, a mask, and two gleaming steel vials, firmly stoppered and sealed. El pa.s.sed all but the pendant to Storm. ”Nightseeing mask and two healing vials; ye carry them.”
He put the pendant around his neck; it vanished entirely beneath his beard.
Storm pointed at where she knew it was. ”So what does that do?”
”Read pa.s.sing surface thoughts. Nothing like a mind-ream, mind, but it should help me tell how many guards are standing on the other side of a door, or the like, as we go on from here. Back when Vangerdahast was building up the wizards of war to be what he wanted them to be, they established scores of identical caches all over the palace to aid them as they rooted out disloyal courtiers.”
He straightened up and pointed at the stone that had first caught his eye. ”See yon slanting chisel mark? That tells ye to look low, if ye're in a rough-walled pa.s.sage like this one.”
Storm nodded. ”Harpers told me to look for an inverted T T of chisel-scars.” of chisel-scars.”
”Ah, those were the caches that held poison-quelling as well as healing. They were for fighting n.o.bles,” El informed her gruffly. ”Not so many of them survive, and they were fewer to begin with. I remember-”
He stiffened then and fell silent, raising a hand sharply to command silence. Storm gave it.
A moment later, from beyond the wall on the other side of the pa.s.sage-a wall that must be very very thin-they heard a door open and a sneering voice speak in a loud and sudden pounce of triumph. thin-they heard a door open and a sneering voice speak in a loud and sudden pounce of triumph.
”And how brightly doth the spark of Tarandar s.h.i.+ne across all the watching Realms this fair evening?”
El knew that voice. He put a finger on the pendant and felt the dark, hot flood of malice in the thoughts from the other side of the wall. So the sneering and sarcastic Master of Revels really was every bit as pompous and nasty as the wagging tongues of palace servants made him out to be.
Khaladan Mallowfaer, it was said, never did a lick of work and never stopped spying on his lessers, needling them, and decrying their work, either.
Just then, all gild braid and crisply uniformed magnificence, he had stepped out of nowhere into the path of...
El frowned and fought hard to steer the pendant away from Mallowfaer's malice toward the other nearby mind...
...a weary Halance Tarandar, just as the senior chamberjack had started the long walk from his little cubbyhole of an office toward home and bed.
All these preparations for the council-plans, revisions, and new plans to sweep away the thrice-approved, thrice-modified revisions...
Halance was anxious to get some sleep before he had to present himself at the court-too soon, by the racing moon, too soon!-all over again for the next day's work. However, the man who stood sneeringly under his nose, wearing his usual unpleasantly mocking smile, was eleven rungs above any senior chamberjack in the exacting ladder of palace rank, so Tarandar managed a smile.
”Tired, saer.”
”What?” Mallowfaer was playfully jovial. ”How so? With all the-ahem-powers at your disposal?”
”Had to use those powers in my dealings with a certain n.o.ble lord, just now, to keep the arrangements right for the big day, and Cormyr safe, saer.”
”Oh? Which Which certain n.o.ble lord?” certain n.o.ble lord?”
”Not at liberty to say, saer. Sorry. Standing orders of Lord Ganrahast, saer; I'm sure you understand.”
The Master of Revels flushed a deep crimson that Elminster could feel feel through the pendant. through the pendant.
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