Part 25 (1/2)
G.o.ds, what did the callow young idiots who called themselves wizards of war do do, these days? What could possibly possibly be taking them so long? be taking them so long?
Or were they all spewing their guts out in shock and disgust at the sight of so much carnage? By all the G.o.ds that still walked, weren't jacks or la.s.ses who joined the war wizards expecting expecting much blood in their lives ahead? much blood in their lives ahead?
If not, why not? Were they all utterly ignorant of the world they strode around in?
Elminster sourly abandoned asking silent questions that the alley around him couldn't answer.
After all, who was he to demand answers about anything, an archmage who couldn't control his own trembling fingers?
He'd have to go and see and hear for himself. Using yon alleyway refuse hatch, for instance.
He glided over to it, found it ajar, shook his head anew at the carelessness of Cormyr's guardians, and listened hard.
About the length of his arm away from him, two swordcaptains had just begun to confer.
Swordcaptain Tannath was out of breath and none too happy. ”Well, Dralkin? I got here as fast as I could; where's the fire?”
”Out,” Dralkin said grimly, standing just inside the innermost door of the Bold Archer. All the lanterns had been lit and allowed to blaze up full; the room was bright, and every man could see the pool of blood that began at his boots and stretched away into a wrack of furniture and torn, draped bodies like a sticky crimson lake. ”This would be what bards like to call 'the b.l.o.o.d.y aftermath.' Just before they start spewing up their suppers.”
Tannath was dispa.s.sionately scanning the severed limbs and hacked and staring faces. ”I'd say more than a few n.o.ble families are going to be howling for vengeance come morning.”
”Aye, and our heads for not preventing it before it befell, when they can't find anyone else handy to blame,” Dralkin agreed. ”The spellhurlers have just cleared out to concoct something to head them all off. Not to mention to try to decide-though how how a man decides such a thing, I wouldn't know-if some plague of marauding madness has befallen Suzail this night.” a man decides such a thing, I wouldn't know-if some plague of marauding madness has befallen Suzail this night.”
”Right, I'll ask the obvious one,” Tannath asked heavily, his breath back. ”Who did this?”
Dralkin shrugged. He caught sight of Arclath and Amarune's pale and set faces at the rear of Tannath's patrol, but went right ahead and said what he'd been going to say anyway.
”We've talked to two men who ran like stags before a forest fire and got away alive. They say two men who never stopped smiling, with blue flames that scorched nothing burning all over them all the time, did all this. They told everyone they were here to carve up Lord Seszgar Huntcrown-and did. His body's missing, though Wizard of War Scorlound took away a finger he thinks was Huntcrown's.”
”So these two flame-enchanted slayers hauled their prize carved meat back to whoever sent them, to prove they'd done the deed, and earned their fee,” Tannath said grimly.
”Of course. That's not what's riding me right now, though,” Dralkin replied. ”Here's why I want you upset and brooding, too: With all the n.o.bles who want to get here camped in Suzail for this council, is this just the beginning? How many are these flaming murderers going to be sent to harvest, hey?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE.
TO D DREAM A L LITTLE D DREAM OF B BEING K KING.
Gaskur's face was carefully expressionless as he admitted the three tardy n.o.bles, but he led them up the back ways of Stormserpent Towers in almost undignified haste. On another occasion that might have earned him kicks and curses from the young Lords Windstag, Dawntard, and Sornstern, but not in the common mood that governed them just then.
Their hasty departure from the Dragonriders' Club had been followed by a near-race to Staghaven House, the Windstag family mansion, to shelter in its garden summerhouse until the Dragons who'd skulked along behind them from the club gave up and turned back to report their whereabouts. Then the three had taken the tunnel under the street that led from Staghaven's walled grounds to the Windstag-owned luxury stables, and from there down more than one back lane to reach Stormserpent Towers.
The journey had taken more than time enough for their anger to cool into fear, self-cursing, and worry-not just of missing out on Stormserpent's delicious schemes, but for stern consequences or at least annoyingly hampering war wizard suspicion ahead for themselves.
”There you are!” their host snapped as they came into the room in an untidy rush, Gaskur closing the doors behind them as he withdrew. ”Too busy drinking to attend covert little meetings of treason on time?” you are!” their host snapped as they came into the room in an untidy rush, Gaskur closing the doors behind them as he withdrew. ”Too busy drinking to attend covert little meetings of treason on time?”
”Sorry, Marlin,” came a swift reply that left the room blinking in astonishment; none of the six n.o.bles who heard it had harbored the slightest inkling Kathkote Dawntard even knew how how to apologize-to anyone. to apologize-to anyone.
”Aye,” Broryn Windstag mumbled. ”The family purse'll be much lighter by highsun tomorrow, once the Dragons show up at Staghaven House.”
Sornstern was nodding; the three lordlings were the very picture of apologetic and chastened n.o.bility.
Marlin Stormserpent sighed and turned from the board where he'd been filling himself a tallgla.s.s from his favorite decanter. ”What happened?”
The explanation was an untidy collaborative affair that made the heir of House Stonestable snort loudly-and the other two n.o.bles seated around Stormserpent's table roll their eyes a time or two.
For his part, Stormserpent drained his gla.s.s at a gulp and had to refill it. When their mumblings died away, he barked, ”None of you were so drunk or angry as to threaten retribution on the Dragons or Delcastle when you gained more power, did you? Did you?” Did you?”
”No,” all three of the late arrivals replied with puzzled frowns, genuinely believing they hadn't-and, luckily for them, therefore sounding convincing.
Marlin Stormserpent shook his head in exasperation and waved them toward his decanters. ”Sit. Lack of self-governance-and tardiness-once court and palace are aware of us, will cost you your heads, so consider what you've just been through a warning to be remembered and heeded. Now, where were we?”
With Marlin still on his feet pacing excitedly, there were-or would be, once the tardy trio got their gla.s.ses filled-six n.o.bles around the table, all young heirs of lesser Houses. That is, scions of families who had long been frustrated that larger clans, such as the royal Houses of Crownsilver and Truesilver, and perennially masterful wealthy schemers like the Illances, always crowded them out of all real power.
Most of the lesser n.o.bility had quietly striven for centuries-against several handfuls of Obarskyr kings-to force the Dragon Throne to give them ”their due.” Marlin's conspirators, however, were largely drawn from newbloods, families enn.o.bled after the exilings of House Bleth and the dispossessions of the Cormaerils and others.
Young and wealthy n.o.bles can find sycophants and toadies in plenty, but friends among their fellow n.o.bles are rarer to come by and harder to keep, among all the feuding, pride, and burning ambition. n.o.bles tend to cling fiercely to the few real friends they do make-and friends.h.i.+ps had inevitably complicated Marlin's choice of conspirators. Choosing a man he wanted might well bring along a second one he might not have ever chosen to trust with secrets that could cost n.o.ble necks.
Yet among the young heirs of Houses available in the realm, Marlin judged he'd done about as well as he could, if he wanted to retain any semblance of dominance at all in enterprises that could lead to swift graves if handled poorly. He had no stomach at all for recruiting stronger fellows who'd thrust him aside into the role of lackey-or scapegoat-once success was near.
They were all in their seats; Marlin sipped from his gla.s.s and studied them, his face once more a smoothly unreadable mask decorated by the faintest of smiles.
Windstag was a good blade and better hunter, but the sort of big, florid, bl.u.s.tering hothead that could all too easily land them all in disaster-and, there beside him, Sornstern was a nothing, Windstag's toady. Dawntard, though sly and a drunkard, had swift and sharp wits and could steer Windstag where none of the rest of them could.
Dawntard could be trouble, though; trouble for Marlin himself. The sort who waited for weakness and then betrayed fellows to step forward and seize the spoils for himself. So were Handragon and Ormblade, for that matter; he must take great care to keep the three of them opposed to each other, not working together.
Irlin Stonestable was sour-faced and dour of outlook, one who'd endure and do what was needful and no more-but stand like stubborn stone for the cause, when others would slip away and run.
Mellast Ormblade he still could not read as much as he wanted to, nor had he means enough to blackmail. The man was the worst sn.o.b among them, but a saturnine, sophisticated, smooth-tongued diplomat, who just might deserve to look down his nose at almost everyone else in all the realm.
Marlin knew a bit more about Sacrast Handragon, whose family's fortunes had fared perhaps the most poorly of them all-but what he knew made him firmly resolved to treat Handragon with wary respect. The man had the face of a statue when he wanted to, and iron self-control his every waking moment, it seemed. Swift and ruthless when that would benefit him, and a superb diplomat and actor all the time.
Aye, Ormblade and Handragon would bear watching. Hard and constantly too.
He smiled, raised his gla.s.s, and announced, ”It's time, friends, for me to impart some truths.”
By the G.o.ds, how he loved watching men stiffen in fear, waiting for his next words! This must be how it felt to be king.