Part 35 (1/2)
”Well, Elminster was was with me, and-” with me, and-”
”I believe you,” Glathra said crisply. ”If it really was Elminster and not some poser just claiming that infamous name, I'd not have wanted to trade spells with him nose to nose, anyhail. Report!”
Arclath nodded. ”Well, he confirmed everything Amarune has told me: He's her great-grandsire; he was waiting for her in her lodgings yestereve to tell her so; and he wants her to save the Realms as he's been doing for centuries. Beginning with stealing some magic items that are apparently here in Suzail, and hold the ghosts of the Nine-you know about the Nine?”
”We do.”
”Ah, of course. Well, as it happens, that wasn't all that I came here to tell you.”
Glathra leaned forward, for all the world like a hunting dog straining at the leash to be released to pounce. ”Yes?”
”I'm...I'm not half as capable a spy as I thought I was. I am am loyal to the Crown, mind, just not...guarding the realm is not half as easy as I thought it would be. Not to mention even less fun.” loyal to the Crown, mind, just not...guarding the realm is not half as easy as I thought it would be. Not to mention even less fun.”
Glathra's stare was hard and level. ”Others before you, Lord Delcastle, have discovered as much. A few of them have even admitted it.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO.
HUNTING E ELMINSTERS.
Watching G.o.ds Above, was that the time? time?
An exhausted Wizard of War Glathra stumbled out her usual rear door of the palace, intent only on getting home to eat something-cold roast fowl from three nights back would have to do; she was too tired to get busy at her hearth-and soak her aching feet before falling-and this night, it would be be falling-into bed. falling-into bed.
Almost immediately she stopped dead, because someone was standing in her way. Swordcaptain Dralkin.
”Now what?” she snarled, by way of greeting. what?” she snarled, by way of greeting.
Rather stiffly, he replied, ”War Wizard Glathra, I've news that might well concern the safety of the realm. I thought you'd want to know.”
She closed her eyes wearily, but when she opened them again he was still standing there. ”And it is?”
”Three of our younger n.o.ble lords-Windstag, Dawntard, and Sornstern-seem to be turning much of Suzail upside down right now, looking for magical hand axes. They're offering large large coin in the taverns frequented by n.o.bles' servants-the Rose and Dragon, the Servant Exalted, and the Hrelto-for any hand axe brought to them that's magical when they test it, and came from any n.o.ble House. They have this chant about where they want folk to look: 'up on a wall or hidden in a bedchamber or back hall.'” coin in the taverns frequented by n.o.bles' servants-the Rose and Dragon, the Servant Exalted, and the Hrelto-for any hand axe brought to them that's magical when they test it, and came from any n.o.ble House. They have this chant about where they want folk to look: 'up on a wall or hidden in a bedchamber or back hall.'”
Glathra sighed heavily. ”There's more, isn't there?”
”More than that,” he was already adding-her query just brought a vigorous nod as he went on talking. ”There've been thefts and ransackings-by-night seeking things in many n.o.bles' mansions. Bodyguards killed or struck senseless, and many lords and ladies left seething this night at having their chambers looted.”
”Farruk,” Glathra said crisply. ”Farewell, slumber.”
She stepped around him and started to stride down the street.
”I know who's behind all this. Take me to the lodgings of the dancer Amarune Whitewave,” she snapped back at him, over her shoulder. ”We're hunting Elminsters.”
The cave was a long, narrow hovel of damp dirt, stones, and sagging old rough-tree furniture, more a hermit's cellar than a druid den. Two small, flickering oil lamps hung from a crossbranch over a rude table, and somewhere behind their glows sat a stout, broad-shouldered old man, blinking at the band of adventurers past a fearsome beak of a nose. He had a long, s.h.a.ggy white beard.
The floor was an uneven, greasy, hard-trodden litter of old bones and empty nutsh.e.l.ls, and roots thrust out of the dirt walls here, there, and everywhere; on many had been hung a pathetic collection of rotting old sc.r.a.ps of tapestry and paintings.
”So ye've found Elminster,” wheezed the old man, ”ye adventurers, and to earn thy hire would speak with me? Well, speak, then; I've naught to share, I fear, and if ye were expecting great magics or heaped gems, I'm afraid ye've come a century or so too late.”
”I am Sir Eskrel Starbridge, highknight of Cormyr,” Starbridge replied. ”I've come to bring you back to Suzail with me, where your presence is...desired.”
”L-leave Shadowdale?” the wizard quavered. ”I'm-nay. Impossible.”
Around Starbridge, his dozen highknights-and the five war wizards, too-stood as still as stone. Legend insisted-shouted-that this old man blinking at them had spells enough to rend kingdoms, and had done so, more than once. To say nothing of toppling castles, s.n.a.t.c.hing down dragons from the sky and rending them, and transforming charging armies into smears of blood on the earth and a red mist of gore blowing away on the breeze.
Starbridge had said he would try diplomacy first. Not a one of them thought it would succeed, but, well, if there was a time for prayer, this was it.
”Elminster,” Starbridge asked gently, ”what keeps you here? We have woods as wild as these in Cormyr-the Forest Kingdom-and the farm on the far side of that ridge is fast disappearing beneath new saplings. What makes Shadowdale so special?”
The old man smiled. ”All the Realms knows Elminster dwells here, so the fools all come to me. Fools like you.”
The walls erupted, the air full of hissing arrows, quarrels, and darts.
All of which struck air that did not quite glow, a foot or so away from every one of the Cormyreans, and shattered against it to fall harmlessly to the floor. The war wizards responded almost lazily, spells las.h.i.+ng the walls in red-orange fire that tore into the pale, struggling forms of howling doppelgangers hiding behind the tapestries, who convulsed in agony in the heart of those flames and died.
”Your...servants?” Starbridge asked, in the silence that followed. ”Handmaidens?”
The old man behind the table flung himself out of his chair. A highknight darted after him.
”Narulph, stand where you are!” stand where you are!” Starbridge roared. ”Mereld?” Starbridge roared. ”Mereld?”
”Too late to hold it in its shape,” the war wizard snapped in reply, craning his neck. ”Another doppelganger, s.h.i.+fting fast-I'll have to blast it, or it'll get away!”
Starbridge sighed in disgust. ”Do it!”
He turned. ”Baerengard?”
”Wizard of War Lemmeth was fast enough, sir,” came the prompt reply. ”The youth-Thal-was a 'ganger too. He has it held.”
”Good. We question that one. Though I doubt any of them knew where Elminster is, beyond 'not here.' Stlarn it.”
Manshoon smiled into the moving glows and cast a swift spell.
In midgasp the young lords Windstag, Sornstern, and Dawntard all clutched at their heads, reeled, rebounded off the walls, and bit their lips hard enough to draw blood, eyes wide and wild.