Sir Sabrast stepped away from the pillar, casually moving one hand to cover the rings he wore on the other, and asked softly, "And if I refuse to submit to your demands upon my properties and person?"
The other pillar in the alcove suddenly twisted and blurred. Glowing maces swept up, and Purple Dragoas reached for their weapons on all sides. They paused as the pillar resolved itself into the unmistakable figure of Vangerdahast, the Royal Magician of Cormyr.
"Sabrast Windriver," the old and pudgy mage said calmly, "be aware that daring to cast any spell or commit any acts of violence at this time will earn you a year or so of additional service as a toad… in the palace dung-Middens."
Even as Vangerdahast spoke, the pillar Sabrast had been leaning against became a whirling chaos. An instant later it snapped into the shape of a beautiful maid who was almost wearing a gown of leaping flames.
Purple Dragons gasped and swallowed as those flames died away, shrinking to nothing, to reveal a body that was covered with a shapely tattoo of the Royal Arms of Cormyr. The painted maid blew Andemel a kiss, flickered, and was suddenly a bearded, hawk-nosed old man in plain gray robes.
"Elminster!" several armsmen gasped in startled recognition.
"Just another pillar of the palace," the Mage of Shadowdale told them dryly. "Well met, Vangy, loyal armsmen, and good merchants of Cormyr. Is this a private party?"
Vangerdahast glared at him with a look as sharp as a drawn sword. "Elminster," he asked in a dangerously soft voice, "what are you doing here?"
"Paying Sabrast's tax debt-with handsome interest, ye'll note-and advising ye, in a friendly manner, to reconsider thy rightful demand for his performance of hard labor."
Precept Murauvyn opened his mouth to say something, licked his lips, and looked at Vangerdaliast.
The Court Wizard asked softly, "And just why would you do this?"
The bust of Azoun in the corner was suddenly surrounded by a vivid amber radiance that drew every eye. It J winked, twisted into the shape of a harp for a fleeting J instant, and then slumped into a gleaming, slithering heap.i of gold coins and glass-topped coffers full of gems.
"Rogue he may be, but I-as well as many unwitting folk of Cormyr-are indebted to this knight of thine for j certain supportive actions he hath rendered."
A clearly furious Vangerdahast snapped, "And if I refuse to accept your payment? What then?'
"Well, then," Elminster replied mildly, "I'll be forced to end my protection over certain treasures here in the palace — … and, I'm afraid, they'll revert to their true forms."
"Elminster," Vangerdahast snarled, "are you threatening me?"
The Mage of Shadowdale looked shocked. "By the gentle mercies of Holy Mystra, no," he purred. "Just volunteering some more friendly advice-about consequences, this time. Some of those treasures, ye see, will no doubt I angry when they awaken."
"Angry? Awaken? Elminster, you've placed monsters in the midst of our palace?"
"Nay-am I to blame, if various kings of Cormyr have, an eye for valuables others fail to nail firmly down, and] bring them home?"
"Elminster Aumar," Vangerdahast said tightly, "enough bandinage. Just what sort of monsters are in our halls under your control?"
The Mage of Shadowdale resumed the shape of the curvaceous maiden in the gown of leaping flames and oave the nearest Purple Dragon a welcoming, pouting wink. "Ah… dragons," he told the ceiling innocently.
“Dragons?"
“Only three-or was it four? And only a small sort of dragon," El replied.
In the shocked silence that followed, the lady in the flaming gown took Sabrast's arm and added sweetly, "I'll just go and tell the chancellor ye accept Sir Sabrast's belated but generous payment, shall I?"
Vangerdahast swallowed, closed his eyes, and croaked, "Wine… I need wine. Lots of it."
As she glided through the curtain, the lady in flames snapped slender fingers. Full wineskins appeared out of nothingness and rained down on the Royal Magician.
It was hardly the fault of the Mage of Shadowdale that the third wineskin burst when Master Raurild tried to catch it-and that the fourth hit the momentarily blinded merchant on the head and also broke, drenching Vangerdaliast and Precept Murauvyn, and spraying everyone else in the alcove with wine.
Ruby, of course.
By all the fires of hell, is there no end to these trivialities? Mace, now does one live year upon year and do such… Such waste?
[furious volley of mind bolts]
[wizard screaming down into torn, broken darkness, and dripping, motionless silence] [diabolic satisfaction]
Chapter Fifteen
Black talons closed cruelly on shuddering, cringing white flesh.
There you are! Again you toy with me!
Bulging arms plucked and tore at the thing that might have been human, shaking it furiously-so violently that some bleeding appendages fell off.
[whimper]
Hah! Some vaunted archmage you are!
[spell flash, rattle of spell-spun chain] [sizzle of burning flesh, howl of pain]
Hah! That jolted you, didn't it? Yes, i can hurl spells better than most mortals. Behold, your very own collar and chain. Good dog.
[laughter]
What… have ye done to me?
Put you on a leash, to keep other devils from eating you-or worse.
There's worse? [wry amusement]
Oh, yes. Why, if y- but no. We'll not speak of such things. Trying to worm the secrets of hell our of me? Mortal, what the hell are you playing at?
[mental chuckle] Well said.
There was a moment of menacing silence, there on a smoking ridge in Avernus, before Nergal laughed too.
Human, i begin m think i'm going to miss you.
You're leaving? So soon? [mental snort]
Idiot. A jester among wizards, you are. Down, dog, and come hack this way with me, and i'll heal you a little. I don't want a trail of blood to bring us unwanted attention.
Where are we going?
Somewhere else. [bellow of laughter] Stew on that, clever wizard. Think humans are the only ones mighty in magic? Why, i know a spell that can bind a demon for a hundred years in the shape of a sword. We call them "doomblades." There are a dozen or more wandering around your precious toril right now, in various unwitting hands. You steal any swords lately, wizard?
Ah, how recently?
[gusts of laughter] Ah, elminster, you'll slay me yet!
Ahem. A figure of speech, of course.
En? Indeed, indeed. Little human bastard.
Silently, a pointed rock behind the archdevil moved, curling out like a dark finger….
Nergal let healing fire wash briefly over the shuddering human in his hands. He bent his will and watched his magic turn the scrawny man slowly into a creature of Helclass="underline" a nupperibo, bloated and dirty and yellow-white. With a tight smile he dropped Eminster to hang, choking and strangling, at the end of the spike-studded chain. Fresh blood flowed as his captive's new bulk was dashed helplessly against the barbs.
Nergal shook the chain, rattling his struggling captive against a rock. El clutched frantically at the chain to avoid having his neck broken. He danced for his life as the arch-devil threw back his head and laughed.