Lord Eldroon said, “I have little comfort to give. You saw what I saw.”
The two nobles exchanged grim looks. Both of their Halfhap portals now opened into sagging, splintered-wood ruin. It seemed the Oldcoats Inn had been destroyed. Purple Dragons wading in that rubble had seen and shouted at the bullyblades Yellander and Eldroon sent through the portals to learn more. Those blades had hastily returned, but there was no telling how soon Purple Dragons might-would-come flooding into the hunting lodge through those portals.
“We must put this all behind us, or our heads and shoulders will soon want for each other’s company,” Yellander muttered. Then he clapped his hands, drew himself up briskly, and went back to the door.
“Brorn, Steldurth: Bring all the lads in here! At once!” he barked. To Eldroon’s silent, questioning look, he murmured, “Later.”
When his four-and-ten surviving bullyblades were assembled, Lord Yellander crisply directed them to heap the furniture in the room into two long barricades well out from the walls, facing the two portals both before and behind.
“Poisoned bolts,” he commanded. “You are to await and fell anyone coming through these magical ways except Lord Eldroon or myself-or anyone with us, if we tell you to refrain from slaying them. Keep at this duty in shifts, until I order you to cease, even if that’s a tenday or more hence. Use the other rooms to sleep, eat, and cook. Keep hidden behind the barricades when in this one, and keep all doors closed. If Purple Dragons come to the outer doors, you know not where I am, and are guarding these portals-which just appeared, startling myself and the Lord Eldroon very much-for the safety of the realm, awaiting our return with war wizards to deal with them. You’ve never been through them, you don’t even want to go near them, and you don’t know where they lead.”
Collecting their nods of obedience, Yellander nodded curtly back at his men and turned away, tapping Eldroon’s forearm in a silent direction to walk with him.
Together they strode through the door that led into a retiring room, and thence to Yellander’s bedchamber. As the door swung shut behind them, Yellander silently directed Eldroon to help him lift and set into place its inner door-bar, as soundlessly as possible.
Then he hurried into the bedchamber, turned immediately through a door to enter the adjoining jakes, and turned again to pass through a small door into a wardrobe. Eldroon followed silently, following Yellander down a dark row of hanging cloaks, breeches, doublets, and boots, to a sliding panel at its end that flooded the wardrobe with cold blue light. There was just room in the cubicle beyond for them both to stand, breast to breast, without touching the portal itself. Yellander slid the panel closed again.
“Where?” Eldroon whispered, jerking his head at the cold blue fire so close to them.
“Suzail. Where we’ve been these last two days, engaged in the longest and most fascinating game of castleboard either of us has ever played.”
“Ah. Are we off to slay Crownsilver?”
Yellander lifted an incredulous eyebrow. “While he can still play the guilty traitor responsible for all? Far from it!” He inclined his head toward the panel they’d just come through and murmured merrily, “Truly, ’tis amazing, in a realm so well governed and so strongly held, the sort of thieves, ravagers, and blackguards that so swiftly infest the private hunting-lodge of even the most upstanding noble in their absence, and work lawless deeds so evil as to verge on treason!”
Eldroon smirked.
Yellander’s reply was a shrug and the words, “Or so my tale runs, as I stand staunchly behind it!”
The portal swallowed him, then did the same to Eldroon an instant later.
Wherefore neither lord heard the door of Yellander’s bathing chamber open in the next moment, and a fully restored Ghoruld Applethorn step out of it, wearing a crooked smile.
“Yes, you oh-so-clever conspirators,” he murmured. “Run to your spies at court, to see how many war wizards have fallen. And so present yourself to Vangerdahast as the traitors he’s looking for. And while he’s gloating over you…”
He grinned broadly, strode across the bedchamber until he was as far as he could get from Yellander’s private portal, and teleported away.
Chapter 17
Oh, but the realm should tremble
If ever the Knights go to war.
Keep moving,” Florin murmured, as Dauntless strode out of the blue fire, found himself in a dank, utterly dark stone passage somewhere underground, and faltered. “Two paces. That should give Lady Laspeera room enough not to run into you.”
Dauntless growled agreement and took his two paces. He could tell by the warm ghost of breath that someone was standing near him. He wrinkled his nose, breathing in leather and a faint whiff of sweat. She-sweat, coming from someone as tall as him. Islif. “So, where are we?”
Islif said not a word, but Semoor offered brightly, “Somewhere underground and dark.” His voice sounded as if he was slumped against the wall a few paces on. Or lying on the stone floor.
Dauntless growled again, letting a little of his anger into it.
“Somewhere utterly unfamiliar to us,” Jhessail said quickly, from beyond Semoor. “I can give us light, but Lady Laspeera’s magic may be far better than-”
The cold blue fire flickered again. Laspeera stepped out of it, stopped, and asked calmly, “Where are we?”
“I was hoping you might be able to help us with that,” Florin said, from beside her. “Jhessail can give us light to see by, but if you’ve a spell that would serve better…”
“No. Jhessail, please do.”
The casting was simple, and when it was done two spheres of flickering light appeared above Jhessail’s palms. She willed them to the ceiling-damp, of large fitted stone blocks, and low overhead-and sent them past herself a little way, showing them all a long, straight passage lined with well-dressed stone. Then she sent them bobbing past the Knights in the other direction, veering around either side of the portal and on, to illuminate more of the same.
“Very exciting,” Semoor commented. “Not quite the thrill the inn became, but-”
Laspeera handed him a potion, and another to Doust. “Your healing potions,” she murmured. “Drink, everyone who stands in need.”
When Islif shook her head, the war wizard’s voice sharpened. “In the name of the Crown of Cormyr, Islif Lurelake, I order you to drink one of these. Stubborn heroes are usually soon too dead to accomplish anything.”
Islif nodded, took the proffered potion, and drank.
“Still dark, dank, and utterly unfamiliar,” Doust commented, looking down the passage. “So, where are we?”
An instant later, Florin snapped, “Pennae, get back here! ”
Behind their backs, beyond the portal, the thief-Knight had been softly walking away down the passage, but at Florin’s command-and the approach of Jhessail’s dancing lights that followed-she stopped, turned, put one hand on her hip, and gave Florin a look that wasn’t quite expressionless. “And you became my keeper when? ”
“Pennae,” Islif said, “we’ve talked about this. When we know not where we stand, we stay together until we’re agreed on what we’ll do.”
Dauntless chuckled, and Pennae favored him with a withering look.
Laspeera smiled. “Pennae-no, all of you Knights of Myth Drannor; I’m well aware of your charter and your oaths that accompanied it. Yet I must hear truth from you, here and now: Are you loyal to the Crown of Cormyr?”
“Lady,” Florin replied, “we are.”
“I know your loyalty well, ranger,” Laspeera replied, “but I have yet to be convinced as to that of some of your fellows. You, thief-lass?” Her eyes were steady upon Pennae. When Pennae’s gaze became a challenge, Laspeera let her eyes drop meaningfully to the things that had been Yassandra’s, now hanging from Pennae’s belt, and then stared up into Pennae’s eyes again.