Islif took hold of Semoor’s arm and hauled him to his feet, away from the guard-who promptly launched himself into a frantic run that lasted for only a single stride before Islif’s deftly outstretched leg sent him sprawling.
Pennae landed on the Purple Dragon’s back, bounced hard, and drawled, “I wonder how he’ll look after a little slicing?”
She let the man see the knife before she cut the rear strap of his codpiece, and was rewarded with a whimper and a frantic attempt to escape that ended, this time, with Florin hauling the man to his feet-and then off his feet and up against the wall, kicking helplessly with Florin’s hand around his throat.
The ranger said to the guard, “We serve the Crown of Cormyr just as you do. The king himself signed our charter; the queen knighted us and gave us her blessing. We’re trying to save the realm right now. We need to get to the Dragondown Chambers, where as you well know there will be war wizards aplenty, who will promptly and firmly stop us if they judge us disloyal. We need directions. Please give them.”
“Or I’ll continue,” Pennae added lightly, “with this.” Lifting the armored Purple Dragon codpiece aside, she pressed the point of her knife against the revealed leather beneath, just enough for the man to feel it.
“I-uh-don’t let her! Ah-”
“My arm,” Florin informed the guard, “is growing tired. There will soon come a time when I let you fall. And then-”
Pennae swiftly moved the knife to press upward beneath bulging leather, where it could be felt. Its owner swallowed and then said in a rush, “Take the passage with the spyholes to the second way-moot! Turn left there, and go to the end. There’s a cross-way and two doors. Either one opens into a Dragondown Chamber!”
“ Thank you,” Florin said gently. “It’s been a pleasure talking with you, saer.”
“Go to sleep now,” Jhessail whispered, and cast the spell that would send the Purple Dragon into deep slumber.
Florin lowered the man gently to the stone floor. “So, which passage is the one with the spyholes?”
“This one,” Pennae said, starting off into the darkness. The rest of the Knights rushed after her.
“So this is being a hero,” Doust muttered, as he started to pant again. “None of the minstrels ever sing about all the running! ”
“How’d you know the right passage,” Semoor called to Pennae. “Or do you know the right passage?”
Pennae gave him a grin back over her shoulder. “Of course. See those?” She pointed at a few tiny glows along the passage wall ahead.
“Glowfire paint,” Islif murmured.
“Aye. Marking little swivel-panels that can be swung aside to look through a spyhole; there must be a room on the other side of this wall that the war wizards or Highknights have occasion to watch folk in. The ladies’ baths, perhaps.”
“I see,” Islif said. “And how is it that you recognize these spyholes at a glance, hmm?”
As she ran on, Pennae started to hum an oh-so-innocent little tune by way of reply.
Greenwood, Ed
Swords of Dragonfire
Chapter 19
And at the looked-for death of kings
When hungry vultures gather
Look you for the most reluctant to retire
And you’ll see the proudest titles,
The most gleaming gems
And the brightest fangs.
The Calishite wizard yawned. “Merchant Haerrendar, never try to threaten me again. Or should I call you Bravran Merendil?”
His host went as white as winter snow. “You know!” he gasped.
“Of course. It is the business of Talan Yarl to know such things.” The wizard’s smile was jovial as he stroked his scented, immaculately trimmed beard, but his eyes were ice cold.
“Moreover,” he added, “your threats are unnecessary. When Talan Yarl is bought, he stays bought. You have blundered; pray refrain from doing so again. You intend a little regicide at this revel, do you not?”
The man Suzail knew as Ostagus Haerrendar, dealer in barrels, kegs, and pipes, stepped back, shuddering. It was some moments before he swallowed and said faintly, “It seems to be your business to know all things, no matter how secret or dangerous to know.”
“It is more than my business; it is my life, or rather, the reason I still have one. Yet that does not mean I ever approach knowing all, merely that I like to know who I’m truly dealing with. Doing so, I find, saves excess spilled blood.”
The Calishite looked down at the still form on the table between them. “This would be Rellond Blacksilver, known to many young noble ladies of your realm as ‘Rellond the Roughshod’ for his crude and impatient lovemaking. A rake and a wastrel I expected to see dead and buried long ago, with some angry noble father’s sword having relieved him of both his life and what fills his codpiece. Yet I see that he lives. Drugged or enspelled. This worthless braggart has something to do with your cunning plan?”
“Drugged,” Merendil said stiffly. “And there’s no need to mock my cleverness-or lack of it. I’m paying you very well.”
“That is true. Your gold should be sufficient to make me contentedly accept any idiocy you might offer, I’ll grant. Yet humor me, Merendil. Unfold to me your scheme. I really want to hear it. Truly.”
“If your magic is sufficient to accomplish control of this man’s mind,” the nobleman said carefully, “Rellond Blacksilver will… do the deed. Stabbing the King of Cormyr during the dancing. Outraged, you will then reduce him to ashes-regrettably too late to save Azoun, but-”
“I will do no such thing, idiot. If I am using a spell to control your dupe, the war wizards will detect it before he or I am anywhere near the king, and we shall both be imprisoned and later mind-reamed and executed.”
“Ah, but you won’t be using a spell on Blacksilver!”
“Oh? How, then?”
“There’s a mindworm in his brain. You’ve heard of them?”
“I have indeed.” Talan Yarl looked thoughtful. “I know of only one mage who uses them successfully-and he had to flee Halruaa and go into hiding in Turmish to keep his life, after word spread. Is this his work?”
“I know not. The mage who did it-name unknown to us, but we believe he was an outlander-first placed a worm in a young noble lass, who in turn infected Blacksilver and some others. He has since disappeared. We believe Vangerdahast’s pet war wizards got him.”
“So how did you learn of this worm?”
“Though the mage-again, we believe-never knew it, he was being spied upon by War Wizard Sarmeir Landorl, who was working with me.”
“A war wizard. So I am necessary how, exactly? Are you and Landorl seeking a scapegrace? A dupe to be blamed for your villainy?”
“No! I need you to do this, because, well… Landorl’s disappeared.”
“Vangerdahast’s war wizards again?”
“We-we think so.”
“ ‘We’? Who is this ‘we’? You and-?”
Merendil reddened. “My mother.”
“Your mother? Oh, brave conspirator, to make war on kings with your aged mother? What is she-fivescore years old, by now? A bedridden bag of bones, or a grave you stand over and murmur questions by night?”
“I am not quite either of those things, yet,” a sharp voice said from just behind Talan Yarl’s ear. “Just as the poison on this dagger you’re feeling hasn’t entirely faded away either. Now, are you with us? Not that I’m sure how much of a choice you have, O Yarl who stays bought. I very much doubt that we can let you walk out of here, knowing what you now know.”
Talan Yarl had stiffened at the first touch of the dagger point, eyes widening in utter astonishment. Nothing should have been able to approach him unawares, let alone pass through his shielding spell without him even noticing. He took great care not to move, though he wanted very much to see the Lady Merendil.