Florin was hurled away in that raging flood, and Islif after him, her grip on the false Jhessail lost.
Slammed hard into the paneled walls, winded and heaped atop each other, the Knights gasped amid sudden relief, as rainbow-hued protective magics surged up out of the wood to drive back the emerald flames a foot or so from their noses.
The flames slowly died away, leaving the lich with the staff standing in triumph as ft surveyed the twisted bodies heaped along the back wall of the dead end.
It didn't seem to notice the man standing right in front of it, alone in the open space its spell had cleated-the seemingly unharmed man the false Jhessail had tutned into.
Tall, slender, and darkly handsome, wearing stylish black boots, breeches, tunic, and half-cloak, the man regarded the Knights of Myth Drannor with a half smile.
Semoor gaped up at him. "And who in the Nine Hells ate you?"
"Ah, adventurers," the man sneered. "Always so eloquent."
"Get after her," Baerent said. "Be her shadow; stick to her like tight new hose, no matter how much she spits and snarls. See where she goes and who she speaks to."
Barely waiting for Mrask's nod, Baerent trotted across the street and bounded up the Moontouch stairs.
The guard was waiting for him, sword already drawn.
"I'm a war wizard," Baerent said. "Stand aside!"
"No," the guard replied. "Vangey and I have an agreement on this, and I'll not-"
Baerent cast the spell he had ready, shrugged, and strode past the now-motionless guard, who would not be a statue for long. But long enough.
Flinging wide the door of the Touch, he stepped into the parlor where Daransa stood by the tea table. "Goodwoman," said Baerent, "I speak with the full authority of the Crown, and I musr ask you-"
"Ah, Wizard of War Baerent Orninspur!" a new voice interrupted. A door behind Daransa's little desk opened, and a tall, shapely, silver-haired woman strode into the room.
Baerent blinked. How could someone recognize him before they even saw him? His amulet would prevent scrying or warn him of more powerful magOh. Spyholes. Of course.
"Tea?" Daransa offered, nothing but pleasant welcome on her face.
Baerent looked from one woman to the other and decided bluster was no longer his best option. "I regret the abruptness of my intrusion," he said, "and I intend no harm to any in this place. I merely-"
"Burst in here," Dove interrupted, "after your scrying spell failed-and that of your companion Mrask. Then you thought to bully Daransa into revealing why Princess Alusair was here. What she said, and what she did, too. My, but Vangey is suspicious these days!"
"But I-" Baerent sputtered, then took a deep breath, waved his hand in a calming gesture directed more at himself than anyone else, and asked, "Lady, forgive me, but who are you? I have my suspicions, but-"
"All war wizards do, which is the root of our trouble here," the silver-haired woman replied with a pleasant smile, coming closer. "As I see it, you are here on duty, bound to uncover the private and personal business of a princess, and to that you have now added the little task of trying to learn how a few elegant professional playpretties can block your magics-and to do a little bullying to drench them in fear, so you can forbid them from ever trying to do so again, and hope to be obeyed. Have I stated truth?"
Baerent blinked again. "Lady, you can hardly expect me to discuss such matters with… with-"
"Someone whose name you don't even know? Yet I do expect you to confirm truth and to speak openly and fully when dealing with someone who just might be one of those you are supposed to serve. You serve the citizens of Cormyr, remember? Lording it over them is your own embellishment. Or Vangerdahast's. Speaking of which, you are not to say one wordabout any of this to him. Beginning with my name, which is Dove."
Baerent blinked once more. "Ah, the Dove?" Without awaiting a reply, he rushed on into more dangerous words. "I could hardly fail to notice that you just gave me an order-or tried to. Lady Dove, you must appreciate that I cannot accept orders from anyone but-"
Dove waved away the rest of his words. "Call it a suggestion, then," she said with a gentle smile, strolling still closer. "I am suggesting that if you forget about all that has happened since you saw the princess cross the Promenade, and depart this house right now without trying to seek any answers or give any commands in the Moontouch now or ever again, I will probably see my way clear to letting you keep your life."
"My life?"
"Yes. If you just go back to yon Royal Palace right now and refrain from ever bothering Daransa or any of her ladies again. And refrain from saying anything about this to Vangerdahast."
Baerent stared at her. He suddenly believed that this strikingly beautiful woman was one of the fabled Chosen of Mystra and the "highly dangerous," active-in-Cormyr Harper all war wizards were often warned about. But more than that, he believed she could-and would-do just what she was promising. To him.
"B-but, Lady," he managed to protest, "the Royal Magician! He looks into our minds and sees our memories! Even if I say nothing, he'll know of your, ah, demands."
Dove's gentle smile widened. "Yes, he will, won't he? Perhaps he'll even recognize them for the clear warning they are and take heed. For once."
Eyes steady on his, she then gave a gentle toss of her head that was. clearly a directive to him to seek the door behind him and depart.
Baerent hastened to obey, discovering something else as he passed the still-motionless guard and stumbled back down the stair. He was shivering in fear.
Wizard of War Lorbryn Deltalon stood on the familiar high ledge, looking out over rhe forest. He shook his head.
"Well, well," he told the wind. "It seems I make a livelier Laspeera than I'd ever thought to be-certainly more flirtatious than she's ever likely to be. I think."
Well, well, indeed. Yet it had worked, and that was the main thing.
He shook his head again, smiling ruefully. "Whew."
He hadn't had occasion to teleporr here often in recent seasons, but this crag in the forest often served the war wizards as a lookout. He wasn't all that far from the bullyblade he'd just left. He should really be getting back to Suzail, but… he'd always liked this spot.
It was probably his favorite place in all Faerun for just standing alone, thinking.
Lotbryn used it that way now, as his true form slowly melted back.
He was doing the right thing.
At long last, he was working for the best outcome for Cormyr.
Borh the Knights of Myth Drannor and the band of Purple Dragons led by the ornrion Dauntless were Vangerdahast's agents, he felt certain-and Vangey had sent them out here, along the Ride, to accomplish something.
Just what, he didn't know yet, but Brorn just might help him find out.
The bullyblade wasn't stupid. He might want to bury those coins swiftly to avoid being found with something Lorbryn could claim had been stolen. Yet he'd need a few coins in his purse right now, just to live on.
Six coins on top of each sack had tracer spells cast on them that would enable Lorbryn to know their whereabouts at will.
He smiled into the breeze as he readied himself to teleport back to the Royal Palace.
So this was how Vangerdahast felt, sitting like a spider at the center of an ever-expanding web of plots and little schemes.
Lorbryn's smile widened.
Wincing, Florin struggled to his knees. His skin raged with fire blisters of the like he'd not felt since his days at the forge back in Espar, and his body ached as if he'd been punched hard, all over, for most of a day.
His sword was lost somewhere under Jhessail-the real Jhessail, he reminded himself dazedly-and a half-empty water flask didn't seem that formidable a weapon to use on either a lich or someone who could shrug off that humbling spell.