"There's poison on that blade," he told the wizards behind him. "He'll have more. Be careful."
He bent his dark and knowing eyes upon the cowering Rhallogant. "Lord Calandanter, why don't you come with me to where we can sit down while you tell us everything you know about your friend here?"
"Y-y-yes," Rhallogant managed to stammer. "Why don't I?"***** Vangerdahast handed out replacement wands to the three standing with him, and the last of the wall of flames died away entirely behind them.
"There goes the shield at our backs," Laspeera said. "Should we-"
Whatever she was going to ask was drowned out forever as the liches far down the passage hurled powerful spells. Their magics crashed into the unleashed wandfire and wrestled with it, creating a roiling, growing conflagration that surged back toward the four living Cormyreans.
"This is what I feared would happen," the Royal Magician said. "The more we fight, the more their wandering wits sharpen with anger, and they remember how to work spells and clutch at a purpose for doing so."
"Aye," Dalonder Ree agreed wryly. "Destroying us."
"Indeed," Vangerdahast said, watching spell after spell batter the whirling magical chaos, driving it nearer. Some spells were managing to win past the struggle, too, despite the wards he'd devised that reached out'to draw in all manner of magics. Even as a sudden jet of flame scorched the stones not far from Laspeera's ankles, an errant magical whirlwind slammed into the ceiling, shredded the protective magics there, and sent a fall of stone down to crash and tumble just behind Lotbryn Deltalon.
Hastily he thrust his own wands into his belt and set about casting another ward spell. The weavewall Elminster had taught him years ago was designed to draw in all manner of magics, like water sucked down a drain in a spinning whorl, but if it went on too long without discharging its snared effects into a creature and took in too many spells, it might well collapse, spilling wild magic everywhere-or explode, destroying them all anyhail.
The new weavewall melted into the old one, flaring momentarily and taming the snarling magics down into a more circular, solid, and smooth doom that drove closer and closer to the Harper and the three wat wizards.
Nearer…
Now a few paces nearer…
Vangerdahast watched grimly as their fate became obvious. The roiling weavewall drew closer still.
When it touched someone, all the spells it had drawn into itself would rush back out of it into that creature. This one was so large that it would slay in an instant, leaving most of its fell magics to leak out in all directions-and probably slay every other creature left in the passage.
Laspeera and Deltalon were both white with fear now, and Vangerdahast judged that the tight-lipped Harper knew what was coming, too.
"Ree, Deltalon-spread out so you can keep your wands on my weavewall," he ordered, drawing forth the most powerful rod he had from its sheath and twisting it to awaken its magics.
"No, Vangey," Laspeera said softly. "No."
"Yes," he said, striding forward until the roiling weavewall was right in front of him, and raising the black rod as the colorless gems up and down its length flashed excitedly.
"Royal Magician Vangerdahast," Laspeera said, "I believe what you're now about to do is a mistake, and-"
"Laspeera, belt up!" Vangerdahast roared at her. "Open a portal-don't use that one where the door was-and get everyone out! Including Ree and Deltalon! Everyone!"
"Lord Vanger-" she tried to protest.
But he raised his voice in a furious bellow, "Obey me! May the one true Purple Dragon damn you! Just stlarning well obey me!"
Then he said something to the rod and stepped forward into the roiling weavewall. The rod flashed in the heart of that blinding chaos-and the weavewall became a roaring torrent of magic that swept down the passage, shredding liches as it went.
Watching skeletons crumble, small fragments of bone hurtle in all directions, and skulls bounce and shatter, Dalonder Ree and Lorbryn Deltalon both swore softly, the fire of their wands steady and sure.
Shaking her head and turning away so they would not see her tears, Laspeera set about obeying Vangerdahast the Royal Magician.
Wizard of War Gheldaert was never in the best of tempers-even when he awakened from slumber at his own pace. Roused frantically from his bed by several perturbed younger war wizards, he was decidedly not in the best of tempers now.
Glaring around the room full of anxious young faces, he said, "And why should I care that a barn burned down outside Wheloon? Why should I even be told that a barn burned down anywhere? Why should any of you waste your time and tongue-wagging over such trifles? Are you not war wizards? And being so, have you nothing better to do?"
"Gheldaert, this wasn't just any fire!" Rhindin said. "The barn burst like a spell blast and hurled out bolts of lightning in all directions-and balls of green flame that flew everywhere, too!"
"So someone was spellhurling and made a mistake, or two mages decided to hold their little private duel in a barn! I presume you've spent a few spells trying to find out, yes? As the standing orders that Old Thunderspells never tires of reminding us all about insist be done? Or are you telling me all this because someone forgot to do so-or cast the spells but blew himself up, leaving only smoking boots behind? Or just went missing?"
"We're telling you this, Irvgal Gheldaert," came a cold voice from the door, "because the investigator of the fire that destroyed Indarr Andemar's barn wrote his name in the duty book, added the title of a report on his investigation, and then stopped writing, leaving the test of the page blank. And the name he wrote was Gheldaert Howndroe. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
Gheldaert gaped at the person standing in the doorway. "Q-Queen Filfaeril?"
"Ah, war wizards always penetrate my best disguises," the woman in the doorway, who wore no disguise at all-and clearly nothing much at all beneath her clinging silken nightgown-replied in a voice that dripped with acid. "Wherefore I'll expect a full report on this in the morning. Not until then, mind. I have a little private duel of my own to attend to right now. In the Royal Bedchamber."
"Y-yes, Great Queen," Gheldaert managed to reply. "I, uh, I-"
"And while you're at it, Irvgal," the Dragon Queen added over her shoulder, as she turned and strode barefoot out of the room, "you've been following up on that shapeshifting matter in Shadowdale-Craunor Askelo's report, remember? — for some months now. Are you not a war wizard? And being so, have you nothing better to do?"
Gheldaert swallowed, not knowing what to say, then tried to say something. What came out was a heartfelt "Tluin."
He froze, aghast. Gods! He had just said a very impolite word to the Queen of Cormyr.
"Indeed," she replied from down the passage. "That's exactly what I'll be doing. How perceptive of you. With such keenwitted Wizards of War serving us so diligently, there's hope for the realm yet."
Then she added something that sent him staggering to the floor in sudden relief. She chuckled.
It was as dry and gleefully dirty a chuckle as he'd ever heard.
Dalonder Ree blinked, shook himself, and blinked again. He was sranding our of doors on well-trampled ground amid trees. Somewhere. Where was he?
Oh.
The Harper was standing in the camp hollow between the road and the Stagheart ruin, in the bright moonlight of a calm, warm night.
In just the same mannet as he was blinking and staring around Lorbryn, Tsantress, and two of the Knights of Myth Drannor-the ranger Florin and the fighting-lass Islif, both looking more than a little dazed-were staring around at the hollow, at each other, and down at themselves.
Those glances down showed them the Wizard of War Laspeera lying face-up and senseless on the ttampled turf between them, clutching the broken and smoking ends of wands in both her hands.