It crackled into riven boneshards and dust under him, and he clutched himself to lessen the inevitable agony of coughing and sneezing that followed. When at last that was done, Brorn clawed the lid back down, rolled to the crack in the stone so he could breathe, and lay still, waiting for weariness to overcome pain and let him sleep.
Thank whatever gods had smiled upon him. When that war wizard lass-Santress, or whatever her name was-discovered her little token missing, it would probably be about then that she'd remember that a certain bullyblade had vanished from the hollow where all the healing was going on, too.
Hopefully she wouldn't be mule-headed enough to come back here looking for him.
Though most war wizards were just that, stlarn it.
He felt for the dagger at his belt, so he could be ready if she did haul back the lid. Hah. A dagger against her wands. And probably those of half-a-dozen more oh-so-brave Wizards of War.
Still, 'twas the best he could do. He was only Lord Yellander's bullyblade, not Lord Yellander. Yet.
"Night fog, and we're getting into rising rocks," Florin muttered. "I don't like the looks of this."
"Rocks at least ate a solid shield at our backs," Islif said. "I've yet to find a tree, however large, that I dared trust as much."
"We must stand watch," Pennae said from ahead of them all, "and find some shelter we can defend. Even if we have to butcher some bear or other and take his cave."
"Adventure," Jhessail said in an acidic voice that struggled along the edge of a yawn.
"Up there," Doust said, pointing a little way up a slope of loose stones on their left that turned into a cliff face farther up. "That overhang. If we sleep up there, nothing that doesn't have wings can get to us without making a lot of noise."
"Rolling rocks aplenty down to the Ride under their feet, or claws, or slithery belly," Pennae agreed. "Well spotted,' Luck of Tymora."
"Lathander smiles upon us too!" Semoor said.
"I've heard far better bed-me lines," the thief told him almost kindly. "Now, the swifter you get yourself up there and bedded down, the sooner you can be praying to the Morninglord to keep us alive to see his next glorious morning-and the faster we'll all get some sleep."
Semoor sighed, beckoned Doust, and started climbing.
"Sleep fully clad, boots and all," Islif put in, watching Semoor leading Doust gingerly up the slippery slope of sliding, tumbling stones. Then she looked at Florin and grinned. "Guess camp's been decided, valiant leader."
"I'm not our leader," Florin said wearily.
"Oh, yes, you are," Jhessail told him quietly. "You just happen to lead some adventurers afflicted with the minds of jesters that succeed in bursting out and conquering their wirs from time to time." She started up the slope, unbound red hair swirling around her shoulders.
A little way up she stopped, looked back at him over one shoulder, and asked, "Tuck me in, valiant leader?" Florin hoped she was teasing.
"Their names were Harreth and Yorlin," the young Wizard of War said to Vangerdahasr as they stood gazing at the two corpses in rhe dungeon cell. "We've learned that much. Worked for the ttaitor Lord Yellander. I know not how Harreth got down here or how he thought he'd free Yorlin, but whatever he did failed and killed them both."
The Royal Magician sighed. "A reasonable enough conclusion, lad-but wrong. Yorlin may be hanging in yon spell chains now, but he wasn't the prisoner I put in here nor the prisoner who was in here yestereve, when last I scryed the deep cells. There's a man missing from this cell, a war wizard trairor, and Wouldn't be a daring wager to say he was freed through the actions of these two and rewarded them for it by slaying them." His mouth crooked into a smile of sorts. "Come to think of it, 'twas a reward, indeed."
The young war wizard blinked. "Ir was?"
"However he killed them, they enjoyed swifter and less painful deaths than I'd have given them for loosing Onsler Ruldroun upon the realm again."
"Father!" Torsard Spurbright's shout was shrill with genuine excitement. His sire hastened to hide the little note from Silverymoon he'd been re-reading, by using it to mark his place in the thick tome-a history of the life of Baerauble of Cormyr-he was currently leading. He closed the book just in time, as the younger Lord Spurbright burst into the room.
"Have vou heard rhe news? A war wi7.ard traitor's esraned from the dungeons under the Royal Court-the deep cells!"
Lord Elvarr Spurbright lifted both of his bushy eyebrows. "The deep cells?"
"Yes! Rude Rune or suchlike, he's called! He's been hanging down there in spell chains because there's something precious in his mind, so Old Thunderspells can't just kill him. Have you ever heard the like?"
The elder Lord Spurbright nodded slowly. "I have, as it happens. Whence came this news? And had it any warning attached to it?"
Torsard waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, the usual, 'Mind under your beds-he's everywhere! Everywhere!' clap-cackle!"
"Cackle that was first uttered by whom?" Elvarr asked again patiently.
His son blinked. "Oh. Ah, the Princess Alusair, they're saying." Lord Elvarr Spurbright winced, then chuckled. "Oho. Dearest Vangerdahast isn't going to be pleased by that."
"My old friend Yellander repaid me well. Those dolts didn't know who I was, but they certainly knew where I was and what they had to bring to me. They even brought along his written instructions, to make certain they did everythingy «rf right."
"And?"
"And I killed them, of course. Using the spell I'd been thirsting so long to use again-the spell, by the way, that means you dare not try to betray me-I drank their lives. Which is why I'm grinning like this. The life-energy of three men is raging in me like a flame!"
Telgarth Boarblade kept his face carefully expressionless. He had wondered why a man he remembered as a cold-eyed, veteran war wizard was babbling like a gloating maniac. So he hadn't been rescued by a complete madwits, after all-just someone mostly mad-witted.
So, does taking a threefold life need three fatal blade thrusts? Something to ponder…
Onsler Ruldroun babbled on. "The beauty of it is, Vangerdahast can't lay the smallest spell on me! No realm can confine me, and no-"
"What's that? "Boarblade snapped to shut off this flow of insanity. He cocked his head and turned as if he'd heard something.
The war wizard or, Boarblade supposed, ex-war wizard-what did they officially do to war wizard traitors, anyhail, besides execute them? — fell blessedly silent. His eyes narrowed, and he thrust his head forward to listen intently.
Then he waved his hand in a swift spell.
After a moment, he nodded, scooped something from a belt pouch, and handed it to Boarblade. It was a small, ordinary-looking stone.
"Well done, Boarblade. You repay my freeing of you already. Throw that at the man you'll find skulking outside. Hit him with it, but throw it slowly, mind. Underhanded, like a little girl swinging her arm back and forth to throw something as high as she can."
Boarblade nodded, not asking for an explanation, but the bright-eyed wizard gave him one anyway.
"I need time to speak the awakening word, whilst the stone is in the air-to turn it deadly to the next living thing it touches."
"There's only the one person outside?" Boarblade asked quietly, wondering what innocent he'd doomed by his ruse-but not caring much-as he hefted the stone in his hand. "I can't mistake my target?"
"Just the one man. Throw slowly, remember." Boarblade nodded and went out. Well, he'd worked for worse masters.
As the two princesses settled themselves in the chairs to which the Royal Magician had waved them, Vangerdahasr himself closed and bolted the door, took up a wand from a sidetable close to it, and cast a careful spell that made the walls, floor, and ceiling all glow a deep, rich blue.