"Very well," Vangerdahast agreed. "Where to begin?"
"We can begin with my expressing, as politely as I can," Alusair said, "what my elder sister is too well-bred and polite to say: how damned angry we both are, wizard, that we didn't even know the Lost Palace was anything more than a legend! You call this preparing us to guide-or in her case, rule-the realm?"
The Royal Magician sighed. "I suppose you'll explode if I say you weren't yet ready to be told such things?"
"Yes," Alusair told him sweetly. "And all over you, too."
Vangerdahast didn't-quite-smile. "Then, being by far the wisest man in all Cormyr, I'll not say that."
Despite het best attempts not to, Princess Tanalasta snorted.
Chapter 19
Drawn Daggers Haunting Me In dark corners of the room I see you Eyes like drawn daggers haunting me Cold so cold my breast you pass through Hunting me, hunting me endlessly Why did you kill yourself and leave me? Dark self-slaying can never be right Hear me my love, I do so want thee Come a-haunting, come chill me this night.
The rapture that had made Onsler Ruldroun babble so excitedly was lessening. He was becoming more and more a watchful, close-mouthed, careful man. His true self, presumably.
"There is one thing I would like to know, Lord," Boarblade said before Ruldroun became even more taciturn. "You impersonated the wizard Gheldaert Howndroe as fire investigator and wrote about that-or did not write about that, rather-in a war wizard duty book. Why? It has set war wizards to being suspicious of each other, and the royal family and certain high-ranking courtiers to watching closely the Wizards of War. Wouldn't it have been wiser to let matters stand as casually as they have always done, with no one's suspicions aroused about anything? Easier for you to work and with less risk of being noticed?"
"Easier is not a goal I strive for," Ruldroun replied, "and never has been. Inside the war wizards, I wanted Howndroe under suspicion so as to hampet his work. Outside their ranks, I wanted the wider realm to foster renewed suspicion that the Wizards of War are corrupt, and deadly conspiracies actively flourish within it, to this day. Wizards suspicious of their fellows are far more likely to hesitate in battle or not risk their own necks as much or even refuse to obey orders they disagree with. I need them that way for my little scheme to work. And as the Lords Yellander and Eldroon discovered, I will do almost anything to aid and further my scheme."
"I thought you were working for them."
"I was-skillfully enough that they thought so, when in ttuth they were doing my bidding, never realizing it. Time and again they ordered me to advance my own aims, thinking the plotting was theirs. Their deaths robbed me of many resources and of the convenience of having them to take the blame for whatever I did but hampered me no more than that. I am merely going to order you to do what they would have sent Brorn Hallomond and Eerikarr Steldurth to do. Get after these Knights, slaughter them without being seen by anyone, get their bodies hidden-or better, devoured or burned to ashes-and gain possession of the Pendant of Ashaba."
Boarblade nodded. "And when they disappear and the pendant of lordship with them? You think Vangerdahast isn't going to send someone to check on the Knights? You think the Harpers won't, with Storm Silverhand living right there? Nor the Witch of Shadowdale meddle?"
Ruldroun gestured with one of his wands as if it were a baton of the Court master-of-pages.
Five amorphous humps emerged out of the folds of the curled and twisted runner-rug and flowed a little way toward Boarblade before rearing up like the arms of eager recruits, foolishly volunteering.
Five hargaunts.
The wizard smiled. "Four men I yet hold will be going with you. You five will become the Knights of Myth Drannor-and I'll bestow memories in you all that will show Khelben Blackstaff working this impersonation."
Boarblade stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"That might work, at that," he said. "But there are six Knights, not five."
Ruldroun shrugged. "You choose which one dies."
"So this Lost Palace of Esparin has been used by Baerauble, Amedahast, Thanderahast, and all the rest for centuries to imprison every last war wizard or other mage in the kingdom who went mad?" Ptincess Tanalasta's incredulity had lifted her voice to a mere shred away from a shriek.
"Well, yes," Vangerdahast said. "As a preferred alternative ro blasting them to death after we've battled them up and down the realm and scared all Cormyreans into fearing creeping madness afflicts every wizard in the process."
"And you've been sending loyal Cormyreans as well as passing opportunists off to unwittingly camp above this place for years, luring rhem with the promise of becoming Baron of the Stonelands?" Alusair said. "Before all the Watching Gods, wizard, you can sit here and say this and dare-dare-to sit in judgment of anyone else in all the realm?"
"Highnesses, Highnesses!" Vangerdahast said hastily. "Tana, Loos, please! This has been policy in Cormyr since its founding. There are mad elves in there, from the days when forests covered the land and your ancestors lived in cottages on the water's edge, clustered around log-wharves that had to be rebuilt after the clawings of the winter ice every spring!" 'And as all men have been dastardly villains before me,' Tanalasta quoted the lines of a play, " 'I find I have no other option but to be dastardly in my turn-' "
"Lasses, please! 'Tis not like that at all!"
"So how then is it, wizard?" Alusair spat. "Convince us with your oh-so-clever tongue!" She drew back her sleeve to reveal a spell-warding amulet chained to it. "And kindly refrain from trying ro spell-cozen my mind. This isn't the only shield against such tricks I'm wearing!"
"Princess! I would never-"
"No-ho? You stlarning well invariably, Thunderspells!"
The Royal Magician of Cormyr stared at her, face red with anger and embarrassment-a face that was now quivering. Then, suddenly, he burst out laughing, hiding his face in his hands, shaking his head, and finally throwing up his hands in surrender.
"Well," he said, when he could speak again, "you have me there. Dead guilty, as accused."
He looked from one simmering princess to the other, seeing no smiles. Triumph glittered in Alusair's eyes, while disappointment ruled Tanalasta.
Sighing, he looked down at his fingettips and told them, "I can see this is going to be a long talk among the three of us. Very well, put yourselves in my boots for a moment. You are newly in the post of Royal Magician, learn of this particular secret of the realm, and-do what? If you don't like binding mad undead spellcasters away in a 'lost' underground stronghold, what then do you do with them? No blustering, please. Try to make that decision calmly."
Silence fell.
Tanalasta pursed her lips. "Are they all mad? Forever?"
Vangerdahast spread his hands. "Who can know? There are scores of them, some of them so old their names have been forgotten, and we have no precise knowledge of their abilities. Some may be failing and diminishing, and some growing stronger. The realm lacks any secure place where we can take them, one at a time, to try to work with them-or on them."
Alusair asked quietly, "Are they all liches?"
"No, but the enchantments of the place seem to turn the living into undead, rather than allowing natural deaths. The imprisoned squabble constantly but rarely seem to destroy each other. There is some evidence that the Lost Palace restores or heals or however you want to term 'repairing damaged undead.' Some of them were foes of the realm in life, some loyal war wizards, some were traitors or noble dabblers who went too far-and some have Obarskyr blood, however illegitimate their births from the view of a herald considering inheritance."