secret door opened in another pillar, and a grim line of Purple Dragons strode out to stand with drawn swords, barring the way of the conspirator nobles.
A grim Lareth Gulur led the soldiers, and the center of their line was anchored by his superior, Hathian Talar. Most were battle-scarred veterans, but at the end of the line stood a new recruit, uncomfortable in his stiff new uniform, but whose sword twitched with eagerness. All the Purple Dragons bent their burning eyes on the luxuriously dressed young nobles.
“More foul magic indeed,” the Royal Magician said into the deep silence. “Think for a moment of just how well a hundred nobles would fare if they were ever sent against a hundred war wizards.”
Aunadar Bleth smiled crookedly and said in silken tones, “I have done so-and have an answer: a blade that I am confident can cut down a hundred war wizards!” He raised his hand and made a quick, intricate gesture as he called, “Hear us, Lady Brantarra! Attend us, Red Wizardess of Murbant!”
A moment later, as everyone in the chamber watched in breathless silence, a cluster of moving, winking lights appeared at Bleth’s shoulder, and a low, purring voice that carried from end to end of that hall spoke out of it.
“Greetings, Vangerdahast, Royal Magician of Cormyr. Call me Brantarra-call me your nemesis. Long have you wondered who it was who shielded rebels and contrary nobles and outlaws from your seeking spells, and who protected them against your magic of rulership and punishment. I stand ready now to shield all the other nobles of Cormyr who desire such protection-from you and your petty magelings. I am the bane of the war wizards. I am the one who has frustrated you for so long.”
Vangerdahast shifted and stirred on the step where he stood but said nothing. The triumphant voice rolled on.
“You think these were your masterminds, these clever young nobles unable to see beyond the ends of their swords? Mine was the hand that stole the abraxus from your precious vaults. Mine was the hand that guided these pawns before you. Mine was the skill that took your king’s will, on a night eighteen years ago, in the sight of the walls of Arabel. Mine was the body that bore the son who will be your next king!”
Aunadar Bleth’s head snapped around in surprise. He gaped at the sparkling, circling lights as the voice from the heart of them added, “Know, nobles of Cormyr, that the war wizards you fear so much will be shattered within the season and gone utterly soon after-as I and those mages loyal to me ensure that each war wizard is hunted to extinction.”
There was a brief but sharp chorus of gasps and murmurs from the courtiers crowded up against Cat’s barrier. The next words spoken, though they were soft, cut that noise off as if a knife had fallen across their throats.
“And who will protect Cormyr against the Red Wizardess and her wizards then?” Vangerdahast asked mildly, taking another step down from the throne. Giogi and Dauneth moved with him, their eyes watchful.
“Protect Cormyr against me?” came the low, rich voice out of the lights. “Why? I know and love the realm well. I have borne a son by King Azoun to prove it. A future king…”
More murmurs, and even some laughter, came from the crowd of watching courtiers just inside the entrance to the hall. The gathering of lights hissed a deep curse and the laughter quieted, but the murmurs continued. Even the densest courtiers realized the minimal value of an unrecognized son of Azoun.
Tanalasta cast a look at the dark doorway where she’d seen the figure that counseled her to silence, and then looked away again.
“This land has had enough of kings,” Aunadar Bleth said firmly, “and despite what you have just heard her say, this Red Wizardess and I have a solemn agreement on this point. I know not the measure of Thayvians, but noble families of Cormyr keep their word and expect others to do the same.”
“Do they?” Vangerdahast’s voice was as soft as silk, or the edge of an oversharpened dagger. “I am pleased to hear of this new shift in their natures.”
Aunadar Bleth showed anger for the first time, tossing back his head to glare up at the old wizard. “Don’t bandy words about falsehoods with me, wizard. For over a thousand years and more, the Bleths have served the crown of Cormyr well, fighting and dying for their country. Yet somehow the Obarskyrs they served so loyally managed to overlook the Bleths time and time again. One can grow used to being taken advantage of, but one need not grow to like it. Now the blood of the Obarskyrs has run weak indeed, and the Bleths shall be overlooked no longer. Now will come the ultimate service to the Obarskyrs and to Cormyr: the fusion of the proud lineage of Cormyr’s two oldest families into one bloodline-a Bleth bloodline that shall not hold the Dragon Throne in a tight- taloned tyrant’s grasp, but share rule over the Forest Country with all of its people.” He turned to the crown princess and smiled coldly. “The power I have come to love.”
Tanalasta’s lips trembled for a moment as she struggled to find the words she wanted to say, but when she did speak, her voice was firm and high and clear.
“I am shocked, Aunadar Bleth, to learn that you love me only for my station and lineage and the power you can wield through me. Do you care so little for Tanalasta the woman?”
There was triumph in the young noble’s eyes as he looked into hers and shrugged. “It matters little if I love you or you me,” he said callously. “What matters is that the power of the Obarskyrs be dashed down, and the wheel of time move this land into brighter, fairer times that all citizens can agree with. The old Cormyr died with your father-its last king.”
There was a gasp and stir that rose almost to a shriek as the figure that had skulked in the shadows of the doorway strode slowly and purposefully into the room. When the watching crowd saw the crown glittering on its head, their cries died into instant heavy silence.
“I find your presumptions a trifle premature, young Bleth,” said a voice that everyone in the room knew, “and I order your surrender. Kneel to me, your true and rightful king, Azoun Obarskyr, a man who, despite your best efforts, is not dead just yet.”
Aunadar Bleth turned white and swallowed. He looked quickly around the room, as if seeking ways to escape, and then drew himself up proudly, eyes blazing. “No. I am no lesser man than you. Why should I kneel to a man whose time is past and whose morals demean us all? Why should I kneel to a man who should be dead!”
“Why,” the low voice from the lights at Bleth’s shoulder purred, “should you kneel to a dead man?”
A coldly, darkly beautiful female face rose into view among the whirling radiances. It was a face Vangerdahast had seen before, the night before the fall of Arabel. From its eyes leapt two red, ravening beams of light.
The nobles standing with Gaspar Cormaeril screamed and ducked for cover as the magical beams cut through their ranks and stabbed at the king.
The rays burst into raging flames upon striking an unseen barrier. The eye beams clawed futilely at a barrier that shielded the grimly smiling Azoun and washed out along it, revealing the true dimensions of the barrier.
The barrier was anchored at three points. One point was the sorceress Cat, who held aloft a small white oval, a talisman of protective power. The other two points were in the hitherto empty minstrels’ balcony, high above the king, where two people rose stiffly, holding similar talismans. One of the two in the balcony was a Harper with hair the color of honey and eyes like two dancing flames-Emthrara. The other was a bright-eyed, unshaven merchant dealer in turret tops and spires named Rhauligan.
Ripples of Brantarra’s ruby-red radiance rushed across the barrier now, streaming toward the three ovals at its extremities, and then reflected back, like ripples in a small fountain, to its center. The flames meeting there flickered, pulsed, and burst forth as a great reaching tongue of fire, which roared back at the face in the light with frightening speed and fury
The Red Wizardess screamed. Her features vanished under the onslaught of her own returned magic, and sobbing howls of pain echoed off the vaulted ceiling of the hall for a moment before the lights winked, flashed bright again-and the agonized face was gone.
In its place stood something gleaming and golden, something that stood like an upright, motionless bull.
“The abraxus!” a dozen voices exclaimed in horrified unison. Aunadar Bleth smiled tightly and said, “Thank you, wizardess, for restoring my clockwork toy. It needs a human soul to power its magical engine, and my lady Brantarra has thought even of that!” He placed his hand along the back of the golden beast. There was the sharp click of a switch being thrown, and Aunadar pointed at Gaspar Cormaeril. “I have need of your noble spirit, Gaspar!” shouted Aunadar.
Gaspar Cormaeril screamed. The noble allies who previously stood alongside him now scattered like
