held their hungry eyes as she flashed the unicorn-adorned Royal Ring of Galadorna.
Two sets of eyes widened, and looked slowly and more soberly up from the coins and the curves to the face above…where they found an impish grin followed by a tongue just darting into view between parted lips.
'Come,' she said, 'if you dare … to a place where we can.. have more fun.'
The watching wizards saw the two men hesitate and exchange glances. Then one of them said something, lifting his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner, and they both laughed rather nervously, drained their tankards, and rose. The queen looped her chain of coins around the wrist of one of them and towed him playfully off across the dim and crowded maze of tables, beaded curtains, and archways that formed the backbone of the Goblet.
Blue silk and supple leather swayed very close past the innocently tilted noses of Beldrune and Tabarast. When the second warrior had stalked past…hungry eyes, hairy arms and all…the two mages with one accord drained their heartsfires, turned to each other and turned red at the same time, tugged at their collars again, and cleared their throats once more.
Tabarast rumbled, 'Ah…I think it's time to see the bottom of more than one tankard … don't you?'
'My thoughts exactly,' Beldrune agreed. 'After a keg or three of beer, now, mind you. …'
Deep in the dimness behind a pillar in the Goblet of Shadows, an elf whose face might have been cut from cold marble watched Queen Dasumia of Galadorna tow her two prizes out of the tumult. When they'd rounded a corner, out of sight, Ilbryn Starym turned his head to sneer down at the two blushing old wizards, who didn't see him. Then he glided off through the Goblet toward the exit he knew the queen would use, taking care to keep well back and well hidden.
Rhoagalow had brought word of another murder and a knifing whose victim might live. Elminster had handed him a hand keg of Burdym's Best from the royal cellar and told him to go somewhere safe and out of uniform to drink it.
Now the Court Mage of Galadorna was striding wearily bedward, looking forward to some solid hours of staring up into the darkness and getting some real thinking work done on the governance of a feud-festering little kingdom. Perhaps there'd be another assassination attempt in the wee hours.
El's mood had a sword edge to it just now, an ache was already raging in his head from dealing with sharp- tongued merchants all day. Moreover, he couldn't seem to put an idea out of his mind…a rumor abroad in Nethrar courtesy of the two old bumbling mages from Moonshorn Tower, who seemed to have followed him here, that 'Dasumia' was the name of the dread sorceress called the Lady of Shadows, could she and the queen somehow be related?
Hmmm. El sighed again, for perhaps the seven hundredth time this day, and out of habit glanced along the side corridor his passage had brought him to.
Then he came to a dead halt and peered long and hard. Someone very familiar was crossing the corridor farther down, using a passage parallel to his own. It was the queen, clad in blue silks and leather and chains like a tavern dancer…and she was leading two young men, warriors by their harness, whose hands and lips were hard at work upon her person as she led them along … out of view, and into a part of the House of the Unicorn Elminster had never yet visited. Cold fear stirred deep in his vitals as he recognized those two ardent men as his sometime tools against her, Delver and Ingrath.
His headache started to pound in earnest as he caught up his robes and sprinted as quietly but as swiftly as he could down the corridor toward the place where he'd seen Dasumia disappear. It was better not to use a concealment spell now, in case his Lady Master had a trailing spelltell active.
The queen was making no effort at stealth. The high, tinkling laugh she used as false flattery rang out as El reached the corner he thought was the right one and began hopping from pillar to pillar.
There followed the sounds of a slap, Delver's voice telling a jest he couldn't catch the words of, and more laughter. El abandoned stealth for haste as he saw the passage they'd used end at an archway. He was just in time to see the amorous trio leave the far end of that empty, echoing room through another arch.
One dark and disused chamber proved to lead into another, through a succession of open archways, and El took care to keep out of sight of anyone glancing back, and freeze whenever the sounds ahead ceased. He'd worked his way back to being a single chamber behind when some trick of eddying air currents made the voices of those he was following startlingly loud.
'Where by all the gods of battle are you
'Uh,
Dasumia laughed again, a deep, hearty sound of pleasure this time. 'Keep that hand right where it is, bold warrior … and no, don't-be-gentle-sirs, we're heading nowhere near the dungeons. You have a royal promise on that!'
El crept to the next archway like a hunting cat and peered around its edge…in time to hear the rattle of a beaded curtain, unseen around a corner, parting. Light flared out from beyond it, El took a chance, danced across the room to that corner, and took another chance: across the open, lit way they'd taken was another curtain. He could hide behind it and see into the lit area, if he just darted across the open way at the right moment not to be seen.
Now? He darted, halted, and tried to bring his breathing back to soundlessness, all in a handful of instants. He used the next handful, and the next, to stare at where the queen had taken her catches.
The brightly lit area beyond the curtains was only an antechamber, an archway in its far wall opened into a place lit by a red, evil-looking radiance. Flanking that arch were two fully armored guardians, with their visors down and curving sabers raised in their gauntlets…warriors without feet, whose ankle stumps were gliding along inches above the stone floor without ever touching it. Helmed horrors, men called them, magically animated armor that could slay as surely as living armsmen.
El watched them start menacingly forward, only to halt at a gesture from the queen. Dasumia strode between them without stopping, towing her living warriors, and El stole along boldly in their wake, watching those raised sabers narrowly. Before he reached the helmed horrors, they wheeled around and floated along after the trio, sheathing their swords soundlessly. El brought up the rear, moving very cautiously now.
The chamber beyond was very large and very dark, its only light coming from a glowing ruby-hued tapestry at the far end, a tapestry that displayed a black device larger than many cottages El had seen: the Black Hand of Bane.
The aisle that ran down the center of the temple was lined with braziers. As Dasumia strode between each pair of them, they burst spontaneously into flame. Delver and Ingrath were obviously having second thoughts about their royal night of passion, El could dearly hear them gulping as they slowed and had to be dragged along by Dasumia.
There were pews on either side of the aisle, some of them occupied by slumped skeletons in robes, others by mummified or still-rotting corpses. El ducked into an empty row, crouching low to the floor, he knew what must be corning.
'No!' Ingrath cried suddenly, twisting free of the queen's grasp and whirling around to flee. He moaned despairingly, an instant before Delver tore free of the chain of coins, began his own sprint…and screamed.
The two helmed horrors had been floating right behind them, gauntleted hands out and ready to close on their throats. Those steely fingers beckoned to them now, as the empty helms leaned horribly closer.
Moaning in despair, the two guardsmen turned back to face the queen. Dasumia was lying on the altar, propped up on one elbow and wearing rather less than she'd entered the temple with. Laughingly she beckoned them.
Reluctantly, the two warriors stumbled forward.
Ten: To Taste Dark Fire
The best thing an archmage can do with his spells? Use them to destroy another archmage, of course…and himself in the doing. We'll plant something useful in the ashes.
