Elminster Enraged

With a wordless snarl Farland was on his feet and out from behind the desk, striding hard.

He didn’t reach the door before a cold voice said from the passage, “There you are! The next time I give you an order, sirrah, you will obey it or spend time as a frog! Running away is not the conduct I expect from-”

“And just who by the Dragon Who Rules Us All are you?” Farland’s roar was loud enough to leave ears ringing, but the cold-voiced new arrival was unperturbed.

“Another lout of a soldier! Salute and then belt up, man! I’ll give the orders here!”

“My, my,” Arclath told Amarune, “this is better than a play!”

“Belt up!” Farland and the new arrival both shot at Arclath in unison, ere returning to the evidently more pleasurable activity of glaring at each other, nose to nose.

“I’m the lord constable of Irlingstar,” Farland growled, “and in the name of the king-”

“In the name of the king, you will obey me,” the new arrival said icily. “For I am Wizard of War Nostyn Vandur, leader of an elite investigative force of war wizards sent here by the Crown to investigate the murder of seneschal of Irlingstar Marthin Avathnar. Accordingly, I am now in command of this castle and everyone in it.”

He stabbed a finger at Farland’s chest. “You are a suspect, and as such unfit to remain in command of anything, until my investigation is complete. I-”

“Until I receive orders from the king himself relieving me,” Farland snarled, “I am in command here in Irlingstar. You could be any raving fool-or an outlaw, or some charlatan mage out of Sembia hired by any of the prisoners-claiming to be a wizard of war. Continue like this, and I’ll have you in chains in a cell right soonish, where you can order the walls around until you’re out of breath!”

“Careful,” Arclath murmured. “If he’s a puissant mage, he’ll be quite able to order the walls around. Ask him if he knows Glathra.”

Farland shot his newest male prisoner a murderous look, then turned back to confront Vandur-only to discover that the wizard of war, or the man claiming to be a wizard of war, had stepped around him and was sitting down behind Farland’s own desk.

The lord constable drew his sword.

Nostyn Vandur regarded him scornfully. “Surrender that,” he ordered. “Now.”

He pointed at the gleaming top of the desk, and when Farland made no move to relinquish his blade, he tapped it in a clear signal.

“Put it down,” Vandur snapped, as one might to a mischievous puppy.

“No,” Farland snarled. “Get up from that desk or I’ll carve you.”

Vandur ignored him, calling out to the passage, “Gulkanun! Longclaws! In here!”

Farland lashed out with his sword. It flashed right through the man behind the desk as if he weren’t there.

“I’m protected by an ironguard, of course,” Vandur said witheringly. “Seeking to slay a wizard of war who’s lawfully pursuing his duties is punishable by death, man, but I’ll overlook that if you apologize-here and now, and on your knees-and surrender both your weapon and your objections to my-”

“Punishable by death upon due judgment of a duly constituted trial court,” Farland snarled, thrusting his blade through Vandur and holding it there while he reached for the man’s throat with his free hand, “which there isn’t one of within a day’s ride of here. And it’s only such an offense if you’re a wizard of war.”

His hand easily thrust through Vandur’s two-handed attempts to strike it aside and closed around the intruder’s throat.

“Even if you are, I utterly refuse to recognize your authority-and will continue to do so, until informed otherwise by someone whose authority I do recognize. No true war wizard would be so … so …”

Vandur did something with a ring on his finger that made Farland stagger back with a curse, fat blue sparks leaping among his spasming fingers. Farland dropped blade, which clanged off the desk to the floor. “Brusque?” he supplied helpfully. “Arrogant?”

“Yes, Dragon take you!” Farland snarled, wringing his hands together, his face creased in pain. “No true wizard of war would behave like this!”

“He’s never met Vangerdahast,” Arclath told Amarune merrily. “And obviously doesn’t remember Glathra all that well, either.”

Farland rounded on him. “Will you belt up, lord, right now, or will you-”

Words failed him, but his fists came up. Before Arclath could do more than wag a reproving finger and say, “Now, now-” Vandur rapped out, “Touch no one, insubordinate man! Or I’ll discipline you here and now!”

He raised a hand into view over the edge of the desk. A hand that had a wand in it.

“You will listen to me, Lord Constable,” he said crisply, aiming the wand right at Farland’s nose, “or I’ll strike you motionless until I’m done speaking and force you to hear me that way! As a senior wizard of war, I outrank any mere Purple Dragon and almost all Crown officers, barring a handful of the most high-ranking courtiers of the realm! I will have your obedience, and I am in command of this castle!”

At that moment, two men garbed like Vandur but weighed down by various bulging packs, pouches, and satchels came trotting rather breathlessly into the room.

“Sorry,” one said to the man behind the desk. “We had a little trouble with the guards-”

“Later,” Vandur said curtly. “Their suitable punishments can wait. Right now, it’s past time to begin our investigation. This room must be in the north tower, so you, Gulkanun, get yourself quickly to the south tower and confirm its layout and our authority to all garrison personnel there. Longclaws, you are to find and secure all exits and entrances to the castle, just as fast as that can be done!”

The two men nodded, turned on their heels, and ran out.

Vandur rose from behind the desk, thrust his wand back into his belt, and raised a hand meaningfully toward Farland as he twisted one of several rings on it. That ring glowed as it was awakened.

“You,” he ordered, “will remain here until my return. I won’t be long. You might as well continue interrogating these prisoners.”

He strode out, closing the door behind him. A moment later, it glowed all around its edges, a brief pulsing radiance of blue, white, and purple that faded as swiftly as it had appeared.

“A wizard lock,” Arclath murmured. “I’ve seen many cast before.”

Farland gestured savagely for silence as he headed for the door. He did not storm through it, however. He halted just before it and bent to listen intently. Arclath and Rune gave him the silence he wanted.

Whereupon, through the door, they could all clearly hear Vandur give a command, then repeat the same order in an imperious bark … and then start shouting.

“Seal me inside my own office,” Farland hissed in grim satisfaction, “and see where it gets you, Saer Imperious.”

The shouting was going on and on, rising in tone.

“The guards are defying him?” Rune asked. “Even when he waves that wand?”

“To avoid any prisoner succeeding in a bribe, there are strict standing orders,” Arclath explained. “The Dragons serving here will obey only their known superiors, the lord constable, and those he personally tells them to take direction from.”

Farland had turned his head to hear what the young lord was whispering. When Arclath was done, he nodded silent confirmation.

The shouting was getting farther away, too distant to make out any words. The war wizard had evidently stormed off, still venting over his shoulder at guards he’d left at their posts in his wake. Then the shouting broke off, as the distant Vandur said something startled and incredulous.

Then he screamed, a long and fearful cry that went raw and shrill-then ended abruptly.

“Stay here,” Farland ordered Arclath and Amarune curtly, and he rushed to the door. It refused to open, of