Elminster Enraged

the Dragons flood in even before the shouting begins. The Crown is trying to keep trouble firmly sheathed.”

“Amid an ever-increasing flood of noble complaints about the high-handed misuse of the soldiery against loyal and innocent citizens, I suspect,” Lady Delcastle said dryly.

“Indeed. Some legitimate complaints, too.”

“Oh? Such as?”

“Well, for one, the Crown’s inability to ah, ‘eliminate or at least curb’ increasingly bold outlaw bands raiding in the northeastern reaches of the realm.”

“The usual orcs and lawless blades, north of Hullack? Taking advantage of all the shouting and the lords all gathered in Suzail for the council?”

“Some of that, but there have been some bolder raids than usual. Broadshield’s Beasts, for one, have been going right into towns, and not just by night, to-”

He broke off as Storm tensed beside him, and his mother’s face changed. Following her gaze, Arclath cast a swift glance back over his shoulder.

Unannounced and unescorted by servants, three silent visitors walked into the room, anonymous in long, dark nightcloaks. Their hoods were up, hiding their faces, and their hands-and any short weapons they might be holding-were unseen inside flared, long-hanging sleeves.

“Purple Dragon forfend!” Lady Delcastle burst out, more astonished than afraid. “We are invaded!”

She twisted a ring on her left hand, which obediently began to glow, ere springing to her feet to thunder, “Halt! Halt and reveal yourselves!”

Arclath was already out of his chair, his sword sliding out.

“Stay your steel,” the shortest, burliest-and nearest-of the three dark-robed guests snapped at him, “in the presence of the king!”

Arclath knew that voice, even before its owner threw back her cowl: Wizard of War Lady Glathra Barcantle. The other two unhooded themselves more slowly, revealing themselves as Royal Magician Ganrahast, and … King Foril Obarskyr, the Dragon of Cormyr.

Arclath bowed deeply to the king, and Amarune hastily bobbed to her feet to thrust back her chair and give herself space to kneel. Storm kept her seat but smiled and nodded a friendly wordless greeting to the aging monarch-and Marantine Delcastle went right on giving him her best glare.

Ignoring the wand in Glathra’s hand that rose to aim right at her, the matriarch of Delcastle Manor spat, “Is there a reason for this unwarranted, unwanted invasion of my home? Has Cormyr fallen so far that we no longer ask admittance, sending heralds ahead to request the honor of a meeting? Is the realm at war? Or have you just utterly forgotten due courtesy and the rights of citizens-those same rights you daily trumpet and hurl in every highborn face?”

“Mother,” Arclath murmured.

Lady Delcastle rounded on him. “Don’t ‘mother’ me, whelp! I bore and raised you, and expect your loyal support! I-”

“Merely desired to point out,” Arclath interrupted her smoothly, “that you’ve asked His Majesty enough questions and that you owe him a breath or two to provide answers before you bury him under the next part of your tirade. As a man, I know when I’m reaching my limits of queries-and my mind is far less burdened than that of our Dragon.”

“That’s for certain,” his mother replied with tart triumph. “Coherent thoughts all too seldom-”

“Cormyr is not at war,” King Foril put in gently, his voice bringing instant silence. He added a wry smile. “Yet.”

He took a step forward. “I apologize unreservedly for the invasion of your home and, ah, family peace, Marantine. I’d not have done this were matters not grave. I appeal to your love of Cormyr to give us of your patience, and I assure you that none of your people have been harmed in our intrusion. Is your friend and colleague Elminster here?”

“What?” Lady Delcastle asked, at the same moment as Arclath and Amarune both replied, “No.”

“Why do you seek him?” Storm asked calmly.

“And why here?” Arclath asked sharply, earning his mother’s approval. She nodded vigorously at his question, still favoring her unexpected guests with a stern frown. “Has Elminster been seen at Delcastle Manor?”

“No, no,” Ganrahast said in a soothing voice. “We, ah, traced Lord Delcastle to this place.”

“How?” Amarune snapped with sudden fire, surprising everyone. “Are you keeping watch over Arclath?”

“Ah, no, no,” Ganrahast replied hastily, with all the uneasy smoothness of a temple priest unused to blunt challenges, “we merely hoped to find Lady Storm”-he favored Storm with a bow-“and Lord Elminster in his company.”

“Evade not the question,” Lady Delcastle snapped. “You traced my son magically, I take it? How, exactly? This high house and most others have wards to prevent such pryings, wards that I assure you will be renewed and redoubled on the morrow, but I demand to know by what means, as well as by what right, you presume to-”

“The means,” Glathra said flatly, “are a state secret.”

In the suddenly silent wake of her words, she realized everyone in the room was regarding her with a sour expression. Even Ganrahast.

“I’m permitted to say more?” she asked him, dubiously. “Is this wise?”

The Royal Magician sighed. “Tell them,” he murmured, waving to her like a grand orator presenting a learned speaker.

Glathra sighed in clear exasperation and misgiving, then said to those seated around the table, “The name Vangerdahast will not be unknown to you. His continued existence to the present day should also come as no surprise to present company. Well, when Lord Delcastle here was recently assisting the mage Elminster to make use of the body of Wizard of War Appledown, Vangerdahast cast … a little something on Arclath. He didn’t tell us this until now, whereupon we made immediate use of it.”

“To find your way here. Does this trace persist?”

“You’ll have to ask Vangerdahast, but he gave us to understand that our use of it ended it,” Glathra replied reluctantly.

The snort Lady Marantine Delcastle emitted then was loud and impressive. “As if anyone can trust anything that old terror says,” she told the ceiling. “I recall a night when he told me he’d respect me deeply in the morn-”

“Not now, Lady Delcastle,” Glathra said hastily. “Please, not now.”

King Foril’s widening smile was a little sad. “We hastened here to confer with you, Lord Delcastle, hoping to find Lady Storm and Lord Elminster, too. We do not want strife between the Dragon Throne and Elminster, whom we judge could slay or harm many war wizards, given that the Crown and court are at present so beset by rebellious nobles and lurking enemies of the realm in Sembia and elsewhere-but his thefts of magic items in Cormyr must end.”

“Foril,” Lady Delcastle asked with a faint smile, “have you learned the habit of stern royal decrees at last? ’Tis a bit late, mind, but-”

“I have, Marantine,” the Dragon of Cormyr said gently, his quiet voice again bringing silence. “Yet pray distract the converse not. I have tarried too long, and in so doing plunged us into urgency. Lady Storm-I address the Marchioness Immerdusk now, as her monarch-where can we find Elminster?”

Storm met the king’s gaze directly. “I know not. Both his fate and current whereabouts are unknown to me. He thrust all three of us back here to Cormyr in some haste. Yet rest assured he has no more need to take any magic from anyone, save for a few, very particular things. None of which, so far as I know, are to be found any longer within the Forest Kingdom, let alone the grasp of the Dragon Throne.”

“Blueflame items?” Glathra snapped, as if interrogating a less than cooperative prisoner.

“Blueflame items,” Storm confirmed.

“How can we trust you?” Glathra asked bluntly. “Forgive me, Lady Immerdusk, but you Chosen-you Harpers, for that matter-are known to say anything to get your own way, and we have no way of proving your words true.”