The Lady Jalassa Crownsilver,” the aging steward announced with precise dignity, ushering the last of the three noble guests into the Turret Room.
Lady Amdranna Greenmantle inclined her head to him imperiously. “My thanks, Thaerond. You may now withdraw from the North Tower and wait in the entryhall until we ring for your presence. No one is to enter the tower-or the hall itself, for that matter, until I say otherwise.”
“ Very good, my lady,” the steward replied, bowing low and backing out of the room. They heard him close the doors, and the doors of the passage in the distance beyond.
“Is he reliable?” Lady Muscalian asked.
“Completely.” Lady Greenmantle handed her a decanter and a tallglass. “I let him pleasure me once, and he hungers to do so again. Fulfillments of special orders I reward with special favors.”
“He looks about sevent-” Lady Yellander started to say, then blushed and went silent as Lady Muscalian gave her a glare as chill as the winter winds.
Imruae Muscalian had seen somewhat more than eighty winters, and had no hair left to call her own. Her long lustrous black mane outshone Rharaundra Yellander’s own, but was said to owe more to the manes of certain palfreys than the scalps of servants. Most noble matrons of Waterdeep had a wig or two, if only to thrill their husbands on rare nights with memories of long ago moonlit adventures with other women, but “Old Shrew” Muscalian was the only person Jalassa Crownsilver knew who owned-and always wore-a wig-mask.
It was a thing crafted in Sembia by locksmiths and wizards, a metal band that screwed tightly to Imruae Muscalian’s skull. That was unusual enough, but it did more than bore into the head of its wearer: its fore-edge was adorned with a row of little claws that pulled the wrinkled skin of her face tight before all the powder was dusted on by her three hard-working maids. Some said Imruae Muscalian’s shrewishness was due to years of the barbed cut- and-thrust of Suzailan high society; others said it was rooted in the everpresent headache her wig-mask gave her. Whatever the cause, stooped, birdlike, sharp-boned Lady Muscalian seldom engaged in converse without making dry, nasty comments.
By contrast, Lady Rharaundra Yellander had seen perhaps forty winters, and was tall, jet-haired, statuesque, and briskly cutting-tongued when she wasn’t being loftily urbane.
Their hostess, Lady Amdranna Greenmantle, seemed altogether more approachable. She was a shorter, plumper honey-blonde of lush charms, sleek wit, and warm, welcoming beauty.
All three women were looking to Jalassa for guidance.
She gave it to them, as briskly as was her wont.
“Your house wizard?”
Lady Greenmantle smiled. “Safely on the way to Marsember, riding alongside my husband. To ensure that House Greenmantle does nothing too stupid-or treasonous-in our dealings with fleet owners.”
“You should have bought your own boats, long ago-” Lady Yellander began.
“Ships, dear. They’re called ships. ” Lady Muscalian was as peevish as ever. “And we can talk about them another time. Jalassa’s here and by the look in her eye, ’tis time to thrust hard into the vitals of the Crown of Cormyr at last! ”
“ Hush, Imruae,” Jalassa hissed. “Until you all put on these necklaces, my warding protects only me from war wizard spying!”
“Oh, but Jalassa, we’re all wearing ward-baubles-the best that coins can buy! Really, I-”
“Mine, I’m certain of. Yours could be anything, sold to you by any trickster-even Vangerdahast himself, in a spell-spun disguise! And even good wards can clash with each other, leaving gaps a war wizard can find from afar. Take yours off, throw them on yonder couch, and put these on!”
Three hands reached eagerly for the plain silvery chains she held forth. Jalassa watched a ring on her hand. When its changing glow showed her all of the wards were linked and working, she smiled, took up the decanter and tallglass Amdranna had put in front of her, and leaned forward.
“Yes, ladies, the time has come at last!”
She let them cheer and wave their glasses, then added, “As you know, I have schemed against the Crown of Cormyr for years, seeking to free our fair realm from the decadent, lust-brained Obarskyrs and the sinister war wizards who have made the foolish Obarskyrs their toadies-mages who truly rule the land without having the slightest right to do so. Since I recruited you, those I’ve been working with have covertly tested all of you, several times-”
There were stiffenings of alarm and looks of dismay, which Jalassa smilingly waved away.
“Fear not, ladies; none of you have been found wanting. My superiors have gone so far as to promise me that I and all of you shall be given positions of importance in the governance of Cormyr after the Obarskyrs and the wizards who own them are gone. Provided, that is, that we carry out certain tasks.”
“Tasks?”
Three faces were thrust forward, eyes blazing into hers.
Jalassa smiled thinly. “It is work of a certain… delicacy, that I know-for your tongues have told me so, repeatedly, in our gossip together-we are all suited for. And in doing it, we will do much to free Cormyr!”
“Yes?” Lady Greenmantle blurted out, unable to wait longer.
Jalassa examined her freshly painted nails, then addressed her remarks to them. “Most war wizards are men-and all men can be seduced, one way or another.”
“Yes?” It was Lady Yellander’s turn, this time, and the delight in her voice made it clear she’d guessed just what was coming.
Jalassa’s smile broadened. “We shall each contrive to be alone with a certain senior war wizard. These men have been chosen because they are suitable, and because they are known to favor older women of sophistication and power. We shall bring about ‘accidents’ that befall them in private. Harming their heads is best. Topples down stairs or over battlements, being underneath falling statues… that sort of thing. To maim or preferably slay-but ’tis vital that no magic nor any overtly hostile acts on our part be involved, so if our unfortunate old war wizards happen to survive, they won’t suspect we meant them any ill.”
Jalassa knew her fellow conspirators. Bored, jaded, and spiteful, they erupted not with scandalized fury or misgivings, but with savagely eager glee.
Even Lady Muscalian had nothing sneering or belittling to say. What she did was lick her wrinkled lips and hiss, “Who and when?”
Even Jalassa knew not that the ward-necklaces were shields against all but one watching wizard.
To that smiling watcher, they were eyes and ears.
It was why he was smiling, despite the annoying singings clashing and ringing around him: the collective din of the strongest ward-spells he knew how to craft, which were now cloaking the meeting in the Turret Room of Greenmantle Hall far better than the necklaces alone could.
The noblewomen could not help but be caught, of course, and removed. That had become desirable. It was past time to be rid of them and their meddlings. He’d been careful that no link even the brightest mage might follow stretched from him to Jalassa Crownsilver. So he was safe.
The four would probably fail, in the main. Yet any harm they managed was helpful. Their targets were the very war wizards who by inclination or active investigation stood closest to uncovering this watching wizard, whether they knew it or not.
Ah, such spite, ladies. You are the perfect dupes.
As he toyed with his favorite ring, tracing the smooth curves of its unicorn head, the watching wizard’s smile grew.
It shone even brighter a breath or two later, when Jalassa so precisely relayed the task he’d given her to her fellow lady traitors.
Precisely, that is, save for one small omission. Somehow Jalassa Crownsilver neglected to tell her eager audience that her mysterious superiors based in Westgate-for so Jalassa believed “them” to be, never knowing who she was truly dealing with-had promised her two thousand rubies, all of them larger than her thumb, if she successfully carried out all of the killings.
But then, perhaps Lady Crownsilver was smarter than he’d judged her to be. Perhaps she knew the rubies did not exist, or that neither she nor her three conspirators would live long enough to collect them.
Perhaps she even thought the paltry magic items she’d so carefully collected down the years would safely
