“What madness is this?” the Purple Dragon officer snarled. “What’re you doing? ”
“Searching for the Dragondown Chambers!” Florin said. “Can you help us?”
The officer flung up his weapon in a dramatic pose. “ Never! ”
Semoor swung his mace. It slammed into the man’s helmed forehead and sent him reeling. Pennae promptly ducked behind him, going to her knees-and he tripped backward over her and crashed down onto his behind, roaring in pain. Thoughtfully she turned and hopped, landing with both knees on his armored chest and driving the wind out of him.
His head snapped up as he struggled for breath. She smiled sweetly at him and backhanded him across the face, ringing his helmed head off the stone floor.
“Then kindly drift off into dreams and get out of our way!” she snarled into his face. “We have a kingdom to save! Yours! ”
“No, Torsard, not the jeweled blade. No magic, remember?”
“But-but-”
Lord Elvarr Spurbright sighed. “Did we not discuss this? Have you not been instructed in Court etiquette for lo these dozen years now and more?”
“But Algranth Truesilver will be wearing his best sword. It has quillons made to look like spread eagle wings! Why will he- ”
“He will not, ” Lord Spurbright interrupted. “Vangerdahast may-with a frown-allow the Obarskyrs to wear weapons that bear magic to a revel, and just perhaps not rend the visiting envoy of Silverymoon limb from limb in front of us all for daring to do the same, but neither of us are royalty. Which is why your Lady Mother won’t be wearing her tiara that chimes, nor your sisters those glow-gem pectorals they’re so proud of. It may be a high- handed rule, it may be irksome, but Vangerdahast’s duty is to protect the Crown, he is doing so, and he worked to make this particular rule stone-solid long before you were born. You’ve grown up with it as something that ‘is,’ just as your noble standing ‘is.’ How can you accept the one without the other?”
Torsard Spurbright’s lip curled. “Forgive me, Father, but our proud lineage is scarcely to be measured against an arbitary, some-occasions-only detail of Court etiquette!”
“Oh? Are not our noble privileges matters of that same Court etiquette? The Crown can strip them away at a whim, can they not?”
“Aye, the Crown,” Torsard said. “The king, not some jumped-up wizard!”
“Well, that particular jumped-up wizard, daily and in truth, rules the realm more than king and queen put together, and happens to do so right now! So take hold of your temper, do off that blade, and choose one without enchantment!”
“And what if some outlander or hired adventurer storms into the revel and menaces the fair Obarskyrs? What then?”
“Then all the watching war wizards will hurl their spells at such menaces, and the sorceresses who pose as Lady Summerwood’s maids will do the same,” Lord Spurbright replied. “And if there just happens to be anything left of those menaces afterwards that half a realm’s worth of Purple Dragons seem to need aid carving up, your non- magical blade may prove useful!”
“But-”
“Now, are you a Filfaeril-favored Knight of Myth Drannor, or perhaps a murderous outlaw? Or a loyal noble of Cormyr, whom his father can be justly proud of? ”
Torsard snorted, threw up his hands in exasperation, and turned on his heel to stalk out of his father’s study. Only to spin around again, frowning. “Look you, why before all the gods do we have to get dressed up and mingle with every commoner who can afford a bath and a decent tunic?”
“We don’t. We can stay right here and take no part in this reception. I’ll not be surprised if the Bleths and Illances do just that; they oppose closer ties with Silverymoon.”
“Huh. Want all the gold their ships can bring them, in ever-more trade with the Vilhon, don’t they?”
“Precisely,” Lord Spurbright said. “Though I’d also not be surprised if the young Bleth and Illance men sidle in with masks on to enjoy the revelry, even if their fathers forbid them.”
“Oh? A revel for an outlander envoy? Of some elf-loving, backwoods Sword Coast city that freezes every winter and river-floods every summer? Why? ”
“Your vast knowledge of Silverymoon overwhelms me, son. As to your ‘why,’ well, they say the Lady Summerwood is almost as beautiful as High Lady Alustriel herself.”
“Ah, yes, fair and fabled Alustriel,” Torsard said. “One of those silver-haired polearms of women who bed everyone within reach and claim to be the daughter of a goddess. If you reached through the spells they use to make themselves so beautiful, to actually touch them, I daresay your fingers would find near-skull faces and wrinkles and warts and all the other delights old hags have to offer.”
“Oh? Think you so? Well, my all-knowing heir, my fingers have gone on that adventure you so sneeringly refer to-well before I took your mother to wife, I might add-and I found Alustriel to be very fair. Very fair, indeed.”
Torsard stared at his father. Lord Elvarr Spurbright’s voice had gone both soft and rough, and his eyes were gazing at something far away and long ago. Eyes that seemed suspiciously bright-until Lord Spurbright turned his back on his son, and said gruffly, “Well? Just how long is it going to take you to fetch that blade? The revel’s today, look you!”
“We seek the Dragondown Chambers,” Semoor said, shaking the battered-looking Purple Dragon by the throat, their noses almost touching. “Where are they?”
“I’ll never tell!” the guard snarled. “Cormyr forever!”
Semoor backhanded the man across the face, ringing the man’s helm against the stone wall behind him. Then the priest grinned and told his fellow Knights, “Hey, this is fun! I’ve years of being clouted by soldiers to make up for!”
Florin turned away. “ Must we do this?”
Islif laid a hand on his shoulder. “Easy,” she whispered. “I’ll not let it go on much longer.”
“Now”-Semoor smiled into the guard’s face-“let’s try this again. The Dragondown Chambers: where are they? How do we reach them from here?”
“I’ll not tell you, false priest!” the Dragon spat.
Semoor’s punch had real force behind it this time, and his smile had vanished. “You insult Lathander more than you do me, man,” he snapped. “Now, are you-”
Islif took hold of Semoor’s arm and hauled him to his feet, away from the guard-who promptly launched himself into a frantic run that lasted for only a single stride before Islif’s deftly outstretched leg sent him sprawling.
Pennae landed on the Purple Dragon’s back, bounced hard, and drawled, “I wonder how he’ll look after a little slicing?”
She let the man see the knife before she cut the rear strap of his codpiece, and was rewarded with a whimper and a frantic attempt to escape that ended, this time, with Florin hauling the man to his feet-and then off his feet and up against the wall, kicking helplessly with Florin’s hand around his throat.
The ranger said to the guard, “We serve the Crown of Cormyr just as you do. The king himself signed our charter; the queen knighted us and gave us her blessing. We’re trying to save the realm right now. We need to get to the Dragondown Chambers, where as you well know there will be war wizards aplenty, who will promptly and firmly stop us if they judge us disloyal. We need directions. Please give them.”
“Or I’ll continue,” Pennae added lightly, “with this.” Lifting the armored Purple Dragon codpiece aside, she pressed the point of her knife against the revealed leather beneath, just enough for the man to feel it.
“I-uh-don’t let her! Ah-”
“My arm,” Florin informed the guard, “is growing tired. There will soon come a time when I let you fall. And then-”
Pennae swiftly moved the knife to press upward beneath bulging leather, where it could be felt. Its owner swallowed and then said in a rush, “Take the passage with the spyholes to the second way-moot! Turn left there, and go to the end. There’s a cross-way and two doors. Either one opens into a Dragondown Chamber!”
“ Thank you,” Florin said gently. “It’s been a pleasure talking with you, saer.”
“Go to sleep now,” Jhessail whispered, and cast the spell that would send the Purple Dragon into deep slumber.
