as a dragon turtle seems to have paralyzed the great Darlington Blade, then inspired him to take what looked like, for all intents and purposes, a last stand.”
Pryce was thankful for the probing riposte. It allowed him to be completely honest again. “My sole concern was for the daughter of Geerling Ambersong. She is not as well versed in the nature of prestidigitation as you or I.”
“Presti” Lymwich’s expression remained demure, but the silk had hardened to stone and her voice had a harsh grate. “You like her, don’t you? She is… attractive to you, is she not?” She started to walk away from him.
“She has youth and beauty,” Covington acknowledged. “But she also has anger and doubt… like many people.”
Lymwich turned on him, her face half in shadow. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to guard this city? The dignitaries who maintain homes here should not, and will not, be interfered with, but we are surrounded by possible danger.” She turned to the wall, and suddenly the half-orbs were filled with images of the mountainous countryside.
‘To our east, the Azhal Mountains, crawling with thieves. Farther east, Kethio, the Great Swamp, teeming with beasts of all kinds, both natural and supernatural. Beyond that, Dambrath. If the malicious Dambraii ever tried to invade us again, Lallor could well be the first city they attacked…” Lymwich let that sink in before continuing with her litany of jeopardy. ‘To the north, the Bandit Wastes. I don’t imagine I have to tell the likes of you the sort who populate that forsaken area.”
She turned, and suddenly the half-orbs were looking down at the Bay of Azuth, which lay just beyond Lallor Bay. “Go south and you won’t have to travel far to be within reach of the Shipgrave Isles and the Stormtails, where many a ship is beset by Dambrathian raiders, monster whirlpools, South Shining Sea pirates”
“And dragon turtles,” he concluded for her.
“Yes… and dragon turtles,” she agreed with a slightly more sincere smile, but its duration was short. “We are virtually surrounded by threats,” she said grimly, “and if they ever chose to target our tiny city, the navy at Zalasuu would be of little help.” She stood before him, her legs wide, her feet anchored, and her hands clasped before her hips. “So is it any wonder that newcomers who are under suspicion are assigned a personal inquisitrix to watch over them?”
“Under suspicion?” Pryce echoed.
Lymwich shrugged with a malicious smile. “Geerling Ambersong is still missing, and you no longer have the excuse that he is out somewhere teaching you.”
“Does that concern you?” Covington asked the question for three reasons. One, to play for time. Two, to keep her from asking him any more questions. And three, because it certainly did concern him.
“Everything concerns me, Mr. Blade.” The images in the orbs returned to more nearby sites. “Halruaa is ruled by a Council of Elders,” Lymwich continued somberly, “of which Geerling Ambersong is but one. Of course, there are four hundred elders, but you know only thirty-nine are needed to achieve a quorum. But even if they needed thirty- nine-hundred, we would still respect Mage Ambersong as if he were King Zalathorm’s heir. That is how well regarded he is here.”
She placed her hands on the back and arm of the lounge chair and leaned over until her face was mere inches from Pryce’s own. “We want to knowneed to knowthat if you are to take his place, Lallor will remain as safe and as free as it has been during the seventy-five years Geerling watched over it.”
Seventy-five years, Pryce marveled. Twenty-five years to grow up and apprentice… that meant he probably sired Dearlyn at the age of eighty! He filed that revelation in the back of his mind and concentrated on the piercing gaze the inquisitrix was directing at him.
“I cannot guarantee anything,” he told her honestly. “I can only promise to try” he thought fast and hard about how to finish the sentence”to make things right.”
She stared at him for several seconds, apparently trying to scoff at his simple declaration but ultimately failing. Instead, she almost scowled, then abruptly turned away. “You know, of course, that Zalathorm has predicted every attack on Halruaa for the last half century,” he heard her say, not at all liking where this particular bit of folklore was heading. ‘Would it surprise you to know that our finest diviners on Mount Talath fear that one of the greatest threats to our country and people is yet to come… from within?”
Pryce saw the crack in her statement and jumped on it with both feet. “No, it wouldn’t surprise me,” he said. “Zalathorm rules a hundred and forty miles away from Talath, in the city of Halarahh, where they make a fine wine that is particularly tasty when hurled in the face.”
Lymwich turned around and confronted him with incredulity. “You would renounce a threat to your country and your newly adopted city?”
Pryce pushed himself to his feet. “I renounce contrived controversies and artificial arguments,” he told her. “And I do not like being tested… especially with feigned confessions of patriotism. You waste your tricks on me, inquisitrix.”
Lymwich started, but she did not advance toward him. That, Covington decided, was a good sign. “I want to know where Geerling Ambersong is,” she said warningly.
“So do I,” Pryce answered with all his heart.
“You have his magic. Find him.”
“He has his magic,” Pryce corrected. “I have mine.”
Covington thought the confrontation had come to an end. Unfortunately, it was only a prelude to a far more dangerous one. Lymwich lowered her head until her face was completely in shadow, and the colors of the approaching Lallor sunrise filled Covington’s eyes from the many blinding orbs.
“Do you?” he heard her say softly. “Do you really?” The tone of her voice raised the hair on the back of his head. He steeled himself for what might come next, his mind hurrying to lay out all the possible scenarios.
“I find it interesting,” she continued in a quiet, chilling manner, “that during your entire visit here, you have not displayed your vaunted magic once. Not to avoid the dragon turtle, not to avoid a faceful of wine, nothing… ”
Covington’s voice, when it came, was not his. It was the man he had been forced to become. “I do not waste magic,” he said. “I respect my teachings too much. They are too precious for any such triviality.”
“Are they?” she mused sinuously. “Are they really? Tell me, Darlington Blade, do you know the requirements to enter a Castle of Mystra?”
“I do not,” he admitted without shame. He knew he was about to find out.
“Only a person with a clear heart and good intentions is allowed to enter without fear of punishment,” she told him. “And, apparently, you have both in abundance.”
Pryce should have been pleased. The second requirement came as quite a surprise. But instead he found himself holding his breath. He hadn’t felt this much dread since his father had disappeared. He didn’t have to wait long.
“What you don’t seem to have the slightest amount of,” Lymwich continued, “is magic.”
She didn’t even let him have a second to respond. As soon as the words escaped her mouth, her arms twisted into a series of movements that built up to a devastating spell.
A ball of energy appeared between her waving, caressing hands. She shaped and pressed it tighter with her fingers and a new torrent of words until it became a condensed sphere of power. “Your magic must be great indeed,” she cried over the spell’s roar, “or nonexistent!”
Without looking or really thinking, Covington leapt over the lounge chair and slammed his feet into the floor. He threw back his arms, the Ambersong cloak unfurling in the air, and stood directly in the path of the oncoming cataclysm.
“By Zalathorm!” he thundered with the agony and ecstasy of final freedom. If this was how it was to end, then let it end gloriously, with his head up and his eyes open!
Lymwich thrust forward, and the orb blasted across the room. Covington watched as it smashed into the cloak clasp… and disappeared.
Of course. The cloak clasp was the key. It glowed with the memory and power of the gift Geerling Ambersong had be- stowed upon his student. Not only would it open any Ambersong door but it would also protect the wearer from any magic lesser than Geerling’s own.
