next king or prince consort, depending on the decisions of Queen Filfaeril and the crown princess. I need to know if I should be aiding the man who can give true love and support to the heir apparent-or blasting him to ashes, that he have no more chance to bring the fair realm down into ruin.”
Aunadar Bleth licked suddenly dry lips and asked, “So what would you have me do?” His eyes were drawn to the moving hands and lips of the war wizard across the room. Halansalim was murmuring a spell… a magic that would, no doubt, tell him if a certain young noble was trifling with the truth.
There were suddenly beads of sweat on Aunadar’s handsome forehead. Vangerdahast eyed them but said nothing. Is there a noble in any realm lacking a few dire secrets best kept hidden?
“Swear fealty to the crown,” the court wizard said. “Oh, I know you knelt before Azoun and laid your sword at his feet. That holds, if our great king sits on the throne once more, and I shall then see that you are honored for this minor humiliation. But I need to know what is in your heart now.”
“I suppose the alternative,” Lord Bleth the Younger said with a trace of bitterness, his eyes darting to the watchful war wizard, “is to have my wits probed until they are torn apart by the loyal wizards of Cormyr?”
The Royal Magician nodded slowly in silence. Bleth went to one knee and said hoarsely, “I swear, then. By whatever words you want, and on anything you desire. I will be loyal to the crown of fair Cormyr, upon my life.”
The wizard raised one hand, and suddenly, without fanfare, there was a blade in it. The blade was a relic of days gone by, its broad and heavy blade incised with deep, angular runes. Bleth had never been so close to it before. He drew in his breath involuntarily at its power and beauty as Vangerdahast lowered the sword to his lips, hilt first.
“The blade I hold is Symylazarr, the Fount of Honor, upon which every leader of every noble house swears his or her fealty to the king. Kiss the dragon’s-head pommel and repeat the last sentence you uttered,” the old wizard said, and the other two men in the room took a single step forward in unison.
The young noble did as he was bade and added firmly, “Moreover, I pledge upon my honor to do whatever I can to help the Princess Tanalasta.”
Vangerdahast nodded gravely. “Well said.” With a wave, the ancient blade was gone again, as suddenly and as silently as it had appeared.
As he rose, the young noble seemed calm, composed, and almost regal, as if he’d been touched by some magic of the blade or the ritual itself. For the first time, he spoke to the wizard as an equal and an ally. “For my part,” he said anxiously, catching at Vangerdahast’s sleeve, “I am worried about Tanalasta and the future of the realm. Will she see what she should do? Will she rule well, or is it truly a challenge for someone else? And if-the good gods forbid-Azoun should die now, who will rule if the princess hesitates?”
“Who indeed?” the court wizard agreed gravely, studying the ornately tiled floor. He had already overheard whisperings in the halls, among both courtiers and palace servants: Who will rule?
The Royal Magician shrugged, not even raising his head. “We shall see,” he said absently and added, “You have our thanks, Aunadar Bleth. You may go.”
The young noble stiffened, fresh color washing across his features. “A royal dismissal? Who crowned you king?” he asked angrily. “My oath is to the crown! By what right do you dismiss or summon or order about any highborn man or maid of Cormyr?”
“I have the legal right, if you want to look up the dusty rulings of Rhigaerd and see for yourself Azoun’s signature upon them, giving me the authority to act in defense of the realm should he ever be unfit or unable to rule,” Vangerdahast replied softly, blinking at the young noble in mild surprise.
Bleth’s features twisted in a sneer. “That was a power given to the adult tutor of Azoun as a young boy, not to an old dotard once the boy has become a man and been crowned king and has a queen and daughters of his own.”
Vangerdahast shrugged. “None of this truly matters now, does it, young Bleth? You waste my time while the realm crumbles. If you seek to test my authority, go out that door and bring a guard back. Order him to do one thing, and I shall countermand the order. See which of us he obeys, and you have your answer.”
“Pah-a guard! They know where their next coin comes from! What if I-or any noble-refuse to obey?”
“Ah, well,” Vangerdahast said mildly, “a stellar career as a toadstool always awaits.”
At that moment, the doors of the Redpetal Room swung wide, and as they all looked up in surprise, a white- faced, wild-haired woman rushed in, flanked by men-at-arms. Gwennath of Tymora looked as if she’d foregone a much-needed sleep to bring important news, as indeed she had.
“Noble lords, the sage Dimswart has discerned-I know not how-that the beast’s breath carried a venom,” she gasped without salutation, her eyes meeting those of the court wizard. “The venom spreads a blood disease resistant to conventional magic. That is why my spell had no effect on the late duke. This magic-resistant blood disease in the venom eats at internal organs and destroys the body from within! And once the body is slain, the resistant nature of the disease prevents any restoration of the victim!”
She swayed as if about to faint, and Vangerdahast absently caught her shoulders to keep her upright. “Death will come to them both, then, and none can stop it,” he murmured, letting Alaphondar take charge of the exhausted priestess.
He straightened, stepped forward briskly, and said, “Come, Aunadar Bleth! ‘Tis time you learned some of the secrets of the realm, to give you something to be loyal to. Besides, even arrogant young nobles should be able to learn a thing or two.”
As the Royal Magician moved toward the door, the Bishop of the Black Blades shook herself free of the sage’s grasp and said fiercely, “I will accompany you!”
Vangerdahast gave her a surprised look, but nodded and waved a welcoming hand. “Come, then.”
The court sage asked quietly, “Where go you, lord wizard? Should you not return-or should there be a change with the stricken royals-I must know.”
Vangerdahast did not pause on his way to the door. “Use your stone to summon me. We’re bound for the depths, to see that there are still spells in the world that can create new kings from bits of the old.” He nodded farewell to the sage, the war wizard, and the guards and set off at a quick pace down a narrow servants’ passage. Bleth and the lady bishop followed.
He led them through a ready room and on along another passage, stopping suddenly partway along it. They almost bumped into him as he did something to a section of wall that looked no different than any other. It swung inward to reveal darkness, the smell of damp stone, and cobwebs. One of the glowstones at the court wizard’s belt roused into life, its green radiance stabbing out in a beam that illuminated a narrow passage running down into darkness.
“Where are we going?” Gwennath asked, wide-eyed with wonder.
“To where secrets sleep,” the Royal Magician said shortly.
“Prisoners hanging in chains?” Aunadar asked, lifting a sardonic eyebrow.
“To where things of magic are kept safely away from prying eyes and adventurous hands,” Vangerdahast replied sourly, not looking at Bleth. “Noble hands, for instance.”
The passage took them down a steep, almost breakneck flight of steps to a cross passage. The Royal Magician turned left, took two long strides, and then turned to the right-hand wall and did something swift and deft again. The wall swung open to reveal more darkness-and a curious, high-pitched singing sound. Vangerdahast held up one sleeve of his robes, and something winked there.
The singing died away, and the mage stepped forward. The young noble gestured with acidic courtesy for the priestess to precede him, then followed her through the opening. “Keep your sword in its sheath,” the wizard said softly to Bleth without looking back, “or the guardians ahead will surely separate your head from its accustomed place on your shoulders.”
Aunadar made no reply, even when niches began to occur on either side of the narrow passage, each one filled by a dark, silent armored figure. Something scraped ahead, and Vangerdahast muttered something low-voiced but hasty.
There was a soundless flash, and then a spreading purple radiance as an oval opening occurred in a hitherto- invisible barrier. It fell away before them, followed by a white radiance flickering with green around the edges, to reveal a closed stone door whose smooth surface was broken only by a pull ring and a keyhole.
“Was that a teleport ward?” Bleth asked curiously.
“Partly,” the wizard replied calmly. He drew something-a tiny pierced, hollow metal sphere-from his belt.
