had suddenly broken into song.
Pryntaler went on. “I note that learned Bennesey, here, referred to this as a guard. If this is left over from the era of the Chondathians, it could be said that the original settlers of your country recognized the Thunder Peaks as the border between our lands.”
Lady Threnka gave the king a small smile and adjusted her pinch-nosed glasses to regard Pryntaler with cold condescension. “You would have us believe that this creature has been sitting unaffected for hundred of years, just so that you might state that the borders of our lands-“
“What other explanation do you have, my lady?” said Jorunhast. “If it had not been left here by some previous Sembians, the alternative is that some present-day Sembians put it there. Then the question becomes who and why. Is this what you are saying?”
As he spoke, the spidery Sembian grabbed Lady Threnka’s arm and spoke softly and sharply in her ear. Her demeanor tightened as he spoke, transforming from haughty and superior to tense and worried.
She ignored the wizard’s words and spoke to Pryntaler. “I see your point, Your Majesty. Perhaps we should adjourn for a short caucus, Kodlos, to discuss the merits of setting the official borders between our nations.”
Kodlos made a puzzled noise. “My lady, we had just gotten started rather tardily-“
“And we will start again once we consider this.” She rose to her feet. “Come. You will forgive us this leave, Your Majesty.”
Pryntaler smiled and managed a small half-bow. “Always, your ladyship.”
The five representatives and their aides made a quick retreat. Pryntaler turned to his wizard. “How long do you think it will take?”
“It depends,” said Jorunhast, “On whether they come back to accept the Thunder Gap as our mutual border, or just head back for Ordulin right here and now.”
“She called me ‘Your Majesty,’” Pryntaler said.
“Twice,” replied Jorunhast, nodding. “Though it looked as if she were gargling slugs as she said it.”
“And you noticed Jollitha Par?” said the king.
“Aye,” said the wizard, “and if you choose not to behead him right here and now, I guarantee he’ll get a special magical visit later, and none will mistake the message or the messenger.”
“Behead him?” thundered Pryntaler, smiling broadly. “The old spider has accomplished in one fell swoop what we’ve been trying to do for the past three days. I may give him a medal!”
Chapter 25: Lies, Spies, and Assassins
Year of the Gauntlet (1369 DR)
“We’re almost ready, you know… almost. Just a few more little details, and then we’ll have to move very swiftly indeed.” Ondrin Dracohorn glanced around the chamber once more and added apologetically, “One can’t be too careful, you know. The war wizards have spies everywhere, and who knows just whom they’re working for?”
The other noble, one of the middle-aged Dauntinghorns, curled his lips. “Vangerdahast, of course.”
Ondrin’s watery blue eyes blinked up at him. “Well, some of them, of course, but I’ve reason to believe that a lot of them are working for other masters… noble masters. Trust me in this, my spies are everywhere, too.”
His nose almost twitched with excitement. “As to why I counsel haste, have you heard what happened to Ohlmer Cormaeril and Sorgar Illance? Both old family patriarchs were found dead in their beds, and on the very same morning!”
The other noble nodded knowingly. “Just a little housecleaning for those two families. I’m always surprised those serpents didn’t father thrice as many daughters as they did, to sell them into slavery-‘guaranteed gently born noble bluebloods,’ and all that.”
Ondrin’s eyes lit up. “Now, there’s a chance for a handsome profit! Why didn’t I think of that? I’ll have to hire myself some lasses to breed with.”
The older, taller noble shook his head. “No. No, you’ve got to free Cormyr first! And by the time you’re finished accomplishing that high and splendid calling-and how many rich merchants can say they did that, toppling kings and setting new ones on thrones, eh?-other nobles’ll have their broods well on the way. In a dozen years or so, after all the expense of rearing them and training them, you’ll be ready to sell and find the market glutted.”
“I suppose.” Ondrin sighed, visibly crestfallen, and then said with a rush, “But I almost forgot to tell you! I’ve heard that the same men slew both old Ohlmer and the head of House Illance! Men working for the same patron, somewhere in House Cormaeril!”
The other noble’s eyebrows went up, encouraged, Ondrin rushed on. “They’re saying the war wizards were furious. They thought a few spells would find out who was behind it all, once they got hold of one of the assassins, but when they started fishing them out of the harbor, they were headless and positively aglow with dead-magic fields!”
The eyebrows went up again. “Dead magic? That sounds like the work of someone a little more powerful than your average war wizard!”
Ondrin seemed to purr with satisfaction. “And you know there’s only one man in Cormyr who fits this little scenario! As it happens, I was talking with our esteemed Royal Magician just the other day-a few private matters, you know…”
The gong by the bath’s door sounded faintly, as if a discreet fingernail had tapped it.
Gaspar Cormaeril lifted his mouth from the stunningly beautiful woman and smiled coldly. “Approach!” he called, rolling her aside in the warm, languid waters with a firm hand and reaching for a glass of smoking blue wine, a rare and expensive import from a very distant place indeed, with the other.
Sensibly the lass settled deeper into the waters and nestled into the crook of the noble’s arm. The scented waters were still roiling from her movements when the man in dark leathers padded to the edge of the pool, knelt, and murmured, “News you should hear, lord. Ondrin Dracohorn’s been heard talking of the deaths and tracing them to House Cormaeril!”
Gaspar sipped at his wine. “Has he, now? Well done, Tuthtar! Send Elios to watch over our talkative little noble for the rest of the day, and then get yourself something to eat. I’ll have something important for you later.” He gave the man his serpent smile, nodded in dismissal, and turned back to the willing lass, sliding down into the deeper waters of the pooi again.
She began to murmur softly, Gaspar let her do so for a very short time before he rolled over again and pressed a button that flanked the marble lip of the pool. A message gong sounded in the distance, and it had barely fallen silent before another man entered the room and knelt in smooth, practiced haste. “Lord, command me,” he said.
Gaspar smiled coldly. “It has become necessary to remove Ondrin Dracohorn. Someone is bound to take him seriously, eventually. And see to poor Tuthtar as well. Ensure to his everlasting silence forthwith, before he has a chance to gossip in the kitchens.”
“At once, lord,” said the man and turned with a grin.
“A pity,” Gaspar murmured, taking the willing lass into his arms again, “but I can’t have folk around who know too much about two fates. Every mouth that can talk of such things is a peril House Cormaeril cannot afford.”
He looked down at the woman, as her emerald eyes met his, they widened in sudden fear.
“Another pity,” Gaspar said with a smile, as he pressed another button to summon a second assassin.
The man in robes strode past, looking grim. The two guards nodded in salute. When the man was safely gone and a stout door closed behind him, one of the Purple Dragons muttered, “That’s the first time I’ve seen Lord Alaphondar in days now. Where’s he been, I wonder?”
The other guard shrugged. “Best not to wonder, I’ve found. He’s in there with Dimswart now, though, and by the looks of things, he’s bringing along grim news with him.” He frowned. “I wonder what…”
Not far away, a dark figure peeled itself away from a pillar and stroked her chin. What indeed? And just where had the sage been? It was high time to get some answers. A black-gloved hand fell to the hilt of a ready dagger.
