“Lord Stormserpent, we hear and will do so. Your sentiments do him honor, and yourself as well.”
And with that, the Dragons were gone in a hasty thunder of boots, leaving a shaken Marlin Stormserpent to sip liquid fire and listen to the doors of his home boom shut.
After he’d downed a flagon, refilled it, and emptied it again, one of the House servants murmured at his elbow, “Lord? Will you be wanting any-”
“Leave me be,” Marlin said curtly. “I would prefer to be alone. Let no one follow where I go.”
He filled the flagon once more and drained it in a single quaff that left him gasping. Slamming it down on the board, he said curtly, “Wash that,” and turned away to stride blindly across the forehall toward the grand stair.
“Talane” was a mystery, perhaps a mere fancy to send the watch astray. Gaskur had almost certainly died under the treachery of one of his fellow conspirators; the most recent task of importance he’d given Gaskur was to spy on their doings and meetings for any sign of possible betrayal.
“Nobles,” he hissed furiously, quoting a jest that usually left him wildfire-leaping hot. “Can’t trust them even as far as you can hurl their severed heads.”
By then, he was up the stair and through a door and waving sleepy servants back to their beds. A few more halls and doors, a few more locks and bars seen to, and he would be alone, all servants kept well away from him.
Back in his own rooms, he scooped Thirsty back out of his jerkin and set the stirge on a perch; Thirsty hated the magic that was about to be awakened and always demonstrated that by defecating copiously and digging claws in deep, too. Drawing and downing a hasty glass of wine from his favorite decanter, Marlin set aside the chalice and the Flying Blade, too, caught up his bedside lantern, and headed for the uppermost room of the most ruinous tower.
Dust still lay thick over much of it, in the lantern glow. From the cloak stand he retrieved the milky glass orb, took it to the small round table, and set it atop the heavy metal goblet standing there.
Settling himself into the lopsided chair, Marlin touched the orb, murmured the word, and watched the familiar glowing cloud appear. As swiftly as if Lothrae had been waiting for him-a thought that made his eyes narrow in suspicion, for just a moment-the cloud became the image of the masked man sitting in the falcon-back chair in front of his own orb.
“Yes?” Lothrae greeted him simply.
“Master,” Marlin Stormserpent began fearfully, and related Gaskur’s fate and his own fears of treachery, ending with, “What should I do?”
“Stop acting weak and fearful,” came the cold reply. “Stop looking over your shoulder for treachery, and attracting the suspicions of every last Purple Dragon or war wizard who may set eyes on you. Carry on as boldly and insolently as if nothing at all has happened. The way you were conducting yourself before.”
Lothrae leaned forward to speak loudly and firmly. “If there’s a traitor in your conspiracy, this is your best armor; he has struck against you, and behold, you are so strong that you simply ignore the blow.”
The masked man spread his hands. “You can live looking behind you at every shadow, fear strangling you-but that’s hardly a life worth living, is it? Continue with our plan, and the throne can one day be yours. Waver, and it shall never be. Break, and it’s your life you’ll be frantically seeking to cling to, not dreams of kingship. But none of this should be new to you; you should already be well aware of the choices before you and the risks woven around each of them.”
“Yes, yes,” Marlin agreed hastily. “Yes, I’ll do that-uh, those things.”
Nodding, Lothrae was abruptly gone, leaving nothing but dark and empty air above Marlin’s orb.
Cursing softly, the heir of House Stormserpent restored things to their rightful places, took up his lantern, and hastened back to his own chambers.
Lothrae had spoken of the best tactic, but those bold words did nothing at all to lessen the danger. Someone who’d sat around his table plotting treason-or even a cabal of several of them, grinning at him behind their masklike faces-wanted him dead.
Taking to his bed was easy enough, but finding slumber proved harder. Fear was in him, his mind whispering peril after betrayal after knife in the dark.
Marlin tossed and turned, hissing curses through cold sweat after drenching cold sweat, fear never leaving him. He was so agitated that Thirsty took to flitting back and forth across the bedchamber, flapping from post to post of Marlin’s great four-poster bed.
It was no use. He could
“Farruking
He staggered as his bare feet hit the floor, but yawningly steadied himself against the nearest bedpost, then made for the chalice and the Flying Blade.
When Langral and Halonter of the Nine were standing coldly facing him once more, blue flames raging endlessly about them, Marlin commanded the two ghosts to watch over him as he slept and guard his person from all intruders.
Thirsty the stirge hastily flew from the bedpost up to the loftiest corner of his highest window to perch well out of their reach.
Langral and Halonter nodded silently at those orders. Silently flaming, they took up positions over Marlin as he settled himself on his pillow once more.
He’d feared he might not be able to sleep with the blueflame ghosts looming so close and menacing, but before he could so much as fully remember that fear, dark and falling oblivion claimed him.
And so never saw the thief and the fighter of the Nine, standing there in their flames, turn to regard each other over Marlin’s faintly snoring form-and then in unison look down at him, open contempt on their faces.
“Saving the world or not,” Amarune mumbled, finding her nose perilously close to the tabletop for about the tenth time, “I
“Of course, lass. Ye need rest. We’ll talk more on this later.”
Elminster produced a pouch from somewhere under his robes, and from it poured a generous stream of coins into his empty tallglass in the center of the table.
Then he rose and offered Amarune his arm. She was very thoughtful but also stumbling weary, and almost fell as she found her feet and took that proferred arm.
“Where-?”
“I’m escorting ye back to thy rooms, where I’ll part from thee and let ye enjoy a good long sleep. As long as ye need, mind; I’ll settle things with thine employer so ye’ll not be greeted by swords when ye come next to dance. The Dragonriders’ should be reminded that drunken wizards can and do accuse any innocent lass of being almost anyone. I’ll play a sober wizard who knows better.”
Amarune nodded and let the old man lead her out through the deserted halls of The Willing Smile. Not the way they’d come in, she noticed; some discreet side exit, then.
So it proved to be, when Elminster ducked behind a narrow ascending stair, pushed on a panel, and they were in the outside air.
And almost falling over someone who was leaving the same establishment by another door that faced their own-a hasty departure of a robed man who was bent over as he scuttled forward, still fastening his clothing.
The collision was a mild one but parted Amarune and El and left them hopping for balance. They turned in unison-and found themselves looking into the glare of Wizard of War Rorskryn Mreldrake.
Who flushed a deep crimson and started to stride forward, snapping threats and orders at “Two miscreants who should
Elminster turned his head in the teeth of this tirade and quietly asked Amarune, “Trip him for me, will ye, lass?”
Unhesitatingly she obeyed, toppling the war wizard abruptly on his face onto the cobbles, sprawled and senseless.
After staring down at the unconscious Mreldrake in sleepy astonishment for a moment, Amarune shook her
