'. . that strikes me as particularly scandalous. Why, the-'
'… an immoral compromise! Now, your tyrannies-like Zhentil Keep, before the fall-don't get themselves into messes like that. Oh, no-swords out, a dozen dead, and on we all go. Much cheaper that way.'
'Certainly much cheaper if you're one of those twelve, aha?'
When the men he'd signaled had all departed, Murpeth looked at the noisy crowd with distaste and said, 'I think we'd all enjoy ourselves more in a private room. If you'll follow me?'
The Zhents all moved with him-and the lady escort, secure on Thone's arm, went with them. If that irritated Murpeth, he did not show it. The slyblade was the most deadly man of them all, and they all knew it.
The Borderer even murmured a joke about it as they climbed some stairs. 'I thought you were an expert in
The Zhentarim leader strolled up to doors that two armed guards flung open before him, and into a vast, richly-carpeted room above the feast hall. This one, however, was empty save for tables laden with food, wine, and lit candles, and a row of large merchants' strongchests along one wall. Moongul raised an eyebrow as he noticed them, and peered at them in a brief-and vain-quest for chalked merchants' marks, but said nothing.
Calivar Murpeth turned and spoke to them all, waving a hand at the tables. 'Feel free,' he said, and turned his gaze until he ended that invitation looking squarely at the lady escort.
She crossed her wrists upon her breast in the formal salute that the gently reared in the Dragonreach lands give to persons they see as nobility who outrank them, and Murpeth's cool gaze became visibly warmer. He smiled, inclined his head, and murmured, 'I trust you are a lady of discretion?'
'In everything, lord,' she breathed, looking straight into his eyes. 'In
Murpeth gave no sign that her answer had registered with him in any way, but the merchant Moongul cleared his throat and turned swiftly away with a low growl of arousal, deciding that it was high time to seek wine.
Aldluck Dreen rejoined them, looking grim and some shy;what more sober. With him were several frightened-looking men. Aldluck stared at Talantha in astonishment, and she gave him a demure smile then turned again to look at the man who was holding her arm.
'Would you like to … talk?' she murmured, training eyes that were very large on him.
'Soon,' Thone told her, guiding her over to a table and pouring her a generous glass from a slender bottle of wine. She did not fail to notice that the glass he poured for himself came from another bottle, of a different shape.
'Very soon,' the slyblade told her, as Ridranus followed them like a large, patient shadow. 'There's a little busi shy;ness to be attended to first.'
Those words had barely left his mouth when one of the men Aldluck had brought paused in mid-word, with his mouth hanging open, and started to drool. He stood stock still, only his frightened eyes moving, roving back and forth in sudden panic, like an animal thrust into a cage. The woman who wore the shape of Talantha recognized him. This was Gustal Sorold, the night cook at the Old Skull, three years in the dale after departing his native Hillsfar, and a man she already knew was a Zhent agent.
He seemed to tremble all over, as if fighting the paraly shy;sis that gripped him, but at that moment the two slyblades left Talantha, as if in response to some signal she hadn't seen, and calmly took Gustal by the shoulders, plucked his feet off the ground, and marched him over to one of the chests. They opened it, took out a pair of dock shy;ers' hammers, calmly broke the paralyzed man's knees, and stuffed him into the chest. Then Thone leaned in and did something that made the little yipping and gargling noises the cook had been making stop-or rather, become strangled for a brief, frenzied period, then cease. He straightened up and turned away without a word, and in similar silence Ridranus reached out a long arm and calmly closed and latched the lid of the chest.
Some grim-faced men rushed into the room, then, and for one wild moment Talantha, who stood quietly sipping her wine by the table where Thone had left her, thought they were friends of the cook, here to rescue-or rather, now, avenge-him. The newcomers went straight to Murpeth, however, and muttered reports. Talantha took one idle step away from the tables, and that brought her close enough to hear that these men had scoured the woods around Warmfires and every closet and cellar of the house itself for Maervidal Iloster, and had done so in vain.
The Zhentarim leader acquired his thundercloud look again, but Moongul shrugged and said soothingly, 'He'll turn up. You can hold another revel then.'
'Wherever he is, he'll be paralyzed by now,' the Bor shy;derer added quickly, then raised his glass and added, 'Good wine. Thanks.'
Murpeth nodded his acknowledgment with a distant, distracted air, and strode over to a knot of men who looked like Sembians of middling wealth. It seemed the Zhen shy;tarim were now calling on men of all ranks and station, weaving a web of intrigue rather than having spies report directly to the arrogant, ambitious magelings Manshoon had favored. Well, it made them harder to find. Storm drifted over to meet Thone and engage in a little flirtation. She didn't know how much longer this body would have.
It seemed all too soon when the warm tingling rose in her, like a sudden wave. Thone had been looking into her face for a while, now, and the change in his gaze told her he'd seen her react.
This must be the saisha. Storm could move freely-poisons didn't affect Chosen of Mystra in the ways they were supposed to-but she knew she wasn't supposed to be able to. She paused in the act of leaning forward to caress Thone's chin, froze, and let fear leak into her eyes.
Thone scooped her up without pause or ceremony, one hand around her shoulders and the other between her legs and up to grasp her belt at the back. Like a grain sack he swung her around, flung the curt words, 'She's ready, lord,' across the room to Murpeth, and strode toward a table.
Ridranus was already there. Having pinched the candles out with his fingers, he was now sweeping wine and food unceremoniously aside to clear a space. Thone dumped her down on it and turned away in the same whirling movement. Storm did not have to try to find some believable way to turn a paralyzed head to see where he was going: she knew he was headed for the fire shy;place.
Ridranus did not wait for Thone's return. 'You're going to answer some questions about how our scrivener van shy;ished,' he said shortly, 'and I have a promise for you, if you fail to tell all. We will hurt you, woman.'
With deft, dispassionate fingers he arranged her on her back, arms and legs slightly spread from her body. 'First,' the slyblade murmured, 'you will feel the hot fire irons Thone's retrieving right now on your skin, in the most tender places. If you still tell us false, or omit things of importance-and you'd be surprised at how much we do know, and can check against what you say-the irons will find your pretty face next. I imagine you'll have a hard time getting any man to hand you coins for your company after that.'
He smiled bleakly, and drew himself up. 'Then, 'twill be my pleasure, the breaking of your fingers, one by one. If even that fails,' he sighed and regarded his fingernails, 'the fire irons will be put into your eyes.'
He reached out and gently turned her head to face the room, so she could see two servants putting down tiles, then a hot brazier atop them, as the crowd of Zhentarim gathered in a half circle to watch.
They parted for Thone, as he came from the main hearth with two red-hot pokers in his hands, then parted again to admit a thin, superior man in brown silks, who swept across the room like he owned it, aiming his sharp nose and beady eyes like weapons to sneer down everyone.
An insecure little mageling, Storm judged. His first words confirmed it. In nasal, supercilious tones, he looked down at her and announced, 'Iyleth Lloodrun of Ordulin at your service, madam.' He let his eyes travel the length of her silver-gowned form and added, 'I am here in these scenic dales to hunt, and dislike to be kept from my killing, so I fear I shan't show you overmuch patience for lies or evasions. Answer plainly, and live.'
He glanced at Thone, who signaled the readiness of the irons in the portable brazier with a nod, then gave Calivar Murpeth a curt nod, which was returned. The last mur shy;muring gossip stilled, and in the silence that followed the mageling gave the assembled Zhentarim a superior little smile, turned his back on them, and cast a spell that would let him into her mind.
His eyes glittered as he stared down at her, and framed his first question. Storm heard it as a faint, distant whis shy;per, her shields blocking its coercion completely.
Storm just stared at him, letting her eyes go large and dark with fear. Lloodrun lifted his head and snapped, 'She's protected.'
