A little relieved that none of that had been necessary, he smiled at the wizard's distant, dwindling figure.
'Those who deal in pain are fated to entertain it in turn,' he murmured. 'It's merely a matter of when. So reap this whirlwind, Vangey. It's puny, compared to most of your others.'
'Who's there?' Aumrune of the Zhentarim asked sharply. He'd taken care that few of the Brotherhood knew where he liked to experiment with magic. It cut down on… the over-ambitious aiding 'accidents.'
The robed and hooded figure slowly spread empty hands in a 'look, I bear nothing' gesture, and then reached up and put back his cowl to reveal a familiar face.
'Mauliykhus,' the approaching wizard identified himself. 'My deepest apologies for disturbing your work. There is urgent news. I thought you would want to hear it without delay.'
Aumrune set his wand on the table, cast the cloak he'd brought to conceal from all eyes the array of clamps and stands and what they held, and strode to meet Mauliykhus. He awakened several of the rings he wore to glowing life.
Most Zhentarim harbored thoughts of doom befalling their superiors, and he supposed Mauliykhus was no different. 'Supposed' because he'd never found the slightest whisper of a hint that the lesser mage was actually doing anything to bring such a doom down on Aumrune-and because his own deepening judgment of the character of Mauliykhus Oenren led him to believe that the man would never dare try anything beyond, perhaps, a sudden wild snatch at a bright opportunity.
And if there was one thing Aumrune Trantor was careful never to offer any potential foe-which meant everyone else in all Faerun-it was a bright opportunity.
Wherefore he came to a careful stop two paces away from Mauliykhus and held up a hand, the rings on it glowing in warning. 'What news?'
'Lord Manshoon,' Mauliykhus said, lowering his head and edging forward. He stopped, appearing not to see Aumrune's stern 'keep back' gesture as he looked back over his shoulder. 'Best whisper this,' he breathed quietly, edging still closer.
Aumrune took a step back. 'Is it choosing a new foremost henchwizard from among us all, again? I have an ever-decreasing appetite for idle gossip, and-'
Mauliykhus shook his head and looked nervously behind him again. 'It's not that.'
'If anyone's listening to us,' Aumrune said, 'they'll be using magic and keeping themselves safely far away from here, not tiptoeing along behind you.' One of the rings blossomed from its glow into a faint singing in the air all around the two wizards.
'There,' he announced. 'No one can scry us now without overwhelming rhat. And if it collapses, we'll know, won't we? Now-'
He stiffened, then, as Mauliykhus put a hand on his arm.
The lesser wizard did rarher more than stiffen. He staggered back a step-and then collapsed to the floor like a falling blanket.
Aumrune looked down at the fallen wizard, watching thin threads of smoke drift up from the burnt-out holes that had held eyes a moment or two ago. Dead as last year's moths and about as useful.
Aumrune Trantor stepped around him, reeling a little as the two entities still settling into his head fumbled for precise control of their new host body's limbs, and strode away, leaving cloak, wand, and all forgotten on the table behind him.
He no longer had need of such trifles.
'Lady Ironchylde!'
The whisper was urgent-and loud almost enough to echo the entire length of this obscure, out-of-the-way, upper passage of the vast and sprawling Royal Court.
Wizard of War Tsantress Ironchylde calmly finished locking the door of her chambers ere turning to look at whoever had hailed her. She was young and capable-and much of her effectiveness thus far, she knew well, was due ro her ability to remain calm.
'I am not,' she said pleasantly, 'a 'Lady.' I am a war wizard, of low birth, as it happens. And you are…?'
The man who'd hailed her was the only other person in the passage. Lean and lithe, he was wearing glossy black boots, black hose of the most expensive make, a black codpiece that might have made a jester snicker, and a black cloak that entirely hid his doublet and most of his face, too. He stopped every few feet to cast exaggerated looks up and down the passage. 'Are we,' he whispered tersely, 'alone?'
Tsantress quelled a sudden urge to giggle and assured him that they were. As she did so, she put one of her hands behind her, out of his sight, and awakened one of the rings upon ir. Jusr in case.
'I dare not speak to you,' the mystetious figure whispered, scuttling nearer, 'out here.'
'And yer you are speaking to me,' Tsantress said. 'Though you have as of yet failed to answer my question.'
'So I have!' the man in black agreed, ducking his head and sidling still nearer, almost turning his back on her in his eagerness to look behind him-and then whirling around and leaning over to peer past her. 'Madam mage, I am a Lord of Cormyr!'
'Whose name is…?' Tsantress.
'Not out here, I pray you, madam! Not out here!'
Tsantress activated a second ring. If she was going to enter her chambers alone with an unidentified man, she was going to furnish no possibility of his successfully attacking her or snatching any of the unfinished-albeit cryptic-work she had spread out on her bed and tables.
'Very well,' she said, and she unlocked her door with the deftness of long practice, keeping herself facing him all the while. 'Pray enter, Unknown Lord.'
The man in black winced. 'I would not have you think poorly of me! I mean you no harm nor dishonor. Believe me! I desire but to aid Cormyr on a matter of utmost delicacy! Please believe me!'
'In here.' Tsantress beckoned.
Her guest cast two last exaggerated looks up and down the hallway and then ducked inside, swirling his cloak away from his face with a flourish as she swung the door shut behind him.
Tsantress regarded him calmly. His face was quite handsome, and she recalled seeing it at Court a time or two. As noble as he claimed to be, but of no important family… and about the same age she was.
'Is it locked?' he asked.
'Not yet,' the war wizard told him. 'Its locking awaits the revelation of your name.'
The man in black broke his dramatic pose long enough to spin to face her. 'Lady Wizard,' he said, srriking another pose, 'I am Lord Rhallogant Caladanter!'
'Well met,' Tsantress replied. She made her own little show of locking-and bolting-the door, then leaned back against it, folded her arms across her chest, and asked, 'So you wish to speak to me regarding a matter of utmost delicacy?'
The handsome young lord looked both ways again, even in her small, dim antechamber, then sank his head low between his shoulders and murmured in a deep voice, eyes darting this way and that as if he could see watching eyes appearing in every corner, 'I have overheard some disturbing things about a few Wizards of War- Vangerdahast and Laspeera, in particular-who have been meeting in secret with some Sembians and Zhentarim. I fear for rhe realm, but I know not where to turn.'
Tsantress stiffened, her face going pale. She was an ambitious, capable young war wizard and had been very careful to watch and learn much, for fear of putting a foot wrong as she soughr to ascend ever higher in the Royal Magician's regard. A few of the folk she had seen Vangerdahast meeting with had troubled her deeply. So this, now…
'Come,' she whispered as she crossed the antechamber into her study, taking him by the sleeve. She was pleased to see that although he trembled with excitement, he showed no triumphant grin of lechery or brightening opportunism. 'Sit with me, and tell me all you have seen and heard. All.'
As she'd suspected, it wasn't much. Yet it was more than enough to make her shiver. She regarded the Royal Palace in a new way: as a brooding fortress of suspicions, every shadow something that peered and listened. 'Den
