'Go places, find those with magic you want, kill them, return home with the loot.'
'Not a new strategy for any of us,' Old Ghost agreed. 'Long, long ago there was a kingdom in the north of what is now-nominally- Cormyr. Occupying most of the Stonelands and a little of the land-along the Ride north of the Hullack.'
'Esparin.'
'Esparin. And kingdoms often have palaces. Now, not quite so long ago, Cormyr had a king named Duar, who had to fight for his throne against a conspiracy that ruled most of Cormyr for a time.'
'Executing or exiling the nobles who conspired against him,' Horaundoon replied. 'I have been told about the reign of Duar Obarskyr. Civil strife means wizards killed and magic hastily hidden.'
'Indeed. So we have the Lost Palace of Esparin, which has remained lost because it lies hidden underground-somewhere under the Stonelands. We also have one particular noble family out of the dozen-some who were exiled for their deeds against King Duar. The Staghearts, now extinct. Which means the Crown owns the old, ruined Stagheart mansion but is unaware that it is linked by portals to the palace. More than that, Vangerdahast and his war wizards are unaware of these portals, too, or they and the Obarskyrs would never have let the place fall into ruin and be swallowed by Cormyr's ever-vigorous forests.'
'So Manshoon knows this way into the Lost Palace?'
Targon nodded. 'For years, Manshoon has been occasionally slipping into the Lost Palace of Esparin to explore, and he has plundered it of many magic items and old spellbooks.'
'So if I were to get into this Lost Palace…'
'No,' Old Ghost said. 'Put out of your mind thoughts of becoming mightier than me by picking up magics that lie waiting in those halls. You'll find your own doom instead. The Palace has… complications.'
'That you're going to keep from me, aren't you?' Horaundoon asked, more thoughtfully than bitterly.
'No,' Old Ghost said, 'but they certainly exist and close that particular door to both of us. Wherefore I'd prefer to discuss what you should do first and only then chat about, ah, romantic fancies.'
'Very well. So Manshoon is in hiding and so are all the other most powerful Zhents, leaving me only worthless magelings to kill. While the beholders and the Bane priests and the most senior wizards all try to find or craft magics to find and destroy me.'
'Well put. So we must make that tumult of yours shake them right out of doing so by making it much greater. I believe the best way to flush the most powerful out into the open is to hand the Brotherhood either a real crisis or a real opportunity. A war with Cormyr, perhaps…'
Old Ghost could feel Horaundoon's mind swirl with incredulous, eager delight. 'Which you're going to cause how?'
'Through your strict obedience to my orders,' Old Ghost said. 'I am sending you to find and slay any of the Knights of Myth Drannor and to seize the Pendant of Ashaba. You will then bring it back here, by means of its chain looped about your blade, so Zhenril Keep can openly lay claim to Shadowdale. I-that is, this body I inhabit-can handle that.' 'While I-?'
'You will already have slipped back into Cormyr to do a little more butchery.'
'Specific butchery.'
'Indeed. You will slay the spies Vangerdahast sent after the Knights. You will also kill Myrmeen Lhal, in Arabel, then anyone the war wizards and the Dragon Throne send to look into her demise and the disappearances of the pendant, the Knights, and their spies. Cormyr will thus be weakened and infuriated at the same time as the most ambitious Zhents seek to take advantage of this weakness.'
'You again.'
'Targon again, suggesting and advising and 'discovering' where it will do the most good. I'll see to it that Brotherhood milirary strength in Shadowdale is built up and commanded by someone recklessly ambitious-we have a lot of Zhentilar like that-and goad them into taking Tilverton and Halfhap and threatening Arabel. The Zhentilar are to do battle with Purple Dragons wherever they see them. That will soon bring Cormyr riding this way with fire and sword-and that, if conquering Tilver's Gap hasn't done it already, will inevitably draw the rest of the Brotherhood into the conflict.'
Horaundoon's mind had darkened, eagerness giving way to apprehension. 'But what if Cormyr is too strong and shatters the Brotherhood, menacing Zhentil Keep itself?'
Old Ghost's satisfaction could be felt even more strongly than Targon's face could express. 'As ro that,' he said, 'we need never fear Cormyr's strength. The Lost Palace is bulging with mad liches, all of them deranged but very powerful spell-slayers. All we need do is work the Unbinding that frees them all, and it will thrust them through an old portal right into the heart of the Royal Palace in Suzail-dooming that city. Its citizens will die horribly, twisted or blasted by ruthless magic, before the liches start to roam.'
'And we'll then stop these rampaging liches how?'
'It matters not if they wreak havoc in other lands. In fact, we would do well to goad or steer some of them into dealing much death in Thay. If they do turn on us, who is better equipped than the Brotherhood to destroy them?'
'A Zhentarim empire… Thay brought low…' Horaundoon's thrilled mind was bright with eager, growing hunger.
'Once the elder wizards of the Brotherhood are out of their fortresses and active, we can select victims at will.'
'Manshoon and the most debauched wizards.'
'When they are eliminated, Fzoul and the beholders are certain to seek command of the Zhentarim. When that bloodbath is done, one side or both will be gone, leaving just the hardened survivors and the weakest of magelings.'
'Whom we can control.'
Targon nodded. 'Whereupon the Brotherhood will be back on the path to greatness-an empire-at last. Which we safeguard, watching and continuing to prune away anyone who reveals himself as the same sort of power- hungry fool that Manshoon has become.'
The brightness in Horaundoon's mind suddenly clouded over with fear again. 'What about Hesperdan?'
Old Ghost made his host body shrug. 'He's always been a mystery, that one-and far more powerful than he has any right to be. Yet even if he steps forward to seize all, he has never seemed as reckless as Manshoon. Yes, Hesperdan just might be the greatest tyrant mage Faerun has ever known.'
Princess Alusair's heart was pounding so thunderously, she thought it might awaken the maids dozing in the outer robing room. She rolled over in flash and by the faint, familiar glow of her moonstone bracelet on her bedside table could just see that there was a dark figure in bed beside her. A man-sized figure.
'Who are you?' she whispered, clutching the silken sheets up to her chin. She was suddenly very aware that the nearest knife was hidden behind a panel inside one of the four soaring bedposts on the far side of the intruder- and that all she was wearing was a black ribbon choker around her neck.
'Dalonder Ree, Harper, here in answer to your summons,' he said.
Alusair let out a great sigh of relief then said, 'I need you to help me!'
Dalonder gazed at the young princess, briefly marveling at the way her eyes almost blazed with excitement and anger. 'Help you how, Princess?' he whispered.
'Vangerdahast senr away my personal champion, an ornrion everyone calls Dauntless, though his real name-'
'I know him. You want him brought back here?'
'Yes!'
'And what's to stop Vangerdahast from just sending him away somewhere worse?' 'I… don't know.'
Dalonder plucked something from a belt pouch, deftly captured a royal hand in the datkness, and pressed the item into her palm.
'What-?'
' Tis just a black leather button. Nothing magical. If someone takes it from you, find another. Think about how you can protect Dauntless if he does return here. When you've thought of something, drop this out yout window into the garden bed below-and I'll come back, probably in this manner. Until then, be aware that Harpers are already watching over Dauntless and the Knights of Myth Drannor.'
