Pennae a ragged and broken thing, Semoor sprawled and looking just as dead as the thief, and Florin and Islif were wincing in pain as they fought to rise.
Jhessail turned her eyes to Vangerdahast. 'Consider us stopped,' she said to him, her voice a hoarse, husky ruin-and she slumped unconscious in the ornrion's arms.
'Listen to me,' Rhallogant Caladanter told the Royal Palace doot guard. 'I'm noble, damn it.'
He waved a reproving hand at the man and discovered it was trembling. In fact, he was shaking all over. Shaking with fear.
Boarblade, however, seemed as calm as ever as he leaned close to the guard's mustache and said, 'You'll understand that my lord is quite upset. Over a magical matter, if you take my meaning. A matter that might be very important to the safety of all Cormyr. Which is why we need to speak to a senior war wizard. Urgently. We may well be mistaken-I very much hope we are-but as loyal Cormyreans, we dare not take that chance. If you are one,o «dare not take that chance.'
The guard stared at them, as expressionless as ever, then said, 'Wait here.' Stepping away from his closed door, he went a little way along the wall to where a faint magical glow shone, like the light of an invisible lantern, and said into it, 'Young nobleman and his manservant, upset and wanting to see a senior Wizard of War. Both armed, but I see no ready magic.'
Rhallogant couldn't hear any reply, but the guard nodded, muttered, 'Hear and obey,' came back to the door, and rapped on it sharply in a particular rhythm with the hilt of his dagger.
'I'll take your srand,' said a voice from the gloom within, as the guard led Rhallogant and Boarblade inside. The guard nodded, not slowing, and marched to a passage crossing. He turned and snapped, 'This way, please.'
They followed the guard down a passage, then around a corner and along another passage, ere the impassive Purple Dragon stopped at a plain, closed door and flung it open, waving at his two guests to pass him and enter.
They did so, finding themselves in a large room whose walls were hidden behind tapestries. A great, six- candle lantern was hanging from a chain above a large and littered-with-parchments desk, behind which a rather weary-looking war wizard in dusty red robes sat alone, making notes with a bedraggled quill pen.
'I'd view that as a tactic rather than an irenicon,' he was murmuring to a book he was consulting, paying no attention at all to the door opening and the two visitors entering the room.
As the guard drew the door closed again, staying on the far side of it and leaving the two visitors alone in the room with the mage, the wizard made a last note, unhurriedly set aside his book, and looked up at them, his expression neutral but somehow unimpressed.
'Tathanter Doarmund's my name,' he said rather grimly. 'Yours? And your business?'
'Lord,' Boarblade asked respectfully, leaning forward, 'are you a senior war wizard?'
'I believe I have two questions outstanding,' Doarmund replied.
'Of course,' Boarblade said with a smile-plucking a dagger from its sheath behind his back and hurling it at the seated mage as he straightened up.
It struck an unseen ward and clanged aside, harmlessly. Boarblade muttered a swift spell as he turned back to the door, but halfway through the incantation he fell silent and motionless, still as a statue.
Something small bulged under his jerkin as it drew rogerher, then struggled out of the garment undet Boarblade's chin, thrusting out into midair in a strange, amorphous blob that lacked eyes, mouth, and even limbs, yet was obviously alive. In the act of sprouting protrusions, it stopped to hang frozen in midair.
'A hargaunt,' a voice said from behind one of the tapestries. 'Quite harmless until that spell wears off, I assure you.'
The speaker stepped out from behind the tapestry with half-a-dozen war wizards in his wake.
It was Alaphondar, Sage Most Learned of the Royal Court, wearing robes of rich maroon glimmerweave and an irritated expression. He pointed at the dagger on the floor.
'There's poison on that blade,' he told the wizards behind him. 'He'll have more. Be careful.'
He bent his dark and knowing eyes upon the cowering Rhallogant. 'Lord Calandanter, why don't you come with me to where we can sit down while you tell us everything you know about your friend here?'
'Y-y-yes,' Rhallogant managed to stammer. 'Why don't I?'***** Vangerdahast handed out replacement wands to the three standing with him, and the last of the wall of flames died away entirely behind them.
'There goes the shield at our backs,' Laspeera said. 'Should we-'
Whatever she was going to ask was drowned out forever as the liches far down the passage hurled powerful spells. Their magics crashed into the unleashed wandfire and wrestled with it, creating a roiling, growing conflagration that surged back toward the four living Cormyreans.
'This is what I feared would happen,' the Royal Magician said. 'The more we fight, the more their wandering wits sharpen with anger, and they remember how to work spells and clutch at a purpose for doing so.'
'Aye,' Dalonder Ree agreed wryly. 'Destroying us.'
'Indeed,' Vangerdahast said, watching spell after spell batter the whirling magical chaos, driving it nearer. Some spells were managing to win past the struggle, too, despite the wards he'd devised that reached out'to draw in all manner of magics. Even as a sudden jet of flame scorched the stones not far from Laspeera's ankles, an errant magical whirlwind slammed into the ceiling, shredded the protective magics there, and sent a fall of stone down to crash and tumble just behind Lotbryn Deltalon.
Hastily he thrust his own wands into his belt and set about casting another ward spell. The weavewall Elminster had taught him years ago was designed to draw in all manner of magics, like water sucked down a drain in a spinning whorl, but if it went on too long without discharging its snared effects into a creature and took in too many spells, it might well collapse, spilling wild magic everywhere-or explode, destroying them all anyhail.
The new weavewall melted into the old one, flaring momentarily and taming the snarling magics down into a more circular, solid, and smooth doom that drove closer and closer to the Harper and the three wat wizards.
Nearer…
Now a few paces nearer…
Vangerdahast watched grimly as their fate became obvious. The roiling weavewall drew closer still.
When it touched someone, all the spells it had drawn into itself would rush back out of it into that creature. This one was so large that it would slay in an instant, leaving most of its fell magics to leak out in all directions-and probably slay every other creature left in the passage.
Laspeera and Deltalon were both white with fear now, and Vangerdahast judged that the tight-lipped Harper knew what was coming, too.
'Ree, Deltalon-spread out so you can keep your wands on my weavewall,' he ordered, drawing forth the most powerful rod he had from its sheath and twisting it to awaken its magics.
'No, Vangey,' Laspeera said softly. 'No.'
'Yes,' he said, striding forward until the roiling weavewall was right in front of him, and raising the black rod as the colorless gems up and down its length flashed excitedly.
'Royal Magician Vangerdahast,' Laspeera said, 'I believe what you're now about to do is a mistake, and-'
'Laspeera, belt up!' Vangerdahast roared at her. 'Open a portal-don't use that one where the door was-and get everyone out! Including Ree and Deltalon! Everyone!'
'Lord Vanger-' she tried to protest.
But he raised his voice in a furious bellow, 'Obey me! May the one true Purple Dragon damn you! Just stlarning well obey me!'
Then he said something to the rod and stepped forward into the roiling weavewall. The rod flashed in the heart of that blinding chaos-and the weavewall became a roaring torrent of magic that swept down the passage, shredding liches as it went.
Watching skeletons crumble, small fragments of bone hurtle in all directions, and skulls bounce and shatter, Dalonder Ree and Lorbryn Deltalon both swore softly, the fire of their wands steady and sure.
Shaking her head and turning away so they would not see her tears, Laspeera set about obeying Vangerdahast the Royal Magician.
