chamber.
He and Laspeera looked up, ready magic rising crackling into their hands.
'Don't even think of it, wizard!' the Ptincess said, as Tsantress and the seven young noblemen spread out behind her.
Vangerdahast stared past her at the sea of unfriendly noble faces. She watched him recognize each of them in one instant, then in the next put his best 'aghast' expression across his face. 'Who are these?'
'Cormyreans,' Alusair told him. 'The very citizens of Cormyr you are sworn to serve, Court Wizard. Remember?'
'Well, yes, as Court Wizard I am indeed, but as Royal Magician I cannot allow the security of the realm to be imperiled-'
That argument had always left her seething. Its goad was just what she needed right now. 'True, Vangey, but in matters of precedence and formal authority, the Royal Magician takes orders from the Court Wizard, and the Court Wizard is obligated to take orders from me. Not just my father, King Azoun, or my mother or older sister, but from any Obarskyr. So, Court Wizard Vangerdahast, you just tell the Royal Magician to shut up for once and stop defying me and thereby practicing treason-and I'll overlook his open defiance of the Crown. Once.'
Vangerdahast stared at her, mouth opening and closing like that of a large platterfish in the royal fishponds, and said nothing. For once.
The Sword That Never Sleeps streaked through the night, its point cleaving mists and clear air alike. It was racing across Faerun faster than any striking hawk, but it was a long way from Waterdeep to a certain spot in the wilderland forests that currently held the Knights of Myth Drannor.
Old Ghost bore down with his will until it hurt, to make the sword really move.
'Princess,' Vangerdahast said, 'this is none of your business, truly. Rather, it is a secret of the realm that none of these-'
'I'll decide what is, and what is not, a secret of the realm,' Alusair said. 'From this moment on, everything you and everyone else does in Cormyr is my business. Especially things you try to keep secret. So I'm going to be doing a lot of poking and prying and giving you orders. Plenty of orders. Wizard, get used to it!'
Among the grinning nobles, someone sniggered.
'None of that,' Alusair said. 'The man is doing his job-and it's one of the wotst in all the kingdom. Even if he dwelt in a Cormyr entirely empty of snippy little princesses and haughty nobles. Now, Vangerdahast, tell me: Just why is my champion in the heart of a battle outside the realm?'
Vangerdahast stared at her again, his mourh once more opening and closing like that of a large platterfish in the royal fishponds, and said nothing. Again.
'They're not much,' Semoor said, 'but they should at least blunt a spell or two. One from Clumsum and one from me. You're as ready as we can make you. Go wizard hunting.'
'My thanks,' Florin replied. Clapping both of the priests on theit shoulders, he rose and sought the night, Pennae at his side.
'I'm going after them,' Semoor said. 'Just down there, into that stand of trees, to keep watch. Any passing beast can't help but see us up here on this ledge. 'Tis like being on display in a Suzail shop window.'
'Heh,' Dauntless said, 'now you know how lawkeepers feel when we go on patrol into the alleys of Marsember on foggy nights. Or the Stonelands, any time.'
'Hey, what're you doing?' Doust asked. 'What's that?'
'Very strong healing,' the ornrion said, holding up the little steel vial he'd drawn from his belt. 'Given to me by Laspeera, to treat any Knight who needed it.' He waved the vial at Jhessail, slumped on the ledge beside him. 'Like this one.'
Doust looked at Semoor, who nodded reassurance, then looked back at Dauntless.
The ornrion had politely awaited their approval. He thrust two fingers onto the sides of Jhessail's face, opening her jaw-and upended the unstoppered vial into it.
Her tiny form spasmed under his knees, she coughed, and her eyes snapped open.
'What-whooo! What was that?' she asked, trying to slide out from under him. A large, hairy ornrion's hand was prompdy planted on her bosom with a flat disregard for proprieties, pinning her down.
'Hoy, Orn-Dauntless'.' she said. 'Let me up!' 'To do what?'
'Go to wherever the fighting is, and-' 'No.'
'My spells are needed, and-' 'No.'
'Doust! Semoor! Anyone? Get him off me!'
Jhessail struggled, kicking and squirming and elbowing, but the ornrion had her overmatched in size, strength, weight, and position. He easily held her down.
Jhessail cursed, hurling words that would have astonished someone who was judging her by her size and looks.
'If you set out to be a hero, lass,' Dauntless said through her profane fury, 'you're setting out to die. Heroes are something bards create out of real folk who've struggled just to get through some danger or other. Anyone who stops in the heart of peril to think how he'll be regarded is stlarning likely to die a fool's death, right then and there. Now, the line between fool and hero is sometimes hard to see-so sane folk waste no time looking for it. They just do what they have to do or die trying.'
'Ornrion,' Jhessail spat at him, 'your words are very interesting, and I both value them and await with pleasure an opportunity-if we both happen to live so long-to debate them with you, perhaps over goblets of something suitably delicious. But right now, my friends are in peril. So let me up, or so help you, I'll maim you with magic!'
'Fine thanks, that, for healing you,' Dauntless told her sadly, as her vain attempts to jerk free dragged him this way and that along the ledge.
One of her frantic movements turned her enough to catch sight of a familiar face.
'Doust!' she called despairingly-and the priest of Tymora sighed, took hold of one of the ornrion's boots, and twisted, flipping Dauntless over.
In a flash Jhessail jerked free and was gone into the night in a tangle of tossed red hair and a last snarled curse. Dauntless glared at Doust.
The priest had carefully positioned himself so as to block the ornrion's way off the ledge to pursue Jhessail. He smiled, folded his hands in prayer, and offered, 'May the Lady of Luck be with you.'
'You may need her more,' the ornrion glowered, drawing back his fist to punch Doust in the face.
At that moment, a passable imitation of his own voice bellowed-out of the night: 'Ho, Knights of Myth Drannor! 'Tis Ornrion Taltar Dahauntul of the Purple Dragons, Dauntless to most, come to render you all aid in your time of need. Aye, I'm your friend now! Orders have changed!'
Doust, looking at Dauntless, lifted his eyebrows in a silent question.
Staring back at Doust, Dauntless snarled, 'Caztul! Blood of the Lady! Arntarmar and Alavaerthus! Some tluining wizard or sneak-thief is pretending to be me! Gelkor! Talandor! Obey Vangerdahast for one hrasted breath, get plunged into a naeding murdering battle, and some motherless, harcrimmiting teskyre-head is witlessing-well using my name! We'll tluining well see about that! Let me at the bastard! Harcrimmitor!'
Doust grinned. 'You want me to do all of that? At once? Shouldn't you be talking to Semoor?'
There it was again. A small, stealthy sound in the bushes very close by. To the right.
Drathar turned and blasted.
The momentary flare of his strike showed him he'd torn apart defenseless bushes-and the reason why. The thief-wench of the Knights was leaning out from behind a tree with a palm-sized stone in her hand. She'd obviously made those sounds by tossing stones into the bushes and was just as obviously intending to hurl the next one at him.
She was giving him a malicious gtin tight now and drawing back her arm for a throw.
As the glow died away, Drathar flung himself a few steps to the right and crouched down to avoid being hit. His next spell blasted the tree she'd been sheltering behind.
