name-until we know a lot more about Faerun. These Red Wizards'll bear a lot of watching. They could be almost as much trouble as Elminster was. The Zhentarim, on the other hand, seem more persistent than competent. Would you say that sums up what she said?'
Lorgyn nodded. 'I would… and so long as we keep these things in mind, and keep humans from realizing that there are shapeshifters among them, nothing and no one stands between us and our ruling any part of Faerun that we please. You'll take your preferred lands, and I'll take mine.'
'I want to see those lands for myself first,' Bralatar replied as they shared a grin. 'And what better way than to have some real fun hunting this time, across half Faerun!'
'Chasing down wizards?'
'Chasing down and slaughtering,' Bralatar said with a sudden flame in his eyes, 'any humans we fancy.'
16
Only the eyes of the two guards moved to follow him as Lord Mourngrym of Shadowdale strode past the door of the forecourt, heading for the kitchens. He'd come straight in from a patrol in the northern reaches of the dale, and there was fresh blood-Zhent blood-on his mud-spattered armor. He was bareheaded and unshaven, and his reddened, sunken eyes told of little sleep and hard going.
'Belmer!' he called back, turning, as he went on. 'Get something hot from the kitchens, and a bottle of zzar, and take it to the Old Skull as quick as you can. A lady guest is giving birth, and the father needs a good meal and a walk with someone who's been a father not long past-so the gods've chosen you!'
'Aye, Lord,' Belmer said with a smile, and left his post just inside the front doors to rush down the hall. Guthtar, who'd heard the exchange, was already moving to take his place.
Mourngrym stuck his head through the kitchen door, dipped a flagon into the stew pot, brought it out dripping, put a towel underneath it, and turned back down the hall, armor rattling in his haste.
'That too, Lord?' Belmer asked, hesitating.
'No, this is my evenfeast,' Mourngrym told him with a grin. 'Sylune tells me the audience chamber is full of folk with troubles, so I'll be eating on the throne again. Just tell the cooks to send someone to the chamber a little later on to see if any of the supplicants are in need of something hot to eat.'
Belmer turned pale at the mention of the Witch of Shadowdale, and muttered some prayer or other under his breath as he went into the steam-filled, noisy, bustling kitchens.
For a moment, Mourngrym stopped beside Guthtar with the steaming flagon in his hand. 'Good Guthtar-tell Thurbal from me that I want all of you men to do half shifts until I order otherwise. You've been done out of a lot of sleep, and it's time someone gave some back to you.'
The normally terse Guthtar practically bounded into a salute. 'Aye, my lord!' he said.
Mourngrym chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder. 'I thought you'd find those orders rode easier than most.' He turned to the forecourt and nodded to his two new guards as he stepped between them. They stiffened in salute.
When the double doors of the audience chamber boomed closed and they heard the guards within thunk their spears on the stone floor, Argast turned his head to be sure the forecourt was now empty. Finding it so, he said to Amdramnar, 'In spite of myself, I begin to respect this young lordling. If one is to be a weakling, why not go all the way and serve the people rather than commanding them?'
Amdramnar nodded. 'I like him, too-but 'tis too early to tell… until we can spend a session or two in there, hearing him sit in judgment.'
They fell hastily silent as Guthtar moved closer to open the door for the departing Belmer. Though they'd slain two of the newly hired Westgate men and taken their shapes, the two Malaugrym hadn't had a chance to hear either of their victims speaking-in a sober state, at least-and didn't want anyone to overhear them now and think the speech of Aunsible and Haratch had suddenly and curiously changed.
Belmer went out of the tower, and a magnificently robed, bearded man of middling years came in, with the Lady Shaerl on his arm. The holy hammer of Tyr, worked in silver, rode on a heavy chain around his neck. 'I find Shadowdale dispirited for the first time since the Knights of Myth Drannor rode into it for their first time,' he was saying in a rich, sonorous voice, 'and that is ill. Have you had much trouble in this time of strife?'
'We are only days away from turning back the armies of Zhentil Keep, good justicar,' Shaerl said gently, 'a victory that cost us greatly. The Witch-Queen of Aglarond-'
The two guards clearly heard the priest's hiss of indrawn breath as he was turning to walk between them at that moment. He looked awed.
'— tells us that the Zhent troops were led by the god Bane himself. In the fight against him, the temple of Lathander, which formerly stood across the way, was destroyed, along with the archmage Elminster and, some have testified under oath, the goddess Mystra, herself.'
The priest came to an abrupt halt. 'You credit this to be true?' he asked, his voice incredulous.
'I do, holy lord, and can produce witnesses whose testimony will, I know, impress you,' Shaerl said firmly.
The priest waved a dismissive hand. 'Well enough, so let us grant that the tales are true. Bane, Mystra, and Elminster all destroyed along with that temple over there.' He drew a deep breath, shook his head, and bid gruffly, 'Say on.'
'Over half of our soldiers fell in defending the dale,' Shaerl told him, 'and are now pyre ashes; scarce a farm in this dale did not lose someone. Moreover, magic has gone wild here, and Storm Silverhand, the Bard of Shadowdale, has been missing for five days.'
The priest suddenly looked very old, and felt behind him for the bench he knew was there. Shaerl smoothly guided him to it, keeping hold of his hand as the justicar of Tyr sank down onto the bench and whispered hoarsely, 'Storm. I… we were very close, once. I'd hoped to see her this night, after my audience with the youn-with your Mourngrym.'
Shaerl patted his arm. 'She told us she was looking forward to your visit, because you had been so noble to her,' she said softly. 'She spoke of your valor and kindness.'
For just a moment, the proud priest looked like a young boy-a young boy on the verge of tears. 'She did?' he asked, his voice rising in wonder.
'Yes,' Shaerl said, 'and I've never known her judgment to be wrong yet. I feel as if you are an old friend.'
Argast leaned a trifle closer to Amdramnar and muttered, 'She's smooth, this one.'
Amdramnar agreed with the slightest of nods, but just then the doors between the audience chamber and the forecourt scraped open and three farm folk came out. 'The gods bless him!' the stout old woman in the forefront was saying.
'If he keeps his promise,' her hired hand said doubtfully as they went out, not even seeing the two people on the bench.
The old woman turned and poked out a bony finger. 'Now ye list and learn, Thurton! If there's one thing this young lord of ours does, it's keep his word! When my man, Undlejack, was still alive, he won a hand of card's off Mourngrym, playin' the night away at the Old Skull, and the lord asked him his price… A new roof, my man says, as bold as anything-'cuz that's what we needed, in truth-an' the next day, gods be blowed if the lord doesn't show up with half a dozen guards, n' do the roof right then! The lord himself, up on our cottage, sweatin' along with the rest of 'em! And when he's done, he asks if we want the fence set straight, seein' as they're here… an' up comes a cart, after, when we're talkin'-and out of it he serves us a feast, an' the neighbors what come to watch, too! Tells us it's no more'n we deserve!'
She turned and marched out of the forecourt, then pivoted back to face the astonished Thurton. 'Ye find me another lord anywhere as does that for me-an' others what ain't high and mighty, an' can't do him anything great in return! Ye'll be lookin' from the Sword Coast to the weird lands past Thay, an' not be findin' one, neither!'
