Ed Greenwood, Elaine Cunningham, Barb Hendee, Elaine Bergstrom,R.A.Salvatore, Christie Golden, David Cook, James M.Ward, Denise Vitola, J. Robert King, Troy Denning, Mark Anthony, Jane Cooper Hong, Mary H. Herbert, James Lowder, Roger E. Moore
Realms of Infamy
Contents
Ed Greenwood… So High a Price
Elaine Cunningham…The More Things Change
Barb Hendee…The Meaning of Lore
Elaine Bergstrom…Raven’s Egg
R.A.Salvatore…The Third Level
Christie Golden…Blood Sport
David Cook…Gallows Day
James M.Ward…A Matter of Thorns
Denise Vitola…Stolen Spells
J. Robert King…The Greatest Hero Who Ever Died
Troy Denning…Twilight
Mark Anthony…The Walls of Midnight
Jane Cooper Hong…And Wringing of Hands
Mary H. Herbert…Thieves’ Honor
James Lowder…Laughter in the Flames
Roger E. Moore…Vision
So High a Price
Ed Greenwood
So high a price
So willingly paid
Hot blood flows
And a ruler is made.
Mintiper Moonsilver
Ballad of a Tyran
Year of the Turret
Sunlight flashed from the highest towers of Zhentil Keep and flung dazzling reflections through nearby windows. It was a hot Mirtul day in the Year of the Blazing Brand.
A ledgebird darted past one window, wheeled on nimble wings, and called like a carefree trumpet. But then, it did not know how little time it had left to live.
Manshoon smiled slightly and crooked a finger. The bird exploded in a puff of green flame. Humming the latest minstrel tune, the wizard watched scorched feathers drift away. Trust a bird of Zhentil Keep to fly unwittingly to its doom, singing off-key. Well, things might not be that way much longer…
The first lord of Zhentil Keep smiled as he caught sight of himself in an oval mirror floating upright in a corner. The image, jet-black hair gleaming, returned the expression. Its robes were of the finest purple silk, worked with rearing behirs in gold. The sleeves were the latest flaring fashion, and the upswept collar was cut in the style of city lords.
With the faintest of rustlings, Taersel drew a hanging tapestry aside and murmured, 'The one you expected is here, Lord.'
Manshoon signaled for his servant to bring the guest and withdraw, but then to wait unseen behind a tapestry. To show he understood, Taersel touched the hilt of the throwing knife hidden in his ornate belt buckle.
'Arglath,' Taersel announced, then bowed out. The cloaked guest moved forward with a strange gliding motion, as if his feet didn't quite touch the floor.
'Yes?' Manshoon asked coldly.
His guest shrugged off his cloak and replied in tones just as glacial, 'I presume you're finally ready to move?'
'I believe so,' Manshoon said flatly.
His guest had soft, unfinished features. On second glance, most folk would have guessed him a mongrelman- something not quite human-and have drawn back, muttering and reaching for weapons. They'd have acted rightly.
Hair melted and fell away as the man's features swam, glistened, and split to reveal a single green, liquid eye. That unblinking orb grew until Manshoon looked into a giant eye that swayed at the end of a long, snakelike neck. The body beneath hung shrunken and empty, like discarded clothes drooping from a wall peg.
'Speak, then,' the strange visitor's cold voice came again. 'I've little patience for humans who enjoy being mysterious.'
Manshoon gave his guest a wintry smile. 'There will be open slaughter at the next council meeting. Those who oppose me will die there. When Zhentil Keep is mine, your kind will have what they desire: a powerful city full of hands to do your bidding, fresh meat to feed you, and men who fear and kneel before you.'
'Do not presume to understand my kind so well,' the creature responded, drifting slightly nearer. 'More than that, Manshoon, do not presume to understand-or imagine that you can command-
A gasp of horror came from behind a nearby tapestry. Then a crossbow bolt burst out of that same curtain, whipped across the chamber, and was driven sharply aside by an unseen magical force just in front of the floating eye. The bolt ended its flight in a splintering crash against a wall.
Eyes opened in the ends of the monster's still lengthening stalks. One blinked.
The tapestry drew aside by itself to reveal the mouth of a passage-and Taersel, who was now sprawled on his face, crossbow still in his hands. Thin wisps of smoke rose from his body.
'It is not wise,' the eye tyrant said silkily, 'to threaten 'my kind.''
Manshoon stared into the beholder's many eyes and replied steadily, 'I am too useful for you to slay-and too wise to attempt an attack upon you.' He nodded at his sprawled servant. 'This man acted of his own accord to protect me. Foolhardy, yet he is as useful to me as I am to you. I trust he has not been harmed.'
'Not overmuch.' The beholder drew nearer, its many eyes yellow with displeasure. 'When next you speak in council, we shall be there. Yet know this, Lordling: unless you and your minions take greater care, a day of harm may soon come to you all.'
'Unless we take great care,' Lord Chess said in an inner room of another tower not far from Manshoon's home, 'a day of harm may soon come to us all.'
The other nobles at his table shifted in their seats. Most of the city's young noblemen were present. Some hid nervousness by taking flamboyant sips of the Mulhorandan lion-wine in their goblets. Others assumed superior smiles and settled into even more indolent poses in their great, finely carved chairs.
'We do not fear upstart mages,' one said with a practiced sneer. 'Our sires and our grandsires smashed
