the result of a sorcerous duel between his mother and his wife. A duel Teshla did not loose.
Ambreene wept as she saw herself shielded in her nursery by Teshla's spells. From the first, her Grand- mama had chosen Ambreene to be her friend and sorcerous heir, and shaped her into the role coldly and caleulatingly.
When she came to the end of the long, long years of memories the Eye had seen, Ambreene spent a tearful night on her knees. At last she rose, dry-eyed, Khelben's hated face still burning in her mind.
Why hadn't he stopped Grandmama? He was Lord Mage of Waterdeep, and had a duty. Why had he let Ambreene's mother be blasted to nothing, and the Hawk-winters groomed to Teshla's wishes? He knew her deeds and ambitions, and did nothing. What made him any better than Lady Teshla Hawkwinter?
Nothing. She was gone, leaving behind only spells, the Eye, and… shame. But he lived still, and had dismissed Ambreene without even a look, and let the house of Hawkwinter become what Teshla had twisted it into. And her father did not even know…
That very morning Eremoes Hawkwinter had broken his mourning silence. To the palace and every grand house in the city, he had sent forth invitations to a grand feast. And they would come; Hawkwinter hospitality was legendary.
Khelben Arunsun's name was on one of those invitations… and he would be there. After Ambreene told the
Lady Laeral that she was thinking of studying magic and very much wanted to see the Lord Mage of Waterdeep at Hawkwinter House, Laeral would see that he attended.
Ambreene smiled slowly as she opened a spellbook. The feast was a tenday hence; she had little time to prepare herself to greet Khelben properly. She suspected it might not be all that easy to make an archmage kill himself.
The gate greetings were done, and the many-colored driftglobes she'd conjured (to her father's smiling approval) were becoming useful as dusk drew down. From a distance, across the dance floor, Ambreene smiled and waved at Laeral as the arriving Lord and Lady Mage of Waterdeep were welcomed by her father-and then allowed herself to be swept away into a chalantra by one more would-be suitor.
She'd scarcely recognized herself in the glass when the chamberladies had finished with her, but she could have resembled a sack of unwashed potatoes and still been nearly trampled by every younger noble son of the city. As the night wore on, Ambreene kept a smile firmly on her face and used magic to keep her hair up and her feet just a breath above the tiles. She wasn't nearly as weary and footsore as she should have been after moonrise, when she slipped away from a sweating Talag Ilvastarr and sought somewhere private.
Many couples had stolen away from the laughter, minstrelsy, and chatter to enjoy the beauty of the extensive gardens of Hawkwinter House. A part of Ambreene ached to be giggling and caressing the night away in the arms of a handsome young blade, but she had sworn an oath. It was perhaps the first time she had resolved to do something important with her life. Ambreene Hawkwinter would now keep her oaths. All her oaths.
She was alone in a room that was dark enough. A few gestures and a hissed word, and Ambreene's muscles shifted in the loose gown she'd chosen. It felt peculiar, this sliding and puffing, as she became fatter, her cheeks and chin chubby, her hair russet red. Now no suitor would recognize her as the highly desirable Hawkwinter heiress.
She smiled grimly into the darkness, and went in search of the Lord Mage of Waterdeep.
He was not on the dance floor, nor in any of the noisy, crowded antechambers that gave off it, where older nobles were busy loudly insulting each other, gossiping, gorging, and drinking themselves silly. Nor was he where Ambreene had expected to find him-the dim, smoky rooms on the floor above, where men who thought themselves wise and powerful muttered darkly about plots and trade treaties and the black days ahead for Waterdeep, and added new layers of refinements and pacts to the already labyrinthine entanglements of the city's intrigues.
Ambreene sent a seeking spell on a tour of the bedchambers and servants' rooms. The magical probe left her blushing and her eyebrows raised… perhaps permanently. In one, she found Laeral and her father together- but they were only talking. Relieved at not having to add the Lady Mage of Waterdeep to the ranks of those she must destroy, Ambreene continued her search, but found no trace of Lord Khelben.
Finally, she sighted him far away across the moonlit gardens, speaking to a succession of young party guests idly strolling the grounds. Hmmph. Dispensing wizardly wisdom, no doubt. Ambreene's eyes narrowed, and she cast another spell. There was a sound like the faint jangle of harp strings, and then:
'Grand night, to be sure,' someone who was not there said loudly in her ear, 'but my gut's rolling like a ship being beached through breakers!'
'It's that wine,' another, thinner voice replied. 'If you must try to drink the Hawkwinter cellars dry all by yourself…'
Her spell was working, but where was Khelben's voice? Ambreene frowned and bent her will in the wizard's direction.
A third, cheerful voice said, 'Fair even, Lor-' and then stopped as if cut off by a knife.
Ambreene juggled the fading wisps of her first spell into life once more, and saw the man who must have spoken… a man in a half-cloak, purple hose, and a doublet of slashed golden silk… standing conversing with Khel- ben. Gods-be-damned… the wizard must have a spell-shield up to prevent eavesdroppers from hearing what was said!
Her eyes narrowed. What words, at a party, could be so important that they must be hidden from all?
Then she had a sudden thought, and sent her clairaudi-ence spell whirling back across Hawkwinter House to the private chamber where Eremoes and Laeral sat.
'Your service to the Harp is timely and enjoyable, as always,' the Lady Mage was saying, 'and I want you to know that it is not unappreciated or taken for granted, Lord.'
Ambreene blinked. Her father a Harper? Gods above!
'I know that's not the case,' her father replied, 'but I must confess I had my own selfish reason for this gathering…'
'And would this reason be your youngest daughter's growing mastery of magic?' Laeral asked smoothly.
'It would,' Eremoes Hawkwinter said. 'I know Black-staff Tower always has more would-be apprentices than either you or Khelben have time for, but if you'd be willing to explore her powers… and, I confess, her thoughts and feelings; she's been more affected by my mother's death than her siblings or most folk her age would be… I'd be most grateful. I cannot hire the right tutor until I know her strengths and interests, and to query her directly would upset her, diminish me in her eyes, and yet fail to yield the truth.'
'I can do that in the morning, if you'd like,' Laeral said in kindly tones-and Ambreene shrieked in fear! Her prying spell collapsed.
She must act now! Once Laeral poked into her mind, she'd have no secrets left, and Khelben'd turn her into a frog or bookend or his slave while she was still whimpering under the Lady Mage's mindprobe…
Trembling in haste, Ambreene shifted her form again. A young woman who was alluring indeed raced down the closest stair to the gardens, startling couples out of their embraces as she rushed past, and found the moonlight as quickly as she could.
The succession of Harper agents seemed to have finished their business with the Lord Mage of Waterdeep, and for one chilling moment Ambreene thought Khelben was gone from Hawkwinter House, and she'd missed her chance.
Then she caught sight of him in a far corner of the gardens, sitting alone on a bench in the bright moonlight. Pulling the Eye's chain off over her head, Ambreene held the pendant ready inside her sleeve, panted until she regained control of her breath, and then set off slowly toward her quarry.
This would be her only chance. To keep her oath, she must not fail now. Ambreene moved as quietly as she could without seeming to creep; if Khelben turned his head and saw her, she wanted to look alluring, not like a thief darting guiltily about.
He was stroking his chin as she drew near, and studying the bright belt of stars overhead as if they were telling him something.
'Well met, Lord Wizard,' she said enticingly, when she was only a few paces away. She kept her voice low and rich and laced with laughter, like a seductive courtesan she'd once overheard at the palace entertaining a Cal- ishite merchant. 'Moonlight becomes thee.'
