Silverfall: Stories of the Seven Sisters (forgotten realms)

by Ed Greenwood

  Oscalar Maerbree gave her a wild look, but remained where he was. A slow smile grew on Alustriel's face, and she reached down an arm to help haul him to his feet. The merchant looked at her hand for a moment as if it was the head of a snake that might bite him, then took it, and found himself on his feet with his nose an inch or two from that of the High Lady of Silverymoon. He reeled hastily away, breathing heavily.

  "Have done with mocking me," he snarled, heading for his knives.

  He was snatching them both up from the table when two slender arms went around him from behind, and a cool voice said in his ear, "I don't mock you, Oscalar, and I won't. I wronged you, thinking you a liar. You told me the truth, and to me-or any ruler-that's worth more than a year of fawning and florid compliments. Here."

  Oscalar Maerbree turned around with the daggers raised before him like a defensive wall. Alustriel stretched her perfect white throat between them and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek.

  Oscalar blinked at her. He did not resist when she pushed the daggers aside and put her lips firmly on his.

  He was struggling for air when their battle of tongues ended and Alustriel gently pushed him away, laughing, and said, "Behold your kisses, Sword of Sil shy;verymoon. Now get out of here, and put those daggers away before I have two murders to investigate."

  The wine merchant looked at her with astonishment ruling his face. He tried to speak several times before he managed to ask, "Why?"

  Alustriel put a hand on one hip and struck a smol shy;dering pose of promise against the doorframe. "I know you, merchant. You're going to roll down the hall and out into my city bursting to tell someone about this night. You can't help not flapping your jaws, so I want you to tell all the Moon about kissing me, and not a word about Tradelord Muirtree or murder or you being suspected of it. Do you understand me?"

  Oscalar swallowed at the dark fires that were now back in her eyes, and stammered, "Y-yes, High Lady." He went to one knee, almost falling over, and said in a rush, "You can depend on me, lady! Truly! I–I-"

  "I know I can. Call me Alustriel," the ruler of Sil shy;verymoon said almost affectionately, taking firm hold of the merchant's ears and hauling him to his feet as if he was made of feathers. Tears started into his eyes from the pain of that handling, as he gaped again at her strength, and she grinned at him like the sister of his youth had once done, and added, "Ah, dripping dag shy;gers, man. Have three."

  When her lips came down on his this time, Oscalar Maerbree closed his eyes and steadied himself, daring to reach out and gently hold her shoulders. He very much-and forever-wanted to remember this.

  "There goes one man who will love savagely tonight, then go to bed alone and lie awake thinking of you," Taern Hornblade said gravely.

  Alustriel's head snapped around. Had those words held more than just a hint of wistfulness?

  "Am I too hard on you, most loyal of men?" she asked softly, lifting a hand toward one side of his face.

  Taern shuddered, and put up a firm hand to capture her fingers. "Lady, don't. Please don't. It's hard enough."

  They regarded each other thoughtfully for a moment, then Alustriel bowed her head and said, "Forgive me, Taern." She brought his hand, by means of the fingers he still held, back up between their faces, and added, "This wisdom of yours is why you will rule this city someday."

  "Lady, please don't speak of such things. All I can think of when you say that is your. ."

  "My death?" At his silent nod, Alustriel shrugged. "It will come, one day, and find me. We can none of us hide from it, and I've had far longer a run than most." Her face changed. "Someone helped it find Garthin Muirtree earlier than it should have, however, and I know from your signal that lusty old Oscalar was telling me the simple truth."

  "Lady," Taern told her gravely, "they were all telling the truth-both guards, both pages, and the merchant-or believed they were."

  "So where does that leave us?"

  "Either someone did a lot of spellwork to twist and tamper with a lot of minds-very quickly, and with no traces that I noticed-or someone deceived their eyes, far more simply, earlier this day."

  "Someone wearing a spell-spun likeness of Oscalar met with Garthin, and murdered him," Alustriel mur shy;mured.

  Taern nodded. "Indeed. Which of the others will you question first?"

  The High Lady of Silverymoon smiled thinly. "Flarwood. Then the exalted Tradelord of Luskan, followed by Janthasarde to give us some time to recover from the Luskanite … and Labraster last. Cast a fresh truth field before we begin, and have whoever of the Spellguard is up on the balcony with you hand me down your wineskin for a swallow, before anything else."

  "Wineskin, lady?"

  "Truth, Taern. Simple truth, remember?"

  The Seneschal of the High Palace flushed and asked, "The red wine or the white, lady?"

  "Alustriel, Taern. To you it is Alustriel, or Lustra. White, damn you."

  "Shining Lady, I'm flattered indeed that you've asked to see me this day!" Goodman Draevin Flarwood's bow was so low that he almost knelt. "I'm proud that the Braeder Merchant Collective has caught your eye, amid all the shining successes your rule of justice and peace has made possible."

  "Well," Alustriel said in dry tones, "I like to be over shy;whelmed."

  "Silverymoon is a great city," the merchant said excit shy;edly. "Perhaps the greatest city. I grew up here scarcely appreciating all you've wrought until I traveled the face of Faerun trading, and saw what holds sway else shy;where. There's just one thing, Shining Lady, that puz shy;zles me."

  "And what might that be?"

  "With all this prosperity and love of learning, the Moon's long ties with Everlund, and our growing friendship with like-minded cities of the North, why, High Lady, have you avoided building an army and border castles? Why is your Spellguard not an able force for justice and hunting miscreants, like the War Wizards Cormyr boasts?"

  Alustriel stretched a little on the lounge, and ges shy;tured to him. "Please be seated, Goodman. Here."

  As Flarwood scrambled to obey with the eagerness of a puppy, the ruler of Silverymoon added, "The things you've mentioned are the trappings of war, not the anchors of a realm. I bend my efforts these days to make the folk of the Moonlands feel as if they belong to a kingdom, sharing a realm that is theirs-so in time to come they'll govern themselves, looking to no throne or lineage."

  "But that will take years!" Flarwood protested, lean shy;ing forward in his excitement. "Our children's children will be old before we see this."

  Alustriel leaned forward until her face was close to his and he was looking straight into her eyes. As her long silver hair stirred restlessly about her shoulders she asked gently, "Ah, yes, you've said it perfectly, Good shy;man. For our children's children. Have you ever heard of a better reason to do anything?"

  Draevin Flarwood blinked a little, and she kept silent to give his thoughts some time to spin to a con shy;clusion. She hoped they knew how.

  When he stirred to speak again, the word she'd expected was the first to leave his lips. "But-"

  She held up a stern hand and said gravely, "Goodman Flarwood, it will some day give me great pleasure to debate and discuss the future of the Moonlands, but I know not yet if I’ll have that discussion with you-or if you will be dead."

  Draevin Flarwood blinked for the second time in the same day-possibly a record-then managed to gasp, "Uh. . pardon, lady?"

  "Draevin," she said gently, "you met with Tradelord Muirtree earlier this day, did you not?"

  "Why, yes, and it was a good meeting, very positive for trade. We-uh-that is, I can't discuss what we agreed upon, though of course if you insist, I'll h-"

  "Did you strike Garthin Muirtree with your sword, Draevin?"

  All the color spilled out of Draevin Flarwood's face, leaving it the hue of old bone, and he gasped, "What?"

  "Did you take a weapon to Tradelord Muirtree?"

  "N-no, of course not, Lady Alustriel. He and I are friends. I-"
r />   "Do you know of anyone else desiring to harm the tradelord, or doing so?"

  "No," the merchant replied emphatically, frowning, "but, lady, why do you ask me? Don't you know who hurt Garthin?"

  "And how should I?"

  "Well, doesn't your magic reveal who, the moment you bend your will to ask whom it might be?" When Alustriel silently shook her head, Draevin Flarwood looked almost as if he might cry. "But you hold the power of Mystra in your hands!"

  "In this, good sir," Alustriel replied quietly, "I hold but moonlight in my hands."

  As she looked into the young merchant's gaping face, memory changed it to that of an even younger man, staring and drooling after he'd spent much of a day screaming under the coldly patient fingertips of the Lord Mage of Waterdeep. Khelben had ruthlessly taken apart that man's mind to find the secrets he needed to know to defend Waterdeep against but a dozen smugglers. "For the good of the city," had been the Blackstaff's justification, and she saw again his grim face as he told her those words.

  That grim face changed again, into a younger, laugh shy;ing one with a hawklike nose and the beginnings of a beard. Elminster, rearing her and her sisters with warm, humor-laced kindness so long ago. The easygo shy;ing yet unfailing love that had forged her-forged them all, down the years-led her to her own dignity-to-the-winds rule in Silverymoon, here and now. In the Gem of the North men and women were free to be heroes and fools, and encouraged to love openly. They were all held to be equal, man and woman, elf and dwarf, halfling and human, until they personally proved themselves otherwise.

  Alustriel drew in a deep breath. She could mind-compel Draevin Flarwood or any man, reading his every private thought and recollection, but only at the cost of much time, and burning away many memories-and his will to think, and brilliance in doing so-from his brain. She would not do that, this day. She would never do that. "Never," she hissed.

  "Uh-ah. . Great Lady?"

  Alustriel returned to the here and now with a shiver that shocked the young merchant into speechlessness.

  "You have our leave to depart, Goodman Flarwood," Alustriel told him gently "Say nothing of this to anyone."

  Silently Draevin Flarwood nodded, knelt to her with his hands folded as if in prayer, and backed toward the door, still on his knees. As she winced and leaned for shy;ward to bid him rise, he found his voice again and asked beseechingly, "Tell me but one thing if you would, O Shining Lady. Tradelord Muirtree; will he recover?"

  Alustriel swallowed. "No," she said gently. "No, I don't think so."

  "Tradelords of Luskan," Dauphran Alskyte said coldly, "are not accustomed to being summoned to pri shy;vate audiences with unescorted women, and there accused of murder. In case you've not noticed, Great Lady, I am a tradelord of Luskan."

  "The fact has not escaped our discernment, most charming sir," Alustriel purred, feeling Taern's silent growl of anger from the balcony above. It made her own irritation more easily turn into amusement. "Will you take wine?"

  The Luskanite barked out a short and mirthless laugh. "I thank you, but no. A considerably more foolish man than the one you see standing before you would know better than to partake of what may be drugged-so he might thereafter awaken in the throes of execution for any number of falsified crimes, to the great cost-and displeasure-of my masters in Luskan."

  Alustriel shrugged. "You may well be more familiar with drugs and deceit, most wise sir, than myself. . or any who can command spells to achieve their ends."

  The door behind the Luskanite opened then. Taern showed himself just long enough to make the clear, unmistakable gesture that meant some magical defense or other carried by the waspish tradelord was blocking his truth reading, then disappeared again.

  Dauphran Alskyte showed how closely he was watch shy;ing Alustriel's eyes by whirling around, in time to see the door close. He whirled at once back to face Alustriel again.

  "It seems, Lady," he said icily, "that you are rather less a stranger to deceit than you claim to be … unless that was a sophisticated Silverymoon method of bring shy;ing us fresh air, perhaps? Or something else you'd care to enlighten me about?"

  The High Lady of Silverymoon regarded her unwill shy;ing guest through half closed eyes, calling on the abil shy;ity to feel magic that Mystra imparts to all of her Chosen. Taern's truth field briefly revealed itself as a shining net laid over the chamber. Against it stood a small, dark shroud, enveloping the Luskanite and cen shy;tered at his throat. Alustriel opened her eyes again. There; that amulet.

  "No," she said coldly, "I would not care to enlighten you."

  Given time enough, she could infiltrate the amulet's enchantment, drifting past its defenses without shat shy;tering or altering the magic, then mind-read Alskyte to confirm when he spoke the truth. A simple detection of falsehood would do his wits no harm, so long as she didn't try to force him to think of specific things-to hunt down the memories she needed to see. Goading words could, of course, turn his thoughts just as surely.

  "Have you any fresh accusations to hurl at me, Exalted Ruler?" the Luskanite snapped. "Or am I free to go, leaving you to sink back into your web of suspi shy;cions and feeblewittedly imagined conspiracies?"

  "Dauphran Alskyte," Alustriel replied, sinking back into where she could let her perception drift out, "you have much still to answer. The small matter of Talanther's missing figurines, for instance."

  The tradelord went white, showing her his guilt as clearly as if he'd babbled it before all her hushed court. "You dare-?" he hissed.

  "I rule here, Dauphran," Alustriel reminded him gently. "For the safety of my people, I dare everything."

  Aflame with rage, the Luskanite failed to notice the hesitant, half-asleep edge to her tone, or her nearly closed eyes. He shook his fists as he strode angrily around a table toward her, shouting, "I've never been treated with such insolence, wench! Accused of this, accused of that! D'you think we of Luskan are so crack-witted that we go around openly offending against the laws of trade and of state? Do you think we are all so governed by greed that we can't control ourselves from thievery and connivance from one moment to the next?"

  His shrieks were echoing back at him from the far and dark corners of the room now. As he paused, eyes glittering, to snarl in more air and begin anew, Alus shy;triel rose from the lounge and said simply, "Yes."

  Dauphran Alskyte stared at her, mouth agape. She knew, now, that he was telling the truth about the murder, and that he was boiling with rage, barely keep shy;ing himself from leaping on her to claw with his hands, bite, and kick. . something he'd done often to any number of Luskanite women. Those glimpsed mind-images made Alustriel's voice cold indeed when she said, "We do not propose to waste our time with you fur shy;ther this fair evening, Luskanite. We know of your guilt over the figurines, and your innocence regarding the unfortunate passing of Tradelord Muirtree, and we are frankly sick of your childish raging and insults. You will depart from our city by highsun tomorrow. If you do so in possession of something that is not yours, or tarry within our walls a breath longer than the decreed time, my armsmen shall take great pleasure in urging you on your way with whips. I shall instruct them to try to avoid any blows to your backside … we would not want to harm what few wits you possess."

  The tradelord swayed, trembling, and for a moment she thought he would rush at her, but instead he spat, "You have no authority over me, wench!"

  "Oh?" The High Lady of Silverymoon lifted both of her eyebrows. "You'd obey any one of the High Cap shy;tains-and any utterance from the Hosttower, too. Why, then, should you balk at obeying a ruler of equal rank, merely because she's a woman, and alone?"

  Dauphran Alskyte opened his mouth to reply, then shut it again without saying anything. Alustriel didn't need the mindtouch that she'd let go to know that he was now realizing the weight of some of the words he'd used to her, and feeling the first touches of real fear. No wonder; were he in Luskan, he'd have been horribly and painfully slain some time ago for speaking so.

  "T
his feeble-witted, deceitful, suspicious, and, yes, insolent wench is done with you, Alskyte," she told him calmly. "Keep silent as you leave us."

  The little smile she gave him then had no mirth in it. The tradelord met her eyes for an instant, then looked away. He managed to suppress a shudder, but the weight of her cold gaze chilled his back and shoulders all the way to the door, and he began to hurry long before he reached it.

  Janthasarde Ilbright was short, buxom, and enthusi shy;astic. If she'd been an apprentice mage, she'd have been what one of the senior Spellguard wizards was wont to term, in distasteful terms, "perky." Her nature quickly overcame her awe of Alustriel, but she had little to add to the High Lady's knowledge.

  She'd met Tradelord Muirtree on several of his pre shy;vious visits to the city. If he was being impersonated by someone employing a magical disguise, or been ill at ease at their meeting, she'd noticed nothing amiss. She cheerfully surrendered her written roster of Muirtree's planned upcoming meetings, and confirmed what Alustriel saw at a glance. It held nothing out of the ordinary.

  When she'd been thanked and sent back to her duties, Alustriel and Taern exchanged glances. The courtier had been telling the truth, and that left them back at Auvrarn Labraster.

  Alustriel squared her shoulders, sighed, and said to Taern, "Let the battle begin."

  He nodded and went out, not smiling.

  Glossy brown hair shone in the lamp's glow as Auvrarn Labraster set his square handsome jaw, and frowned. "I had not heard of Muirtree's fate, no," he said in a deep, mellifluous voice. "On this visit to your fair city, I've largely kept to my rooms-avoiding, as it hap shy;pens, much of the gossip that skulks about this palace."

  Alustriel gave him a wintry smile. "Would that more of my subjects behaved thus," she granted, then shifted forward on the lounge and asked, "I've heard from others that you and Tradelord Muirtree have had some sharp disagreements in the past. Is this so?"