Silverfall: Stories of the Seven Sisters (forgotten realms)

by Ed Greenwood

  Labraster shrugged. "We're both vigorous bargain shy;ers. I harbor no ill will toward the man."

  "And did your meeting earlier today end cordially?"

  "For my part, it did," the merchant from Waterdeep said flatly. "Muirtree was fine when last I saw him." He jerked his head up at the balcony above and added, his words almost a bitter challenge, "Have your tame wizard confirm the truth of that."

  "What magic can uncover, magic can also conceal. . or distort," Alustriel replied calmly.

  "Lady," the Waterdhavian replied, his handsome fea shy;tures twisting into a snarl of exasperation, "how could I tear a man apart? With this?"

  His hand tore a knife from its sheath at his belt, and he waved it high in the air, well away from the High Lady. Its tiny blade glittered in the lamp glow as Auvrarn Labraster sprang to his feet, flourishing the belt knife in mockery of a battle knight brandishing a great two-handed sword.

  "This," he roared, "is the only weapon I brought with me to your city-the only weapon I customarily carry. With it, I do great violence to cheese, and bread, and chops at the table. Pitted against fruit, I am a lion of savagery!"

  Labraster tossed the knife into the air, caught it, thrust it back into its sheath with such force that his belt and breeches seemed destined to descend to his boots, and spat, "Now I've had enough of this foolery, High Lady. You offer little jabbing questions, worse than thrusts with such a blade. You insinuate, needle, mock, but never openly accuse, because you haven't a shred of proof against me."

  He raised a finger to point at her as violently as if it had been a weapon, and snarled, "And you know what? You never will. I raised no hand against Garthin Muirtree. I did him no harm, he was hale and hearty when last we looked upon each other, and no honest examination, with spells or otherwise, will be able to conclude anything else."

  He strode away, then turned, his arms spread in defi shy;ant mockery. "And we hear often back in Waterdeep how honest is fair Alustriel of Silverymoon, the Lady Hope of a nascent nation. Well, then, High Lady and Most Honest Alustriel, have done. Let me be. My ears threaten to shrivel up and drop off from all these biting, suspicious, endless little questions."

  Auvrarn Labraster spun on his heel and stormed out of the chamber without waiting for a reply or dismissal. Before the door banged, his snarls of fury could be heard echoing away down the hall outside.

  Taern came forward to the lip of the balcony. "His fury kindled very suddenly. One might even say conve shy;niently."

  "Mmmm," was Alustriel's only reply, as she bit her lip and stared at the closed door.

  "Now what, my lady?"

  Alustriel whirled around to stare up at her seneschal. "Who knows how the tradelord died?" she asked softly. "Did you or anyone you know of tell Labraster that Muirtree was torn apart?"

  "No.." Taern replied slowly, his eyes narrowing. He acquired a frown and added, "but lady, he was telling the truth in every word he uttered to you."

  "Yet for all his rage," Alustriel said thoughtfully, "he chose his words carefully-very carefully. I think it's time Auvrarn Labraster and I had a little meeting of the minds … if you take my meaning."

  Taern nodded. "If-however unlikely it seems-he's innocent," he asked soberly, "and your probing ravages his wits forever?"

  His High Lady looked back at him grimly. "That's a price I'll have to risk," she replied. "I've done worse. . and not all of my ill deeds have been inadvertent or through ignorance. A few-a very few-have even been done with glee."

  "And this one?"

  Alustriel gave her old friend a thin smile. "No, not this one. Not yet."

  Their eyes met in wordless silence for the space of a breath before she turned toward the door, adding over her shoulder, "I'll do this alone, Taern. If I should fall, you know what to do."

  The door closed behind the Lady Hope of Silverymoon, leaving Taern alone in the room. The man they called Thunderspell promptly leaped down from the balcony like a young adventurer, landing heavily on his hands and knees. He crawled forward a little way and bent his head to gently kiss the floor where her bare feet had trodden. Here, and there, he crawled on, miss shy;ing not a single place.

  When he reached the door, he scrambled up, wincing at the pains in his knees and his back, then rushed out into the hall, limping as he trotted. A guard gave him a puzzled frown, but the Master Mage of the Spellguard waved away the unspoken query. He had to get to a particular chamber fast-to where he could watch over Alustriel and assist her with his spells, should she need aid.

  Not that one mage could hope to prevail where the Art of a Chosen fails, he thought wryly, but he can die trying. I love her that much, and more.

  Alustriel slipped into an antechamber, slid behind a cloak stand, and did something to the wall behind it. The wall obligingly sighed inward, and she plunged into dusty darkness.

  Should he be the sort of villain who sniffs out secret passages, or has so many intrigues a-dance at once that he goes not to his own chambers, Alustriel thought grimly, I may yet lose him. Her mood lightened then, and she almost giggled. Sweet Lady Mystra! Now I'm sorting my villains.

  Her fingertips, trailing along an unseen wall, told her she'd passed two openings. When she came to the third she turned down it, hurried along until her out shy;stretched hand found a wall, and turned to the left. There was a handle here. . ah!

  Light almost dazzled her as she stepped boldly out into the Ten Tapestries Chamber. Four sets of guest apartments opened off this reception room, and the only one in use right now housed Auvrarn Labraster.

  The room was deserted, so palace servants and courtiers were spared the sight of their High Lady run shy;ning like a schoolgirl from one door to another, sealing off all ways into and out of the Ten Tapestries Chamber except the secret way she'd used, and the main door that Labraster should come storming through in a few moments. A scant two paces shy of that door, Alustriel whirled to one wall, plucked two cloak stands over together, and stood motionless between them. She had just time to draw in one deep, gasping breath when the door banged open, and Labraster came striding through.

  "Stupid bitch!" he was snarling. "Poking and prying like a priestess running a convent. How, by all the bright, blazing-"

  The merchant's cursing hid the small sounds of Alus shy;triel raising her ward across the door, then striding along in his wake. She'd reached the open center of the chamber when he encountered the ward across the door to his chambers, and recoiled with a wordless hiss of pain and amazement, breaking off his oaths in mid word.

  Labraster shook his head, then thrust himself for shy;ward again as if there'd been some mistake. When the pickling, searing sparks of warning rose up before him once more, he snarled, whirled around, and saw her.

  Silence fell and Auvrarn Labraster came to a halt in the same instant, dropping his anger like a cloak as he stared at her. His scrutiny was that of a warrior, seeking what weapons she held ready or hints as to what she might do next. His hand darted to his knife, then fell away.

  The merchant peered this way and that around the room, seeking guards waiting in the shadows or behind the huge, hanging tapestries, but the room was empty, and looked it.

  "Lady," he asked flatly, "what're you playing at?"

  "Uncovering the truth about Garthin Muirtree's death, Goodman Labraster," Alustriel replied, her eyes locked on his.

  "Is there something wrong with your hearing?" he asked, and without waiting for a reply added slowly, spacing each word with biting emphasis, as if rebuking an imbecile: "I. Did. Not. Slay. Muirtree."

  "Then you won't mind my doing this," Alustriel responded, her eyes boring into his as she strode for shy;ward.

  He was falling into those twin pools of hungry dark shy;ness, he was. . gods!

  "Lady," Labraster protested, as the first twinges of pain in his head sent a spasm across his handsome face, "this is neither right nor just. . this is tyranny!"

  "You stand in my power," she replied softly. "In my realm, wherein my
word is law. Be not so quick to cry tyrant, Goodman. Innocent folk, I find, object but little to my actions."

  The Waterdhavian snarled under her mind probe, clawing at his forehead and struggling to back away. "Witch!" he spat. "I'll-"

  He waved his arms, shrank down, then. . changed. There was a moment of blurred confusion before Alustriel's eyes, then something much larger rose up before her in the lamplight. It was something huge, black, and broad-shouldered, its mandibles clicking as it took its first lumbering step toward her.

  An umber hulk! The High Lady's eyes narrowed. An illusion? She took a swift step to one side.

  The floor shook, ever so slightly, under the tread of its great claws. It ground its teeth, its mandibles clack shy;ing again as it opened a mouth that could easily close around her body, engulfing her down to her waist. It swung that great head to follow her movement. Its arms were even longer than its squat, mighty legs, and bore claws that were even larger. Talons that could cleave solid stone like butter flexed and arched open, reaching for her.

  It was big, even for an umber hulk, and the yellow-gray of its belly and chest was purplish green around the edges. It seemed almost to burst with energy, vibrating with glee as it advanced.

  Shoulders as broad as a wagon shifted, black scales glinting as the beast turned to face her squarely, its black eyes flickering. As she met their fourfold gaze, Alustriel felt the familiar numbness that mages cre shy;ated with the spell called "confusion." It was a floating, disembodied feeling that one who was not a Chosen would not have been able to simply shake off.

  Aye, this was the real thing, all right, a Burrower Through Stone and not a spell-woven disguise. Did Labraster see through its eyes, from afar? Or control it unseen, from a few paces away? Or. .?

  As claws that could tear her apart like a thing of paper and feathers descended to do just that, Alustriel knew she was looking at what had slain Garthin Muirtree. She called on one of the magics that by the grace of Mystra was with her always, and those descending claws froze in midair, held motionless.

  "Care to return, Labraster?" she asked, trying to probe the black, impenetrable eyes of the hulk.

  Her answer was another instant of blurring, and the monster was gone. In its place stood a gaunt man in purple robes, his eyes cold and hard. The ends of a crim shy;son sash rippled at his waist as he bowed, and announced, "Azmyrandyr of Thay am I. Your doom, lady." The fingers of his flourished hands were moving as he spoke, wrig shy;gling like the legs of an agitated spider.

  In unison Red Wizard and Chosen of Mystra each took a step backward, away from each other. As she moved, Alustriel silently called on another of her innate magics, raising a shell to quell all magic around herself.

  "I seldom welcome Red Wizards into my palace, sir," she said coldly, "even when they come to my gates in peace. Your visit here is unlikely to be hospitable."

  Azmyrandyr merely smiled, letting his smirk slide into a sneer as his spell took effect and the room exploded in flames.

  A sphere of clear air surrounded Alustriel and the Red Wizard. He strode forward with something sparkling in his hand. Outside it, hitherto unseen globes of fire burst with force enough to shake the High Palace, transform ten tapestries into as many raging torches, and scour the rest of the room with roaring flames.

  Azmyrandyr of Thay smiled a tight, cruel smile as the true target of his magic collapsed with a roar, and announced, "A slight refinement of the traditional meteor swarm spell."

  The riven ceiling of the chamber plunged down on Alustriel in a rain of tumbling panels and flaming frag shy;ments. Struggling under the cascade of embers, Alus shy;triel managed to stagger the first four steps of a charge at the Red Wizard before a tangle of blazing timbers smashed her flat.

  Tendrils of silver hair roiled angrily among the wreck shy;age, and Azmyrandyr eyed them warily as he took two quick steps forward and tossed a small, sparkling stone onto the floor, springing hastily back as the last burning pieces of the ceiling crashed down, bounced, and rolled away in all directions. As the stone landed, the sphere of nothingness that had kept the flames at bay melted away. The last, dying tongues of flame swept over hith shy;erto untouched stretches of carpet around the smolder shy;ing heap wherein Alustriel lay.

  "Wild magic stone brings down antimagic shell," the Red Wizard said calmly, for all the world as if he were describing a move in a chess game.

  Nimbly stepping around the small fires still rising here and there about the blackened carpet, he backed out of range of the stone and raised both hands to weave another spell.

  Rubble shifted and sagged away. Something sprang up from the blazing heart of the debris, somersaulting to one side in a tangle of long, flowing silver hair and smoke. Azmyrandyr's jaw dropped as the dainty High Lady of Silverymoon landed, vaulted without pause over another heap of rubble, and sprinted toward him, her gown smoldering around her and her lips snarling out an incantation as she came.

  Hastily he abandoned his casting and stepped to one side. Something crunched under his feet, and he found flames rising around him. Hastily the Red Wizard moved again, but by then the furious face of one of the fabled Seven Sisters was almost touching his, and her bare hands were reaching for him. He slapped one hand away, and the other drove into his ribs, glancing off bone and away in a wet, slicing glide that left sear shy;ing pain in its wake.

  Azmyrandyr of Thay screamed and hurled himself back, heedless of what flames he might stagger through. He fetched up against a scorched wall and stared at Alustriel's open hand. Her fingers were drip shy;ping with his blood as she advanced on him, entirely ignoring the waist-high flames she strode through.

  A bleak smile touched her lips. "Laeral's Cutting Hand," she announced, her tones a mockery of his own.

  The Red Wizard shrank away, then, as Alustriel's hand swept down, was lost in a blur of spell-shot air. Her descending fingers struck the naked blade of an upthrust sword that was held awkwardly in both hands by a younger Red Wizard, robed like Azmyrandyr, but sporting oiled, glistening black hair and a beard to match. There was apprehension on his face, but also, rising to overwhelm it, a fierce delight.

  Waves of tingling nausea swept over Alustriel, and she fell back with silver fire licking around her hand. That gave her new assailant all the time he needed to rise and thrust his blade right through her belly.

  She could not even find breath enough to scream.

  "Taste a Sword of Feebleminding, Chosen of Mystra!" he shouted in triumph. His laughter rose above the crackling and snapping of the dying fires all around them. "Haha! You'll probably find it hard to serve your goddess well, drooling and mumbling your way around this palace for the rest of your days."

  Alustriel staggered back, moaning, her agonies snatching the sword from the wizard's hands. He let it go to stand and gloat.

  "Oh," he cried mockingly, putting a hand to his forehead as the High Lady of Silverymoon stared down at the blade beneath her breasts and sobbed forth spurts of silver fire, "I've quite forgotten my manners. I am Roeblen. . of Thay, but I'm sure you guessed that-back when you still could guess any shy;thing."

  The wizard watched Alustriel sink to her knees, tug shy;ging feebly at the hilt of the sword to draw it forth, and laughed again. Striding over to her, he reached down for the hilt of his blade.

  "Is there something more you'd like me to do for you, perhaps?" he mocked. "I've a sharp dagger ready for your fingers and tongue. Once spellcasting is beyond you, perhaps we could play. We could trade spells, you and I. Show me a spellbook, and I'll cast a painquench on you, eh? It should last just long enough for you to take me to your next spellbook, hmm? Or can't you understand such things anymore?"

  The Red Wizard shook his head in mock sorrow. "Such a pity," he told her. "I was looking forward t-"

  The woman on her knees before him growled, set her teeth, and wrenched forth the sword. It promptly exploded into starry shards.

  As silver flames snarled forth from her in its wake, Alustriel raised e
yes that blazed with pain to glare at Roeblen as she held up one hand over her head and a slender black staff appeared in it.

  Roeblen's eyes narrowed. "A staff of Silverymoon, no doubt," he murmured, raising his hands to deliver a smiting spell.

  One end of the staff lifted a little, and he changed his mind, backing hastily away.

  "Wise of you, Red Wizard," Alustriel gasped, her breath a plume of silver flame as she climbed the staff to stand unsteadily upright, clapping a hand that glowed to the wound in her belly and gathering her will to begin what was necessary. " 'Twould have been wiser still not to have come here at all."

  Roeblen spread his hands. "Such was not my inten shy;tion, High Lady. I'm linked into the cycle. Azmyrandyr's calling isn't something I can resist. I saw you only an instant before I was brought here, and had just time enough to snatch down my best creation.. which you promptly destroyed."

  Alustriel spread her own hands precisely as he had done, as her healing spell spread its soothing tendrils through her body. "A pity I'm immune to feebleminded shy;ness, isn't it?"

  Roeblen's face twisted into a sneer. "For a mage cen shy;turies old, you're not very swift witted, are you? Only a fool yields information to an enemy."

  Alustriel shrugged, feeling almost whole again. "Mystra bids us educate the magically weak."

  The Red Wizard's eyes snapped with anger, and he spat forth a fireball incantation, hurling it at the rav shy;aged ceiling above her. Better to crush and bury this wounded Chosen rather than cast something her per shy;sonal defenses might negate or even turn back on him.

  With a singing sound and a whirling of sparks, one of Alustriel's wards failed across the room, and a door burst open. As both High Lady and Red Wizard turned to look, Roeblen's fireball burst overhead, shaking the room and spitting fire in all directions. Through its roar there came a tortured groan from overhead, slow and loud, but unending. Slowly, as it went on, it grew both louder and swifter.

  As a reeling Taern Hornblade and a tall and hand shy;some elf behind him clutched at the doorframe and stared in horror, the floor of the room above the black shy;ened Ten Tapestries Chamber broke asunder and col shy;lapsed, spilling like a titanic waterfall through the shattered ceiling.