by Ed Greenwood
Her hostess smiled and nodded. "Please do so. Amantha is a dear friend but also a Harper spy-and is loyal to them first. She always tries this little trick, knows I cause her spells to fail . . and we both ignore the matter."
"She's done this before? You know her purposes and yet invite her?"
"I like to clasp my foes close and look into their eyes," the Lady Ambrur replied serenely, rounding the table again to sip from her tallglass. Lifting it in a lazy salute to Noumea, she smiled a little smile and added, "They see and hear only what I want them to, I think."
The two tall, slender ladies-Joysil the larger and older, but both bearing worldly wisdom in their eyes-regarded each other thoughtfully. There was clear liking and trust between them, though this was their first meeting, and after a silence Noumea asked curiously, "You let me cast that shatterspell when I might have worked any magic on you. We've barely met, yet you trust me. I am honored but I must confess also curious: why does Joysil Ambrur trust this unknown, when true trust is almost unknown among these-forgive me-overpainted eels and vixens of Marsember?"
Joysil burst into merry laughter, all trace of weariness gone. "They'd never forgive you for describing them so, yet your words are apt indeed: They are rapacious, sly eels and snapping little vixens."
Noumea waited and when her hostess said no more asked very softly, "I mean no offense, but please let me know the reasons for your trust. You've barely met me."
"Indeed," Joysil replied just as gently, "but I know all about you."
"Oh?"
"Born Noumea Fairbright, quite a keen-witted, spirited beauty. Attended a finishing school for daughters of the very rich in Sembia run by the Lady Calabrista. Tarried with none other than Elminster in Shadowdale after a school trip to visit his tower-and did not return to Calabrista but instead astonished a series of tutors with mastery of magic. Married Lord Elmarr Cardellith of Saerloon, a rich, ruthless Sembian merchant lord, and bore him four daughters. Survived two attempts paid for by him to have you poisoned because he wanted no girls but only sons. Escaped to Marsember and were paid to 'stay away' whilst he changed faiths and remarried in his new church, annulling your union. Now twenty-six winters old, and cynical, jaded, bitter-and bored, therefore hungry for adventure. The sort of woman the Obarskyrs are apt to regard as dangerous: one who could so easily drift into aiding rebels or illicit intrigues-then try wildly to make up for it. Lady Noumea Cardellith, do I see you truly?"
Noumea had gone quite pale. She swallowed slowly and deliberately, lifted her head, looked the Lady Ambrur straight in the eye, and said firmly, "Yes. Every word right, whether I like it or not. To fill in the gaps in my tale about which some have speculated: no man but Elmarr has ever touched me. Not Elminster, nor Lhaeo, nor have I entertained any affairs of the heart or lusts with anyone here or in Sembia. The extent of your knowledge can only be described as impressive, and I shall not ask how you came by it. Yet I am curious: Why do you bother to learn so much-about me, the Harper who just left us, and . . . everyone? I'll wager you know as much about all the rest of your just-departed guests as you do about me."
Joysil smiled again. "Knowing secrets . . . being part of the shady doings and intrigues that seem to be at the heart of what it is to be human … is meat and drink to me, the very wine of life. Believe me, I can live no other way. And yes, you would have won that wager."
A bell chimed, somewhere behind her chair, and she set down her glass and asked, "Does our agreement stand? You sent back the coins I offered but spoke of acceptance."
"It stands, but I need no payment. I consider you my friend."
"Even so. Our guest-just arrived, that bell tells us-is a Red Wizard of Thay. Being in attendance to protect me may well involve some personal danger and being marked as a foe henceforth by all Thayans, even if no outward unpleasantness ensues this morning."
Noumea nodded. "Even so," she echoed. "I thought you spoke earlier of three guests."
"I did, but two of them are merely local villains, possessed of more dishonesty and empty ambition than anything else. Yet I'm pleased to have you remain with me, 'just in case.' Shall I introduce you as a student of architecture, visiting Haelithtorntowers to see its features?"
Noumea Cardellith grinned suddenly. "Certainly. Spires and turrets I can talk glibly and emptily about for half a day. Elmarr thought almost nothing else was a fit subject to share with a woman-even his woman."
"See me standing unsurprised," Lady Ambrur replied in dry tones and pulled a tassel hanging by the arm of her chair.
The double doors opened at once, and her servants bowed three men into the room: two merchants trailed by a lone figure.
One Marsemban was tall, thin, and hard-faced, the other stout, a little battered-looking, and clutching a grand hat as if shredding it would somehow carry him unscathed through the meeting now unfolding. The two parted to let the third man through: a young, darkly handsome man in black and silver shimmerweave, looking every inch a capable, quietly swaggering noble of Suzail or fullblood merchant prince of one of the foremost families of Sembia.
"Be welcome, sirs," the Lady Ambrur said warmly. "We stand in privacy, here, armed with the information you've been seeking."
"Ah," the wizard said, eyes darting from Noumea to Joysil and back again. "That is good. We are well met, Lady Ambrur and Lady-?"
"Cardellith, sir," the unfamiliar woman replied for herself. "Noumea Cardellith, now of Marsember."
"A student of architecture," the Lady Ambrur put in gently. "Here to see every last crenellation and carving of Haelithtorntowers."
The Thayan smiled. "Architecture?"
The Lady of Haelithtorntowers smiled an almost identical smile. "And other things."
"Ah," the wizard said, and sat down in a seat without waiting for an invitation, leaving the two merchants standing uncertainly behind him.
"The merchants Aumun Tholant Bezrar and Malakar Surth," Lady Ambrur introduced them, waving them toward seats as she did so. "This is Harnrim 'Darkspells' Starangh, one of the most diplomatic Red Wizards of Thay it has ever been my pleasure to entertain."
"And have you entertained many of us, Lady?" Starangh asked softly.
The Lady Ambrur smiled again. "Yes, indeed, Darkspells. Szass and I, in particular, are old friends. Very old friends."
The Thayan sat as if frozen for an instant then said even more softly, "You must tell me about that some time. Some other time."
"Of course. When the time is right, as you say," was the silken reply.
Noumea repressed a shiver. How soft and yet sharp with menace the words of both her hostess and the Thayan. She flicked a glance at the two Marsemban merchants and saw in their faces the same tightly masked fear as she knew her own held: not knowing all that was going on here but knowing enough to be certain everything hidden was bad. And dangerous.
Darkspells spread his hands. "Have you learned what I desire to know and offered twelve thousand in gold for?"
"Twelve thousand six hundred," the Lady Ambrur told her tall-glass demurely.
"Twelve thousand six hundred, as you say," the Red Wizard agreed.
"Yes. Precisely what Vangerdahast, the retired Mage Royal of Cormyr, is 'up to' in his retirement, precisely where he is, and precisely what his magical defenses are."
Starangh smiled softly, his eyes glittering bright and hard, and purred, "If you can give me half an answer to those things, Vangerdahast will stand far closer to his doom-the doom he has so richly earned and that I shall take such delight in visiting upon him. Soon."
* * * * *
This damp, fish-stinking city wasn't Waterdeep, but at least it had walls and rooftops, and she could feel just a bit more like home.
Narnra grinned without feeling the slightest bit amused. So here she was running for her life, pursued by some sort of law-agent bent on slaying or capturing her.
Oh, yes. Just like home.
* * * * *
The Queen of Aglarond wrinkled her nose. "Ah, Marse
mber! Always damp cold stone, colder people, and the everpresent reek of dead fish and human waste. For entertainment, storms rage ashore and intrigues rage behind closed doors." She smiled. "Well, it serves one good purpose: to firmly remind me what I must never let my capital Velprintalar come within the full length of a large kingdom of resembling!"
Elminster stroked her bare shoulder then kissed the smooth flesh his fingers had been tracing. "Sorry," he told her. " Tis not my favorite place in all Faerun either, but it happens to be where Caladnei bides at this moment."
The Simbul sighed. "Mystra's will be done," she murmured then turned suddenly, caught hold of his beard, and brought his lips to where she could kiss them fiercely.
As she always seemed to, she moved hungrily against him, melting into him . . .
"Take care of yourself," she whispered when they were both breathless and lack of air finally forced her to draw back. "I waited so long for you-don't leave me lonely now."
Elminster blinked at her. "Lass? Ye waited for me . . . ?"
"To notice and then to love me," she replied, eyes very dark. "For myself and not as one of Mystra's daughters."
She shaped a spell that called darkness, outlined by a sprinkling of tiny stars, out of the air in front of her. "I loved your mind for centuries before you knew who I was, Old Mage. Now I love your character, too." She made a face, and added, "Your body, however: that you could have taken better care of, to be sure. Old wreck."
Elminster lifted his eyebrows, held up his hands with an airy flourish, murmured a swift incantation-and melted into the shape of a tall, broad-shouldered young man of rugged good looks and raven-black hair. He gave her a sparkling grin.
She snorted, struck a breathlessly excited hands-to-mouth pose like a young lass about to swoon-and slid back out of it to wink at him. Stepping back into her darkness, the Queen of Aglarond murmured, "My old wreck," and was gone, taking her rift with her, stars and all.
The transformed Elminster smiled fondly at where she'd been for a moment, shaking his head, then made a face of his own. "In those centuries of loving my mind, did she watch where my wandering body went and with whom, I wonder?"
He chuckled, shrugged, and strode down the cold, dark, and cobwebbed passage.
The damp made the spiderwebs thick, jeweled-with-droplets curtains. Elminster pushed through them unconcernedly, acquiring a marbled pattern of silken filth on his robes, and when he reached the remembered crossway, he turned left.
Cold blue fire flared in the emptiness in front of his nose immediately, but he strolled right through that ward-spell-and the next one, too.
By then a sleepy-eyed War Wizard, barefoot in her robes, was confronting him furiously. A rod that winked and glowed from half a dozen attached side-wands was cradled in her arms and aimed right at his face.
"Halt or be destroyed!" she snapped, as her fingers triggered a magic that sent bells chiming in a dozen chambers, near and far. Whatever befell now, this obviously not-so-secret passage would be swarming with War Wizards in a few minutes. Until then, 'twas her duty to prevent this stranger from-
He stepped forward, and she snarled and triggered three of the wands at once.
Their flash and roar almost blinded War Wizard Belantra, and sent her staggering back as the passage flagstones rippled under her feet in a great Shockwave. In the distance, behind the broad-shouldered intruder, stones fell from the passage ceiling, amid much dust, and tumbled away.
He kept coming, as if the ravening magic hadn't touched him at all.
"Back, demon!" Belantra snapped, sudden fear rising inside her. No one should be able to withstand such a blast! Even if the handsome man before her was mere illusion, the magic that presented it should have been shredded, and-
One long-fingered hand grasped the tip of one of her wands, even as she furiously triggered it again. Calmly ignoring Belantra, the intruder lifted the wand so its emerald beam of flesh-melting fury was trained not at his chest, but directly into his eyes.
Bright blue those eyes shone as they met hers for a moment, winked, and dropped to examine the wand again.
"Ah, yes. I helped Vangey enspell this. Now, after all these years, he wastes it in some sort of toy 'mightywand' gonne, such as the Lantanna fashion?" The handsome intruder shook his head. "I thought I'd taught him better than that."
He looked up again, gently pushing the wand aside with one fingertip, and asked, "What might thy name be, lass?"
"I'm a War Wizard of Cormyr," Belantra snapped, "and I'll ask the questions here, man!"
"By all means," the broad-shouldered stranger agreed easily, taking her elbow in one hand and steering her aside so he could pass. When she whirled furiously to shove him against the wall, he turned nimbly with her as if they were dancing together, ending up behind her with her wrist in a grip she could not break. Towing her, he strode in the direction she'd come from.
"I'm here to see Caladnei," he explained, "but ye're welcome to ask all ye want while we go fetch her, eh?"
"How do you kno-the Mage Royal can see no one! She's sleeping, after a very long night of defending the realm."
The handsome stranger smiled. "Long indeed. I know. I helped make it so. To squeeze our doings into a shorter night might well have left her as a corpse."
"Who are y-let go of me! Let go, stop right here, and tell me your name!" Belantra shouted, thrusting the gonne of wands and rod into the intruder's face and preparing to spend her life in the defense of the Mage Royal.
Black eyebrows lifted. "Demanding, aren't ye? War Wizards weren't quite so shrill back in the early days, I must say. I did warn Amedahast she was shaping something that was sure to get away from her-but then, who am I to deny other mages their grand schemes and toys, when such strivings have brought us all such wonder? No, lass, don't try to set them all off at once-yell blast all this cellar right up through the grand edifice above it, shattering Caladnei to bonelessness as surely as ye do the same to thyself and everyone else within reach-including all thy fellow loyal mages ye summoned!"
The intruder pointed along the passage where robed men and women were approaching at a run, wands in hand and various glows of awakening magic flaring.
Chuckling and shaking his head, he plucked Belantra and her gonne around in front of him to serve as a shield, more or less carried her the few steps down the passage to the entrance she'd emerged from, and laid a hand on the closed iron door he found there.
Deadly magic flared and crackled around his fingers. He shook his head, broke it without seeming to do anything, and reached through the still-solid metal to turn the latch-handle on the inside.
Belantra's mouth dropped open in astonishment at that. Her jaw dropped still farther as the stranger's shape shifted into that of a slender old man with a white beard, bushy eyebrows, and a hawklike nose.
His grip remained every bit as iron-strong as he towed her through the doorway into the softly glow-lit bedchamber beyond-where someone 'was sitting up in a magnificent canopied bed facing them, eyes sharp above an unwaveringly aimed wand.
"Wh-Elminster!"
"The same. Nice curves, lass, but get something on over them, or I'll shortly be guilty of laying low the Royal Magician of Cormyr with a walloping head cold. Ye're coming with me."
The Mage Royal gaped at him just as her door-guardian had done-before Belantra turned to doing what she was doing just now, which was fainting dead away and slumping in the Old Mage's grasp-then stiffened, eyes blazing ruby-red, and snapped, "Certainly not! Who are you to be giving me orders? Or demanding anything of any War Wizard of Cormyr?"
"The orders aren't mine, lass. They come from Mystra. However, if ye'd rather not know what mischief Vangerdahast is up to in the midst of thy kingdom, ye can of course refuse both the Divine One and myself and join the legions of proud fools waiting to fill up graves all over Faerun. I leave ye free choice."
Caladnei swallowed, her magnificent throat moving while the rest of her sat on the bed like a dark brown, smoot
h-skinned statue. Elminster kept his eyes fixed on hers. She looked away first, muttering, "I was trying to get some sleep."
"A luxury seldom allowed Royal Magicians, yell learn," Elminster said, stepping forward to lay Belantra's limp form gently across the end of the bed. He went to a wardrobe, flung the doors wide, and rummaged, soon tossing a pair of boots back over his shoulder.
Caladnei caught them at about the time a dozen War Wizards burst into the room-and came to a confused halt as the Mage Royal of Cormyr flung up her hand in a 'stop' gesture. "Out, all of you," she said firmly. "My apologies for the upset of being summoned at such an hour for nothing. Go back to your posts."
"Mage Royal, forgive me," one of the older men said gravely, "but-"
"My mind is my own, thanks, Velvorn. I'm neither enchanted nor coerced by my guest, here. He has merely reminded me of my duty to Cormyr. Please go."
Leather breeches landed in Caladnei's lap, and a tunic struck her face a moment later. Velvorn lingered for a breath or two longer, perhaps to enjoy either the scenery or the sight of a Royal Magician catching clothes with her face, then wheeled around and started to shoo away all the War Wizards who'd crowded into the doorway to stare.
When he was done, he turned on the threshold with a clear question in his eyes-but closed the door at an imperious gesture from the Mage Royal.
Caladnei sighed. "Well, my loyal mages will certainly be able to recognize me now from any angle, with or without clothes."
Elminster turned from the wardrobe with a vest in his hands and grunted, "My apologies, lass. Sometimes haste is needful, and I didn't want to harm or humiliate dozens of War Wizards trying to get to you, a few hours hence." He shook out the vest, laid it on the bed, and turned his back. "I see ye're wise enough to keep thy hair gathered, so as to get up and about the swifter."
"I was too tired to remember to take it off," Caladnei admitted, reaching up to touch the ribbon at the back of her neck. She rose from the bed, long-limbed and slender. "No underclout?"
