by Ed Greenwood
Abruptly Lady Ambrur sat down again and fell silent.
That silence stretched, almost echoing in the vast and largely empty hall, until at last the wizard Darkspells stirred and asked softly, "Have you any idea how this web of spells will defend the kingdom, Lady? Such a massive warding-if it is a warding- would drink deeply of the life of all things within it and could not help but be noticed. More than that: It could not help but change life in Cormyr, both through how magic works, and by what other properties it possesses. Such a thing would become a treasure to steal-or a barrier to test strength against-for many mages and could not last long. I doubt that even Vangerdahast could successfully create such a thing. So … a warding seems unlikely. Have your . . . sources . . . any hint as to what this great magic entails?"
The Lady of Haelithtorntowers nodded, unsmiling. "They believe it will involve binding heroes to defend the realm in place of the destroyed Lords Who Sleep."
"Heroes?" Starangh echoed, with a frown. "What great magic is needful in binding a few men, even against their will? Men can be compelled. Finding them need not take long-nor the crafting of magic to do the binding. The spells must be known to him as they are to me."
Joysil shook her head. "My information suggests that these are all new spells Vangerdahast is crafting-and having great difficulties doing so."
Starangh smiled. "So … he intends to bind more than mere heroes, then. And he's doing this where?"
"There's a forest village on the Starwater Road," Lady Joysil replied, "called Mouth o' Gargoyles. Magic goes wild when cast there. This curse has been known for centuries and is demon-strably real. Certain senior War Wizards, however, have been overheard telling particular Harpers that a hidehold cavern was long ago established in the forest near the village by a Royal Magician of the realm and used by succeeding Royal Magicians. The magics they work are concealed from those who might otherwise come looking for explanations; any radiances or blasts or strange magical effects get blamed on the curse."
Harnrim Starangh's eyes narrowed. "So dozens of War Wizards know about this cavern and what goes on there-and have truly managed to keep it secret, for all these years?"
"No. Only a very few know of it, because the various Royal Magicians normally go there alone."
"So who lurks in the woods, keeping outlaws and nosy Harpers and blundering foresters away?"
"That," the Lady Ambrur replied, leaning forward to fix Dark-spells with a very direct gaze, "is the most interesting thing about all of this. Folk who blunder too close without following exactly the right route-and no, I'm sorry, but I've not been able to learn the specifics of that trail-encounter creatures of Mystra: watchghosts and wizardly wraiths and the like, who turn them back with magic. Or they simply take one wrong step and are teleported halfway across Faerun-seemingly to a different place every time. Most War Wizards who patrol the area are under orders only to observe who approaches and report such intruders to Laspeera or her most trusted senior mages. Most of them know only that something precious is located near Mouth o' Gargoyles and that the very existence of this unknown valuable thing is a state secret."
"So presumably a select few senior War Wizards do know the correct route to this sanctum," Starangh said softly, bobbing his chin onto his steepled fingertips. He suddenly broke into a wide smile, blinked, and added, "You shall be well paid, Lady Ambrur."
He opened a belt pouch, placed twenty thumb-sized rubies on the table in front of him, and added, "Consider this but a first, trifling payment-a gift, if you will. The worth of these is not be included in our agreed-upon price, which shall be delivered to you on the morrow. For I deem that you-if you forget all you've said tonight and speak nothing of it to anyone else ever again or of the names and faces of any of us three-have more than earned payment in full."
He favored Noumea Cardellith with a long, silent, thoughtful look but said nothing to her.
Starangh rose in a single smooth motion, nodded politely to the Lady Ambrur, and asked, "Have you learned anything more of interest, pertaining to this matter?"
"Not as yet," she replied gravely.
"No matter. You have rendered me great service, Lady. I shall not intrude further upon your time."
He bowed, spun around, and made for the door. Wordlessly, the two merchants rose in his wake, sketched clumsy bows of their own, and hastened to follow.
When the doors had closed behind them, Lady Ambrur looked at her remaining guest with a smile. "Well? What think you?"
Noumea regarded her with large, dark eyes, shook her head ever so slightly, and said softly, "I do not trust that man."
"Nor should you," her hostess responded. "Are there spells upon the rubies?"
Noumea rose, went to stand over the stones, muttered something, and passed her hand over them without touching anything. "Yes," she said grimly, with no trace of surprise in her voice.
Lady Ambrur nodded. "Touch them not nor send any other magic at them. In fact, cast no more magic in this room. Were I you, I'd use spells to disguise myself this very night and lie low in some distant land for a month or so. Red Wizards tend to have very long arms and sharply honed senses of cruelty."
"But yourself?" Noumea asked, waving her other hand at the rubies. "What if he sends something deadly with his payment?"
"I can protect myself," the Lady of Haelithtorntowers said softly, acquiring a smile that was not at all dissimilar from that worn by the Red Wizard.
"Like Vangerdahast, I too have some important tasks I wish to accomplish before I die."
Eleven
A WIZARD IN EVERY SANCTUM
And so at last I was forced to put the world behind me and go and hide. I made myself a hole to hide in, pulled the hole in behind me, and there I was: nowhere.
The character Greatghalont the Archwizard, in Scene the First of the play Endings In Innarlith by Skamart "the Clever" Thallea, first performed in the Year of Thunder
There was a moment of blue, endlessly falling mists, then solid stone under their boots, bright morning sunlight, and a smell of burnt sausage and scorched toast.
Caladnei blinked. "I've been here before. Just once, when Van-gey was testing me-but then he cloaked it from me somehow. I've never been able to reach it again."
Myrmeen Lhal was shooting wary glances in all directions, her sword half-drawn. She gave Elminster an enthusiastically venomous look, so he smiled and blew her a kiss-which turned her glare stony.
They were standing in a flagstone-floored cellar, the cross-vaultings of its low, arched ceiling perhaps a handspan overhead. Ahead, beyond two littered tables and a hoopback chair be-draped with some rather dirty towels, was what looked like a kitchen: a scarred marble counter heaped high with dirty dishes and pans, flanking two sinks. Above the counter was a window, deep-set in a ferny bank and looking out through a few trailing vines over a pleasant deep-forest glade.
Standing at the counter with a bowl of almond butter in one hand, a fat loaf of bread under one arm, and his other hand wielding a knife that was scooping and slapping between bowl and the sliced-off, exposed end of the loaf, was an all-too-familiar man.
He was stooped and fat and wore dirty black robes and sandals. His wild gray-white beard flowed down over his chest and reached in every other direction, too. The mouth hidden somewhere in the midst of it was hard at work creating the reason he hadn't heard the ringing sound of Myrmeen half-drawing her blade, or Caladnei's softly wondering words.
Vangerdahast the wizard was singing a bawdy song about a lass from Arabel-Myrmeen's lips tightened-who'd fallen under his spell-Caladnei frowned-and was now begging for more . . . despite certain wizards growing sore . . .
Vangey's singing voice was atrocious-a flat, rough wreck of a tone cloaked in the exaggeratedly fruity stylings he'd no doubt heard the haughtiest bards offer at Court (though they'd probably kept to one key, something the former Mage Royal was in no danger of doing), and he kept breaking off his song to choke, cough, and spit enthusiastically into the
sink.
His knife was layering a finger-thick and still growing deposit of almond butter onto the end of the bread-loaf. Its swirl of oily brown was already bedecked with sprinklings of parsley, chopped garlic, and dill . . . and Elminster grinned slyly as he looked sidelong at Caladnei's horrified face and watched it tighten in revolted anticipation of what her former mentor would most probably do next-which was, yes, to start to gnaw on the spread end of the loaf without bothering to slice it off or find a plate-though where a clean one might be lurking, in all the clutter, was itself a puzzling challenge-or, for that matter, make any sort of nodded offering to the gods.
What Vangerdahast did instead was launch into a second and filthier verse, through a mouthful of almond butter and bread while rocking on his heels and rhythmically conducting his imaginary wanton lass as he sang. In this manner, he turned away from the window just enough to catch sight of three visitors he'd certainly never expected to see standing in his empty pantry instead of the strongchests of provisions whose arrival he was expecting.
He blinked, rocked back to face the window while singing the next line, then turned again to frown at the pantry-perhaps in hopes the three were some sort of momentary mind-dream or the result of recently emptying the bottle he now plucked up from the sink to glare at.
The three figures did not go away-even after he spat the gooey remnants of almond-buttered bread at them in sudden fear and mortification, following these offerings with a roared, "How by all the Seven feldurking Sisters did you get here?"
"Magic," Elminster replied brightly with the broadest of impish grins.
Vangerdahast's eyes blazed. He flung bread in one direction and knife in the other, letting the empty wine bottle crash back down into the sink. In the next motion he raised trembling arms and took a step toward the Old Mage as if he were going to try to strangle Elminster. At last he let his arms fall, looked from the tip of Myrmeen Lhal's now-drawn sword, which came equipped with the face of the High Lady of Arabel glowering at him over it, to the frozen and disapproving face of Caladnei, the lass he'd picked to succeed him as Mage Royal . . . and shrank visibly, letting out his breath in a sigh.
Vangerdahast shook his head as if to clear it, crossed his arms across his chest to glare at all three of them as if they were common thieves he'd caught publicly in a personally embarrassing act, and growled, "This should not be possible. You arrived right atop my most powerful teleport trap and somehow bulled through it. You three should right now be standing bewildered in three separate and very distant spots on Toril. Far enough away to win me some time to myself, I had every reason to hope."
Elminster smiled again. "Remember, old friend, 'tis by Mystra's will such things work . . . and I myself continue to live and, ah, work by the same pleasure and divine power."
Vangerdahast shook his head in clear displeasure, and turned away. "You shouldn't have come here. You shouldn't be here now. I've retired from all the fawning and smiling and doing what's expected. My time is now my own."
"Very well spent, I see," Myrmeen said tartly.
The former Royal Magician rounded on her. "You, miss, would do better to hold and keep Arabel for the Crown, for a change! If you weren't so determined to out-swagger and out-swordswash every man in the realm, like a pale echo of proud little Alusair, perhaps you'd've settled down to being a very useful governor instead of governing one man at a time in your bedchamber! I-"
"My Lord Vangerdahast!" Caladnei snapped. Wo one should speak so to any officer of the realm-nor to any lady! You-you disgust me! Your words lead me to wonder what were you really thinking about me when you praised me and named me your successor! 'Oh, here's some brown-skinned trollop who'll bed more noblemen than I could bring myself to do'?"
"You be still, little miss!" Vangerdahast roared, eyes catching fire. "I've had about enough-"
"So have I," Elminster announced pleasantly. "Ye used to be far more deft and sly in picking fights and making folk lose their tempers and forget their intentions, Vangey. Ye're losing it, ye are. Wherefore I'm going to be just as unpleasant to ye as ye've been to thy fellow folk of Cormyr for-oh, some six decades now, hey?"
He took a step forward, not appearing to cast any spell or awaken any ring, rod, wand, or gewgaw-but Vangerdahast floated up off the floor and hung rigid, limbs unmoving. "Now, speak. Unfold what ye're really up to here. Mystra wanted me to be a trifle more subtle about this, I'm sure, but I find myself not in the mood to be nearly so gentle with ye. Ye tried to enrage these two ladies so as to put their minds aside from prying some answers out of ye. Why?"
"I-I don't want to talk about what I'm at work on to … either of these two ladies," Vangerdahast replied gruffly, "whom I'm both sorry to have offended. I-no, I cannot. Caladnei and Myrmeen, forgive me, but your presence here ruins and reveals everything. I can't be honest with you. I daren't."
"Nay Vangerdahast," Elminster said calmly, "Ye dare not fail to tell all and truly to these two: the Mage Royal of the realm, remember, and an officer of the Crown to bear witness."
"You are no longer my teacher, El," Vangerdahast said coldly. "I need no more of your lessons on obedience or moral authority. I would judge, as many in Faerun do, that your own actions disqualify you from criticizing anyone else in this world on such matters."
"Vangey," Elminster replied gently. "I'm not asking ye. I'm telling ye."
He took another step forward and added, "We both fell into the 'might makes right, and I know this is right anyway, so just hold still whilst I do it to ye' trap long, long ago . . . and I daresay we've both found it easiest to remain there. I'm still there now. Ye will answer me."
"I will not," Vangerdahast snarled. "I-I . . ."
"Am disgusted with how cruel and tyrannical I can be?" Elminster asked, his voice almost a whisper. "So am I, old friend. So am I. Yet I long ago cast my lot with Mystra, and do what she needs me to do. Yet I've not yet reached the point of being so disgusted that I refuse to do it and defy her."
The Old Mage was aware of the two women backing instinctively away from him, awe warring with apprehension on their faces. "And like ye," he went on, his eyes never leaving those of his onetime pupil, "I feel the talons of time clawing at me at last. Like ye, I know not how much time I have left-but I know enough to feel 'tis not much any longer. So like ye, this drives me to do all I want to do, as swiftly as I can-and be damned to all these younger fools who stand in my way. I know just how ye feel, Vangey. Believe me."
He lifted one open hand, as if offering something invisible to the empty air. "So now, I'm going to ruthlessly compel ye-quite rudely, but 'tis necessary and this way 'twill at least be swift."
Vangerdahast glared at him, shuddering and going red-faced as he fought the invisible bonds of Elminster's magic. At last he barked out brief, wordless frustration and gave up, to slump and hang limply in midair. "Ask your questions," he said bitterly.
"I'm sorry, Vangerdahast," the Old Mage told him. "First then, precisely what creatures are you planning to bind, with these secret spells you're crafting?"
"What secret spel-"
"Truth, Vangey. The truth, if ye can still remember what that is after so many years at Court," Elminster ordered, his voice calm but implacable.
Vangerdahast glared at him then snapped, "Dragons. Neutral or benevolent dragonkind."
Both Caladnei and Myrmeen drew in breath so sharply that they almost gasped-but said nothing, their eyes burning at Vangerdahast. So it was true!
Elminster spared them not a glance. "Willingly or unwillingly bound?"
The former Royal Magician seemed to shrink, dwindling in the air. "Willingly, if possible," he murmured.
"To awaken at what triggers?"
"When called."
Elminster acquired a sour look. "Vangey," he murmured, "are we going to have to do this by dragging every last word out of ye like so many hooked sea-beasts being hauled ashore? No one in this room thinks ye're anything less than Cormyr's savior and staunch defender, the b
ackbone of the realm. We admire thy intended legacy-so why not discuss it freely? None of us three wants to see Cormyr overrun by Red Wizards and Zhentarim-among many others-hunting for ye or for thy spells, so we're hardly likely to pass on what we hear to anyone else. I'll even mindshield these two ladies, if they desire it, so anyone who tries to read their thoughts or memories will get blasted by magic that should leave that anyone drooling-witless for a day or so. So why not just speak freely? Hey?"
Vangerdahast closed his eyes, sighed, and said, "Very well. I intend that the guardian wyrms will be awakened by any being who utters the right words of summoning. For the words to work, the speaker will have to find and stand in the active area of the right portal-there should be at least two 'right portals' per dragon- while holding an item of the correct substance."
"And that substance is?"
"I know not, yet. Most probably a particular sort of gemstone. I haven't yet decided on that part of it. I'm leaning toward establishing two allowable substances in all cases, either one of which will 'work.' Of course, 'tis best if such substances will last down the years."
"Of course. Under what orders will these bound guardians operate when awakened?"
The former Royal Magician cast a quick glance at Caladnei-and just as quickly averted his eyes from her furious stare. "To defend and preserve the realm," he replied, almost sighing the words, "its government, and those of its folk who stand loyal. To strike at foes of the realm the guardian identifies or that are pointed out to it by its summoner and other beings it comes to trust."
"It comes to trust?"
"In the end, all things come down to trust," Vangey muttered quietly, looking at the floor. "They always do."
One of the two women drew in her breath sharply again, swallowing a tremulous sob that sounded the width of a sharp sword blade away from bursting forth as furious words.
