by Ed Greenwood
That earned her wry smiles from all three Cormyreans, and Caladnei’s voice was almost gentle as she asked, “Have you many friends in Waterdeep, with whom you talk? Share gossip with?”
Narnra hunched her head down and said nothing.
The Mage Royal frowned. “Enough of this,” she murmured. “ ’Time—and past time—for enforced truth.” She muttered an incantation and traced a pattern with her fingertips.
There was a sudden flash of blue-white fire, and she drew her head back as if burned. “She’s protected,” Caladnei murmured, and cast a glance at Laspeera.
Who shrugged and asked softly, “Elminster?” as she raised her own hands and worked the same spell.
Seven blue-white stars flashed and spun very briefly around the young Waterdhavian, who seemed in a trance.
“Mystra,” the Mage Royal whispered and looked at Laspeera again, almost helplessly this time.
The older War Wizard gave her another shrug. “So try the hard way, Cala. We can only try spells as they seem necessary … and see.”
Caladnei nodded unhappily, drew in a deep breath, glanced at Rhauligan—who smiled grimly and gave her a nod of approval, and asked, “Narnra? How do you hear the news merchants bring, when they come to Waterdeep in their caravans? Do local wits cry news aloud in taverns in return for coins?”
Silence.
“Narnra?”
The thief’s reply was to burst into a sudden sprint toward Caladnei, dodging twice. The Mage Royal flung up a hand to signal Rhauligan—who was already moving—to keep clear and worked a swift, muttered spell.
One blue-white star, whirling away … and winking out.
Narnra plucked for a dagger to hurl and ruin the casting but found her sheath empty and instead tried to duck around Caladnei—who politely stepped aside.
“The door,” the sorceress told the hard-running thief firmly, “is not an option.”
Narnra put her head down, growled, and ran. Invisible fingers were already plucking at her, and she knew that with two wizards of Cormyr in the room, her attempt at escape was doomed, yet … yet what else could she do?
She was running in midair, now, treading hard on nothing at all, as she floated backward toward where she’d been. She knew how comical she must look yet kept on running. Spells were mind-tiring—everyone knew that—and this Caladnei would have to set her back down sooner or later. If she was already moving fast and got a little lucky, she could—just mayhap—manage t—
“Narnra, answer me: How do you hear news and gossip in Waterdeep?”
Narnra spat out a wordless snarl of rising frustration and kept right on running.
“Narnra?”
“Drown you, mage! Blast and burn and rot you! I don’t care about your questions or your nasty little plots or the oh-so-fair kingdom of Cormyr! Just let me go!”
“To steal in our streets,” Caladnei said softly. “I think not.”
“Perhaps worse than that,” Rhauligan put in, holding up a handful of Narnra’s daggers. At the sight of them the Waterdhavian shrieked in rage and darted a hand down the front of her breeches, to pluck forth a tiny knife from a sheath over her most private of places, and hurl it furiously at him.
Rhauligan sprang sideways, for her throw had been well-aimed—and Caladnei’s mouth drew into a hard line.
The next thing Narnra knew, she was greeting the far wall of the chamber, hard enough to slam the breath out of her. She struggled, sobbing for air, and found herself pinned firmly against the dark paneling by nothing she could see at all.
Another blue-white star, winking and dying …
“How do you hear news and gossip in Waterdeep?” the Mage Royal asked again. Her magic relaxed just enough to let Narnra breathe, and the thief gulped in great shuddering lungfuls of air.
“Narnra?”
“Wizard, can’t you tell I don’t care about any of this? Go mount a dragon somewhere, and leave me be!”
“Narnra—”
“Caladnei,” the Waterdhavian mimicked, in exactly the same tone the Mage Royal had used, “go stuff yourself. If you please.”
The Mage Royal’s magic thrust Narna back against the wall again, pressing so hard on her that she couldn’t lift her ribs to draw breath. She fought silently, twisting and writhing on the paneling, until all too soon the world started to go dim, and drift.…
The force eased, letting her gasp for air again. Narnra stared over the heads of her tormentors and panted, drawing in precious air.
In chill shadow, a blue-white star goes out.…
“Sweet wind,” she murmured, quoting a Waterdhavian harbor song.
“What’s that?” Caladnei asked sharply.
“Sweet wind, come again,” Narnra recited the line between gasps, eyes meeting those of the Mage Royal. “Blow me away, far beyond pain.”
The Mage Royal took a step closer, and Narnra noticed with surprise that she’d been crying. Recently. “Narna, please tell me this,” she said softly. “How do you get to know rumors and what happens, all over Waterdeep and in Faerûn all around?”
“Caladnei,” Narnra replied, just as softly, “I keep my mouth shut and my ears open. Even when tyrant mages slam me about with their spells.”
In the sudden thunder of unseen force that plucked her from the wall then slammed her back against it again hard enough to rattle her bones and her back teeth, Narnra thought she heard Rhauligan make the briefest of chuckles.
Forlorn and drifting, another star flickers … and goes out.…
“Even then?” Caladnei asked softly. “How stubborn, thief, are you?”
Her magic snatched Narnra from the wall and slammed her back against it again, hard enough to make a wood panel groan in protest. Narnra’s limbs bounced helplessly against the wood. She whined like a dog for breath, fighting against the building pressure.
Silently, a fifth blue-white star flares—and is gone.…
Harder and harder the magic pressed her—only to relax when she was once more on the shuddering edge of sinking into insensibility and let her cough and choke and groan for breath.
“How, when in Waterdeep, do you get to hear gossip and news from afar?” Caladnei asked calmly.
Narnra shook her head. The Mage Royal repeated the question, and the Silken Shadow snapped, “Away, mage! Go and batter-bruise someone else! Kick a guard, slap a child, whatever pleases you!”
The magic slammed her against the chamber wall and pinned her once more, twice more, a third time.
Another star fading … leaving but one a-twinkle.
Caladnei repeated her last question in the same precise words every time she let Narnra breathe.
The last star wavers, trembles in the darkness … and winks out.…
At Caladnei’s fourth patient repetition, Narnra replied sullenly, “I listen at windows and to folk muttering in alleys. I lie on rooftops hearing merchants plot and scheme—how else can I learn where they’ll be, and their precious money?”
“Taverns, too?”
“When I’m thirsty and make it to South Ward or the docks, never my home streets.”
“Nobles’ windows?”
“Never. Too dangerous. Why walk there when I can hear more idling beside a street-seller unloading food after the highsun rush? Nobles are all high wind and preening, anyway, every third word a lie to impress or manipulate.”
“This is much easier, Narnra. Thank you. I’ll see that you get plenty to eat and drink when we’re done. Now tell me: In all this daily chatter, do you ever hear talk of Cormyr?”
“No. I think I heard the name of your land a few times when merchants were talking hopeful prices. Sembia—mainly they talk about Sembians buying all the lace and jewels and scent-oils.…”
“More coins in Sembia,” the Mage Royal agreed, almost soothingly.
There was other magic at work, now, across the room. Laspeera was casting something long and exacting. Narnra sighed and looked away from the woman, discovered she didn’t want to loo
k at Rhauligan’s faintly smiling face just now, and brought her gaze back to Caladnei, who was just beginning another question.
“Wait,” Narnra interrupted swiftly, “why don’t you tell me one? What spell’s she putting on me?” From the wall where she was still—lightly—held, she nodded toward Laspeera.
“One that will read the truth—or lack of it—in your words. It does no harm.”
Narnra’s dark eyes flamed for a moment. “And when you’re done squeezing all the truth out of me? Will I be allowed to go on breathing then?”
“Narnra Shalace, know this: ’Tis not my habit to murder outlanders in the Royal Palace of Cormyr—or anywhere else, for that matter. Those who manage to refrain from hurling daggers at me or my fellow loyal Cormyreans, at least. So you tell me now, d’you belong to any guilds, brotherhoods, secret societies, trading costers, temple agent orders, nobles’ ‘fellowships’ … or any other organization I’ve forgotten to list?”
“No. And I was never part of that conspiracy in the cellars.”
“Have you any living kin? Friends? Particular foes?”
“No. Thrice no.”
“Have you any outstanding debts, or agreements that bind you?”
“Nay.”
“Are you under any threat at this time, facing reprisals if you do or don’t do a certain thing?”
“No. Present company excepted.”
“Fair enough. Why’re you here in Cormyr?”
“Mischance and magic—and being too curious. I followed a wizard who spared my life. I knew not where ‘here’ was until after I arrived.”
“What d’you lack most in life, beyond fame, high birth, and enough coins to do just as you please?”
“My freedom,” Narnra snapped. “What answer did you expect?”
“If you were free and we’d never seen you and you were wandering Marsember unnoticed right now … what would matter most to you, if I met you, showed you I could slay you with magic on a whim, and asked you how you wanted to spend the rest of your life?”
Narnra smiled bitterly. “Getting away alive would matter most.”
Caladnei sighed. “Could we move past fencing with tongues, Narnra? I’ve better things to do than hold you against the wall all day.”
The Waterdhavian drew in a deep breath, eyed her captor, and said, “Mage Royal, I just want to get rich without working—unusual that, hey?—and to spend my days being free to do and go as I will—stealing what I can and doing just as I please.”
“Sounds like several noble ladies of Sembia I’ve met,” Laspeera muttered, an offering that earned her a silent ‘Later’ look from Caladnei.
The Mage Royal turned back to Narnra, relaxing her spell to let the thief down off the wall onto her feet again. “Let’s end this all the sooner, if you’re willing. Narnra, I think I know enough about who you are now. Now, I’d like very much to learn all you know, suspect, or have overheard as rumors in Waterdeep of any campaign to overthrow the Obarskyrs.”
“The who? Oh … the ruling family here, hey?” Narnra looked at Laspeera then pointed to her own forehead. “Vouch for me in this, yes?” She turned and met Caladnei’s eyes, and the moment she was staring into them said slowly and firmly, “Not … a … thing. I’ve heard nothing at all about anything political in Cormyr. Nothing until I got here, and all that Rightful Conspiracy gabble in the cellars—and I’m still not sure exactly what it was about. Discontent with the Crown, yes, but—” She shrugged.
“Keep to Waterdeep, Narnra. Purchases of swords, or the hire of warriors? Backed by merchants or nobles of Waterdeep? Warhorses? Hedge-wizards being hired for trips overland? The places might not be in Cormyr; they could be Westgate, or Saerloon and Selgaunt in Sembia, or Athkatla … or Iriaebor.”
Narnra shook her head. “No, Mage Royal, I swear to you, nothing like that. A few horses and wagons between one merchant and another, yes, but nothing that could mean war—and no huge chests full of coins setting off anywhere, either. Not that anyone in Waterdeep would be fool enough to let word get around about something like that, anyway.”
“Truth, Cala,” Laspeera said softly. “Utter truth.”
The Mage Royal smiled and nodded. “Well enough. We had to be sure.” She took another step closer and asked quietly, “Do you know any magic, Narnra? How to cast spells?”
“No. If I did, would I be …” Narnra let her voice trail off instead of asking something bitter.
“I’m sorry, Narnra. Is the body we can see now your true shape?”
“Yes,” Narnra replied, taken aback. “How could it not be?”
“How indeed.” Caladnei did not take her eyes off Narnra as she asked over her shoulder, “Speera, has every answer given me by Narnra been completely true?”
“No, Mage Royal. There’s one thing she wanted to be true, but stood in some doubt over.”
“And that was?”
“Living kin. Until recently she was sure she had none … but now knows better. The knowledge does not please her.”
In the silence that followed, Caladnei eyed Narnra thoughtfully, and then asked, “Are you going to tell me, Narnra, without greeting the wall again?”
The Waterdhavian clenched her teeth, looked at the floor, and burst out, “You’ve no right to do this. I don’t want to spend the rest of my days being hunted by every gods-cursed wizard in Faerûn! Can’t I keep this one secret? It’s nothing to do with Cormyr!”
“I must be the judge of that,” the Mage Royal replied softly. “Come, Narnra, what harm can saying a name or two do you? If ’tis nothing to do with Cormyr, as you say, then it can’t be a lineage exiled from here, and so …”
Glarasteer Rhauligan cleared his throat loudly, and Caladnei looked over at him, stepping smoothly back from Narnra to do so.
“You thought your parents were dead, right?” the Harper asked Narnra.
She looked into his eyes and said, “Yes.”
“You’ve never had siblings, aye?”
“Yes.”
“So you’ve just learned your mother—or your father—was alive, hey?”
“Yes,” Narnra said, shrinking back from him as if he was going to hurl something at her.
“You followed a wizard here, didn’t you?”
Narnra glared at him and kept silence. Four people stared at each other in the vast and otherwise empty room before Laspeera asked, “You’re the daughter of Elminster of Shadowdale, aren’t you?”
Narnra shot her a look that had daggers in it and—reluctantly—nodded. Her voice, when it came, was barely a whisper: “I … fear so.”
She looked up swiftly. Rhauligan was eyeing her with bright interest, while Laspeera’s eyes had a strange expression that held several things, pity foremost among them. Caladnei was frowning.
“In the cellars of Marsember, Elminster certainly didn’t seem to be treating you as his daughter,” she observed, stepping closer again.
Narnra drew in a deep breath and told the floor tonelessly, “I don’t think Elminster knows he sired me.”
The Mage Royal turned to Laspeera. “Does this seem likely to you?”
“The fathering? Very. The not knowing all of his offspring and their doings does surprise me, yes. I thought the Old Mage knew damned near every time any wizard in all Faerûn scratched himself.”
Caladnei nodded and turned back to Narnra. “You realize the danger if word of your parentage spreads.” Her words were not a question.
The thief from Waterdeep nodded and said bitterly, “All too well.” She shrugged. “But as I seem doomed to spend whatever short remainder of life is left to me as a helpless captive, tossed from one ruthless wizard to another—present company very much included—it hardly seems to matter.”
Caladnei’s eyes were thoughtful. “What will you do if I release you?”
Narnra shrugged again. “Steal all I can, probably, until I’ve coins enough to buy caravan-passage back to Waterdeep … unless, while thieving here in Cormyr, I like what I see eno
ugh to stick around.”
Caladnei smiled sourly. “As Mage Royal, I’ve a better idea: You can serve yourself best if you stay alive and serve Cormyr at the same time.”
“Serve how?”
“As a paid spy while you thieve—with occasional offers of additional monies for more daring tasks of plundering or ‘placing’ items to be found … as Rhauligan, here, does for us.”
“So it’s agree or you’ll kill me?”
“Oh, no,” Caladnei said softly. “I need information about Cormyr’s foes. It’ll be much more useful to simply spread the news around Suzail that you’re Elminster’s daughter, and watch the wolves come out of hiding to get at you.”
“I’ll still die!”
The Mage Royal shrugged. “We all do, sooner or later—and you’ll be free to die in your own way, just as you believe all of us overbearing sorts are.” She waited. “Well?”
Narnra slid down the wall until she was sitting, sighed loudly, then told the carved dragon ceiling, “I’m furious at being at the mercy of any wizard.” She turned her head to glare at Caladnei and added, “I think I’ll tell you so.”
Rhauligan’s amused snort was echoed—in far more ladylike manners—by the two Cormyrean women.
“Moreover, before I agree to anything, I need to know not just the ‘or else,’ but also the ‘what else’ and the ‘what about after,’ too.”
Caladnei was almost smiling. “And those things would be?”
“The bad things you’re not yet telling me about this … and what happens to me when the Mage Royal of Cormyr deems me expendable.”
Caladnei’s smile appeared, wry but full. “Prudence at last. A bit late, but making an appearance nonetheless.”
She knelt close to where Narnra was sitting and said, “To save Cormyr, we are all expendable. However, ’tis my hope that you’ll become so useful to us all that you serve loyally for years to come—whereupon you might be rewarded with a ‘way out.’ A title, a nice mansion to live out your wrinkled years … a better ‘after’ than many can hope for. As for the ‘what else,’ I need to know your trustworthiness and so would begin by mind-reaming you directly.”