by Ed Greenwood
She started for the bed, automatically reaching to roll her sleeves back out of the way. She chuckled a trifle harshly: dressed like this, she didn't have any sleeves….
SEVEN
Known By His Ring
Dark and savage rage was rising in Broglan Sarmyn as he stalked up to the closed door of Storm's bedchamber.
Murndal had never returned to the study.
It was early indeed for insistent servants to be rousing Broglan from the chair where he'd finally fallen asleep, waiting for the young wizard's report. They rushed him down chilly corridors, heedless of his stiff, aching limbs and urgent need to relieve himself. All of it was at the behest of a shameless outlander Harper who hid her insolence behind the title of Chosen of Mystra! Hah! He could style himself First Prophet of Azuth if he'd happened to have so brazen an ego, and take on the same airs….
He was a dozen angry paces from Storm's door and the expressionless Purple Dragons flanking it when a shadow stepped away from the wall in front of him.
With a start, he recognized Ergluth Rowanmantle, the boldshield of Northtrees March.
"What is this-a court meeting?" Broglan snapped. "This had better be worth rousing me at this hour." Close on the heels of his words came the faint cry of a rooster from the vale beyond the keep walls. "Bloody Harpers," the wizard added-and of course, the bedchamber door in front of both men swung open at that moment.
"A favorite expression of mine, too," Storm agreed mildly, waving at them to enter. She wore a fine court gown, complete with earrings to outdazzle those of the old Summerstar aunts. A pectoral flashed and gleamed all down the low front where her gown was cut away.
Broglan found himself looking where that pectoral was designed to make him look. He harrumphed and fixed a gimlet eye on the Bard of Shadowdale. "You summoned me, Lady Silverhand?"
"Both of you, actually," Storm told him calmly. "You'll find the reason why in the bed there. Lord Rowanmantle, if you'd be so kind?"
Ergluth gave her the weary look of a man who knows just what unpleasant thing is coming. With one hand, he turned back the bedclothes. Murndal Claeron lay on his back, spread-eagled on the linens, his head dark, burned out, and hollow.
Broglan stared, openmouthed, and found no words to say. Empty, sightless eye sockets stared up at him, and the mouth was a similar gaping void. Something with talons had shredded the enchanted cloak, but he could see no sign of the false scepter.
"Suppose you tell us," the boldshield said, after a swift glance at the white-faced leader of the war wizards, "just how this mage came to be here."
"I'd also like to know that," Storm replied. "Whoever sent this unfortunate to me in the wee hours-he appeared in midair, and fell right on top of me-must be familiar with a spell unknown to me: magic that can teleport the dead."
Broglan made a wordless sound of denial and disbelief
"He was on a mission for you?" Storm asked quietly. "Where was he going when he left your study?"
They waited, but Broglan merely shook his bowed head and covered his eyes. The boldshield made a certain gesture; his men withdrew and closed the door, leaving the three of them alone in the bedchamber with the sprawled corpse.
"All the younger magelings found it necessary to go and do urgent things at the same time yestereve," Ergluth said grimly. "No doubt their scurrying was to achieve one purpose: allowing this luckless boy his chance to slip away unseen. Where did he go, Broglan?"
The war wizard shook his head again.
"He went into the Haunted Tower, didn't he?" Storm asked quietly.
Broglan's head snapped up; his eyes were wild. "No!"
"He may have been heading elsewhere " Storm continued relentlessly, "but to get there he had to avoid Ergluth's guard posts. And to do that, he got himself into the dark ways where he could travel unhindered." She sighed. "He was heading for the crypt, wasn't he?"
Broglan said nothing, but they could tell from his sudden stillness that she'd hit upon the truth.
Storm shook her head. "Well, another wizard is dead, and can tell us nothing." She walked away from the bedside, adding, "I doubt he can be restored, short of direct divine intercession…Mystra doesn't tend to do such things even for great mages, to say nothing of ambitious novices. He's gone."
She turned to face them both, and asked with exasperation, "Sir Broglan, isn't it about tim e we started to work together? While you indulge in your little plots and secrets, your magelings go on dying. I can't fight to protect someone I don't know is out there, roaming the keep like a thief."
That stung. Broglan's head jerked around to face her fully, and his eyes blazed. Still he kept silent. The Purple Dragon commander put his hand on the hilt of his sword, took a slow step away, and turned to watch the wizard narrowly.
"I worked on Murndal's body most of the night," Storm said, "trying to learn something-anything-from it. His cloak bore magic before someone-our slayer, no doubt-tore it to ribbons, and he carried the usual components for spellcasting. His boots say he walked in dusty places, and he tried to defend himself with a dagger that's gone, now … and that's about all he can still tell us."
"Shall I order the scouring of the Haunted Tower?" Ergluth asked.
Storm shook her head. "From what I've seen, our murderer would not be found. . and could roam the keep while your armsmen were searching the tower. It is a place with its own phantoms, and thus would give chances for them to mistakenly hurt each other. You were going to issue crossbows, were you not?" Ergluth nodded silently, and she shook her head. "A recipe for disaster," she told him, "though I admit I haven't thought of anything much better."
"So you have no counsel for us?" the boldshield asked.
Storm spread her hands. "I'd like to cast some silent watch spells on you and your senior officers, and on Broglan and all of his war wizards."
Ergluth raised an eyebrow. "And just what do 'silent watch' spells do?"
"Allow me to see out of the eyes of anyone I cast it on, for about a twelve-count, when they call my name aloud," the bard told him. "Once only, and only if they call desiring to summon me, not if they merely say my name in normal converse."
Ergluth nodded. "This seems wise," he said. "Will it take you to the person calling on you?"
Storm shook her head. "I'm afraid not," she said. "If they look around, I may be able to see enough of their surroundings to teleport to them. Otherwise, it at least lets me see who's attacking them."
"You don't sound all that hopeful," the Purple Dragon commented.
Storm gestured to the bed. "What length talons did that? I think we're dealing with a shapeshifter."
"A Mai. . Malinaug-er, Malaugrym?" Ergluth asked, stumbling over the unfamiliar word.
The bard shrugged. "I can't tell that yet, one way or the other." Her eyes went to the war wizard. "Well, Broglan? What say you?"
"To your spell? No. Absolutely not," the mage replied. "No war wizard of Cormyr dares allow someone else to spy on him!"
"Ah," Storm said, "but it's quite all right for you to spy-to use your word-on others?"
"What d'you mean?" Broglan snarled, eyes afire again.
Storm waved a hand at the man-high oval mirror on the wall, its frame still bristling with daggers. "Which of your men was watching me last night? Did he like what he saw?"
Broglan flushed scarlet. "Madam," he began icily, "I assure you-"
"I doubt you can in truth assure me of anything," Storm said quietly. "Yet it is not my purpose to humiliate anyone or argue; I merely want us all to be better protected by working together. What can I promise, or do, to make your 'absolutely not' become a 'yes'?"
"I-nothing," Broglan said heavily. "I must protect my men and myself against possible treachery. If Lord Vangerdahast ever heard of my allowing a possibly hostile outlander to gain any magical influence-or even potential influence-over a war wizard …"
"He'd huff for a few minutes and then tell you never to do it again," Storm said smoothly, "without clearing it
with him first. Am I right?"
Broglan shook his head. "A reprimand would be the very least I could expect," he muttered.
"Broglan," Storm said crisply, "worrying about your career prospects is a bit pointless if you wind up dead-forever dead-because you ran around afraid of offending rules. If you want to die blindly for your realm, go join the soldiery. I've seen plenty of Purple Dragons do just that."
Ergluth Rowanmantle's brow darkened. He shrugged. A tiny smile plucked at the corners of his mouth, and he turned away, murmuring very softly, "The worst lashing a man can suffer-under the tongue of an annoyed lady bard …"
Neither of the others paid him any heed. Broglan's voice was rising in anger. "Since you arrived, Lady Silverhand, you have persisted in ignoring the rightful authority vested in officers of the Crown of Cormyr, treating us as lackeys-or ridiculing us as fools and empty blusterers, trusting in your Harper rank and your gender to escape the consequences of such insults! I've had quite enough of it, and my patience is now at an end! Either you'll show a little deferential obedience and cooperation, or you'll be shown some shackles and a cell to wear them in! Now, tell us straight: who is this murderer? You recognized that image you conjured up from the seneschal in the crypt. Who is it? I command you to share that information with the boldshield and myself. We are the only lawful investigators of the unjust and protectors of the right in Firefall Vale."
Ergluth Rowanmantle waited for the stormy reply that was sure to come. In the terse silence, the mage's hands tightened on a certain wand at his belt.
Surprisingly, Storm smiled. "Ah, you're awake at last. Good. Are you listening?" As Broglan sputtered, her eyes went to Ergluth. He nodded.
Storm walked to the bed, put her arm around one of its ornamental posts to lean against it, and told the nearest wall, "Long ago, I came to love a man-the man whose likeness you saw last night. Maxan Maxer was his name, a good and law-abiding man from Turmish. He was quick with a blade, and one of the most thoughtful beings I've ever met. He was always anticipating, thinking ahead, and arranging things to flow easily."
The bard's voice grew husky. She stared off through the wall, seeing things far away and long ago. "We lived and laughed and adventured together for years, until he fell… in the Year of the Bright Blade."
"You thought him dead?" Broglan snapped, every inch the inquisitor.
Storm looked at him coolly. "I saw him die. We were in a ruined city north of Escalant, fighting tanar'ri. Cambions and dretches had been scouring the countryside, seizing farm folk and bearing them off to an old temple there."
"For some sort of dark ritual?" Broglan asked, sounding disgusted. "I must have heard this tale a hundred times."
Storm shrugged. "Do you want to hear my words, or not? If I offer truth and you dismiss it, war wizard, there is very little I can do to help you. If you think me false, there are spells that can detect lying, and-unlike some-I'd gladly submit to them."
She looked at him in clear challenge and kept silent until Broglan dropped his eyes and muttered, "Go on."
Storm nodded her head as if she were a queen solemnly agreeing to something distasteful. She said, "All of the foul ones served a marilith who sought more power. She believed-perhaps rightly-that the ritual she'd discovered or devised would yield to her the life-forces of sacrificed humans so that she could grow far more powerful than others of her kind… and come to dominate them. We fought our way into the temple and disrupted her ritual."
"Was that ritual the cause of the spell storms I've heard about, that made southern Thay perilous?" the boldshield asked, frowning.
"Not the ritual, but our breaking of it," Storm said. "It had been going for a long time, and the energies burst out in waves of enchanted fire and wild magic. The temple roof fell. Many humans and tanar'ri alike died. My beloved hewed his way almost to the marilith, striking ahead where I could not reach, being engaged with too many foes."
Old anguish made her voice harsh. She looked away, eyes falling to the silent body on her bed.
"A tanar'ri drew six blades and fenced with him. I heard her hiss in glee: 'A worthy opponent to slay!' Maxer proved a worthier opponent than she'd thought, lopping off several of her arms. As I cut my way free of the last cambions around me, I heard her shriek with rage, and saw her writhing, racked with pain. She stopped toying with my beloved."
Storm took a deep breath and turned to face them again. "She ran her snakelike tail up around his neck from behind. . and tore his head off. I saw his body jerk and spray out lifeblood. … I saw his head roll across the temple. Before I could avenge my love, the marilith fled in spell-smokes, still clutching his body. When all was done, I could find no trace of his head, either."
"So if this is not him, risen from that death," Ergluth said slowly, "it is someone or something who knows you-and that seeing your man's likeness will cause you distress."
Storm nodded grimly.
Broglan stared at her, and then at the Purple Dragon commander, drawing back from the boldshield almost as if he'd been betrayed. "So now we're chasing phantoms!" he roared angrily. He turned in a swirl of rumpled robes and stormed out.
The lady and the soldier stood looking at each other for a moment. Ergluth said softly, "Our war wizard hates and fears what he can't understand or overmaster."
Storm shrugged. "Being human, how could he do otherwise?"
That tiny crook reappeared at the corner of the Purple Dragon's mouth. "How could he not, indeed? Cast your spell on me, Lady Silverhand-we two, at least, will work together in this."
Storm smiled suddenly. "It's nice to meet someone reasonable in this keep," she said, laying a hand on his arm.
" 'Sweet reason oft in short supply,' " he wryly quoted a famous Cormyrean poem, and sat down on the blanket-chest at the foot of her bed. "If you don't mind my boldness," he said carefully, "there are things I'd like to know, about-the fate of Gondegal, and how Cormyr really turned back Sembia from invading in the early days, and if Princess Alusair has joined the Harpers, and. ."
"Hold, Lord Rowanmantle!" Storm broke in with a smile. "We've too much at hand to sit about talking now. Perhaps when all this is over. For now, don't thrust as Broglan did-or, I warn you, I'll become a lonely, flustered woman and forget all my answers."
"Flustered?" Ergluth snorted. "Lady, you are near to being a goddess! You've walked these lands for centuries, and seen and done more than I'll ever do. Right, I'll behave, and not probe like a lord high inquisitor. And in return, pray, spare me your talk of being 'flustered' or a weak woman. I sit here in awe of you!"
"Really?" Storm said, giggling and bouncing like a little girl. "That's nice!"
Ergluth rolled his eyes up at the ceiling, and was rewarded by her full, throaty chuckle. "If you'd like the body removed now," he said carefully, "my men …"
Orling the Bold proudly touched the silver harp pin on his breast, his heart full. High Lady Dragonbreast herself had pinned it there, and kissed him, not an hour past. He could still taste the cinnamon of her lip glaze.
Reflectively running a tongue over his lips, he closed his eyes and rocked in pure pleasure. Soon the celebratory revel for the new-honored Harpers would begin, and Twilight Hall would be plunged into dancing and drinking and dalliance. And he must be ready.
He hefted the harp in his hands and ran a gentle finger over its strings. Two were badly out of tune, and a third just a trifle. He opened his eyes to start tightening, looking at the silently glowing glass display case that rose proudly on its plinth in the center of this little antechamber. Within was a ring. It had always floated there, turning slowly. It winked at him as some curve of its sculpted dragon caught the light. Something from Cormyr, wasn't it?
Orling smiled at the ring, noting silver, gold, and electrum in it as it turned. He plucked at his lowest string. Then he blinked, gulped, and nearly dropped his harp.
The ring was gone. The case still glowed, as brightly as it had before, but now it was empty. Completely empty. He peer
ed at its bottom to be sure the ring hadn't just fallen, but before he really looked, he knew the ring had vanished. Silently, without flash or fuss-it was gone, right before his proverbial eyes.
Orling the Bold drew in a deep, unhappy breath. Whom was he going to tell? And would they believe him?
There was a sharp rap at the door. Broglan looked up. "No armsman nor servant knocks like that," he said softly. "Be ready for trouble."
Insprin nodded and took two wands from the table by his elbow. He handed one to Corathar and the other to Hundarr. By the time he'd joined the two younger wizards in a rough semicircle around the door, Insprin had his own wand out.
Broglan took the center position in the curved line of mages and drew his wand. Satisfied that all four wands were trained on the door, the leader of the war wizards called, "Enter!"
The door swung open. Storm Silverhand took a step into the room, earrings glittering above her gown. Out of the corner of his eye, Broglan saw Hundarr look at her with new respect. She swung the door shut behind herself.
"Come no closer," Broglan said coldly. Storm turned, one eyebrow raised-to face four ready wands. "We would know why you are here."
Storm squarely met his gaze. "It is imperative that we work more closely together, Sir Broglan. None of us can afford more deaths. You-all of you-must agree to my placing silent watch spells over you, as Lord Rowanmantle has done."
"Rowanmantle's a fool for a pretty face," Broglan snapped, "and such blandishments fail here. I've given you my refusal already; be aware that each time you force me to repeat it will bring a sharper and more hostile reception. Things would be much simpler if you were not here, Lady Harper."
"I agree," Storm told him, every inch a court lady as she took two smooth steps nearer. "They'd be much simpler indeed: you'd all be dead by now." She shook her head. "You may soon be anyway if you refuse even this simple measure of protection."
"The answer remains no, lady" Broglan said coldly, "and the door remains there, awaiting you. Pray, begone, or you'll force me to banish you from Cormyr in the name of the king! What's going on in this keep now is far too important for us to listen to silly and dangerous requests to submit to your spellcasting!"