Elminster's Daughter tes-5

by Ed Greenwood

  "I realize this is overbold, and you must feel perfectly comfortable in refusing to answer," an unfamiliar monk murmured from her other side, "but why?"

  Noumea looked up and gave him a smile.

  "If we're being so blunt: I suspect this is but the first step in an elaborate plan to economically and then-covertly-politically dominate all realms of Faerun."

  "Of course," two of the monks said together, and at least another three in the ring that had silently formed around her nodded.

  "Wherefore my fascination with recent reports and writings," Noumea added, indicating the sheafs of parchment and stacked volumes on the slightly sloped reading-desk before her.

  "I sense you're both well-traveled and worldly," a monk said from directly behind her. "Permit me, then, to mention something not to be found in these written records but only in the diaries we compile of the news and rumor that comes daily to our gates."

  "Please do," Noumea said politely, shifting slightly and indicating the bench beside her. The monks smiled as if she'd passed some sort of test, and the monk who'd spoken from behind her stepped forward and sat down so close beside her that his robe almost brushed her hip. A white, puckered old sword-scar adorned one of his cheeks diagonally, and his hair was as gray as a sword in need of polishing.

  "I'm Thaerabho," he said with a smile, "and my field is the doings of those who wield magic in Faerun outside temples and priesthoods. You've heard of the Chosen of Mystra?"

  Noumea nodded eagerly, and Thaerabho's smile broadened.

  "Then let me share this much: Some among them have been working against the Red Wizards in a lovely manner. With spells they 'twist' many of the portals established by the Thayans in their enclaves so those who use such translocations can have spells stolen from their minds en route, suggestions planted, memories and information 'read,' and so on."

  "Sweet Mystra," Noumea whispered, genuinely awed.

  Thaerabho nodded. "If the Thayans ever grow too strong in a particular place, if I may speak cynically, the portal in that spot-or all of them, along with, of course, whoever's using them at the time-could explode. Or perhaps a suggestion planted in the heads of all mages who've ever used one of the Thayan portals could be awakened, all at once, all over Faerun … a suggestion, say, to rush to a particular Thayan city and attack Szass Tarn or some other zulkir there, before he accomplishes some dread goal that will sacrifice them."

  Noumea shook her head and asked softly, "What if I am of Thay or of the Chosen and want no one in Faerun to suspect any of this?"

  The monk whose nose was almost brushing her own replied, "No, Lady Noumea Cardellith, you are of neither-and are not a Harper, either. You're but a seeker after knowledge, and we arm all who come here with the weapons of fact and lore and reason-sorted rumor. What they do with such tools after they depart is not our affair. We but seek to arm those wise-or cunning- enough to come asking and looking."

  "Who are you?" a shaken Noumea whispered.

  The ring of monks smiled.

  "Simple folk of Faerun who love old books, and learning, and reading the thoughts and hopes and records of beings now dust," Esmer replied.

  Noumea looked around at them all and shook her head. "I think you're among the most powerful and dangerous forces on all Toril."

  The monks stopped smiling.

  "That, too," Thaerabho agreed lightly. "Knowing that, what will you do now, Lady Noumea Cardellith, sometime mage and unhappy wife?" More monks were in the reading-room now, drifting toward her from all sides.

  Noumea stared at him for a long time, ignoring the silent assembly of monks and the rods some of them held ready then lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "I … don't know."

  The ring-wall of monks seemed to relax, and a few drifted away again. Thaerabho's smile returned.

  "Ah, the truth. The right answer to give us, always."

  Noumea stared into his hazel eyes for a long time then drew in a deep breath and asked, "What do you think I should do?"

  "Ah," the sword-scarred monk responded eagerly, as several of the closest monks drew in around her again, reaching in under the great reading-desk to unclip folded wooden stools from its underside, and sitting down on them. "Now you've done the next right thing. We'll not tell you what to do next. We never do. We shall, however, tell you all we can to help you decide where to go from here in life."

  Lady Noumea blinked at him. "Why didn't I come here years ago?"

  "Why indeed?"

  * * * * *

  As the guards swung the great doors open for her, the Mage Royal of Cormyr looked in and up at the carved stone dragons frozen forever in the act of erupting from the ceiling of the room ahead of her. The scene was as magnificent as always, all scales, surging strength, and great sweeping curves of wings, catlike and serpentine both at once.

  She found herself on the verge of tears again, and almost fondly muttered, "Damn you, Old Mage," as she entered the Dragonwing Chamber alone.

  Three people stood in the center of its vast, empty polished floor awaiting her: Laspeera, Rhauligan, and the thief who'd fled from the cellars, captured at last. Narna Shalace.

  Rhauligan was shrugging himself back into his vest, his belt still unbuckled at his waist. Caladnei smiled thinly. She must have led him a merry chase. The spell-thrall holding her now would be Speera's work.

  She gave Laspeera and Rhauligan nods of thanks and approached their paralyzed but unbound captive, banishing Laspeera's magic as she came. "So we meet again, Narnra of Waterdeep," she began pleasantly.

  The thief, who'd bent over to busily rub hands and ankles, shaking out her limbs as if her body felt unfamiliar to her, did not reply.

  "Narnra," Caladnei continued, "you stand in the Palace of the Purple Dragon in Suzail, in the realm of Cormyr. As such, you're utterly within my power. Should not mere prudence lead you to some measure of polite cooperation, whatever your personal feelings toward us?"

  The thief straightened up to give Caladnei a cold, considering look then glanced over at Laspeera and Rhauligan. They gazed patiently back at her, faces impassive.

  Narnra tossed her head and glared at Caladnei. "You have an audience for your grand speeches," she said, nodding at the man who'd captured her and the woman whose spell had paralyzed her. "What d'you want of me?"

  "Answers. A few civil, honest, and generous-with-what-you-know answers," the Mage Royal replied.

  Narnra sighed. "I can't think what precious things I might know that could possibly be of any use to you. You're not planning to become the terror of purses in Trades Ward, are you?"

  "No," Caladnei replied in a dry voice. "There! You see? An answer, and so easily and swiftly given, too. Try it for a short time, do well at it-and you'll be free to go."

  "Go where?" Narnra snarled. "Out into the streets of your city, to starve? Or be pounced on by the next of your soldiers who doesn't like the look of me? 'Oh, sir, I'm just a thief from Water-deep-that's right, a thief-and I've just been talking with your Mage Royal, and she'-oh, aye, I'm sure they'll believe me!"

  "Do you love Waterdeep so much?"

  "What? Is this one of your questions? Could you not have found a traveling merchant, and ask-"

  "Do you love Waterdeep so much?"

  Narnra flung up her hands. "I know Waterdeep," she snarled. " 'Tis my home, the only place I know, where I know how to get something to eat, where . . ."

  She fell silent, eyes narrowing.

  Caladnei was smiling. "You see? Honest answers are not so hard, once you begin. Do it twice or thrice, and you'll have found the habit."

  Narnra gave her a dark look and hugged herself as if she were cold. "Wizards are so clever," she muttered. "I sometimes wonder how better off we'd all be without them."

  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, Gala. 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 Faerun 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 look 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 out-landers 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.