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her the shapely leather-clad legs of a lone figure who'd been following her.
That person lowered one hand to point at the torch and it rose smoothly into the
air, fires quickening once more . . . and came floating upright back to Narnra. At the
beginning of its journey, its flickering radiance was quite sufficient to show the
Waterdhavian thief the half-smiling face of the Mage Royal of Cormyr.
Narnra swallowed and raised her hand in salute and caught the torch in her other
hand, hoping Caladnei wasn't so spiteful with her Art as to make it explode into a
thief-incinerating inferno or some like doom.
The torch stayed a torch, and with a sigh of mingled relief and resignation Narnra
turned back to those strange flickerings of magic.
A few paces onward she spun around again to see if Caladnei was following her.
She could see nothing but shifting darkness, but a very dry voice murmured in her
ear, so seemingly close that she couldn't help but jump: A beacon indeed, Narnra
Shalace of Waterdeep. Lead on, and together let us see what unfolds.
Narnra turned her face to the unseen ceiling overhead and flung a silent curse at
Mask and Tymora, hefted the torch despairingly in her hands . . . and stepped
forward again.
The archway was very close now, perhaps a dozen paces ahead to her left. She
held the torch as low and as far to the right as she could, walked in that direction,
then crept along the wall toward the edge of the arch. Yes, she was carrying a
blazing beacon but perhaps there was light and strife enough in the cellar to keep
attention away from one closer torch among many. Perhaps . . .
Going down to her knees and ducking her head as low to the cold stone floor as
she could, the Silken Shadow of Waterdeep peered around the edge of the archway.
The cellar held only two men and their magic. One was the old wizard, her only
way out of all this peril. The other was a younger man who hung gabbling fearfully in
midair, gripped in a glowing, swirling cloud of enchantment.
So she was caught between the slowly and carefully advancing Caladnei of
Cormyr herding her as deftly as any drover crowding oxen into a
caravan-pen and the old mage who'd so casually defeated her. No doubt the Mage
Royal was walking with spells upon spells raised like shields around her . . . and the
power of the old wizard was obvious.
The very air glowed and throbbed with it, a pulsing so mighty it almost hurt the
ears.
"Ye could have done this the easy way, ye know," Elminster told the
sweat-drenched, trembling man trembling in the air above him. "I'm a gentle tyrant
and require only a few breaths of thy precious time a hindrance in thy scheduled
rush to world domination, I grant ye, yet 'twill give thee a chance to practice gloating
and shouting clever jests and phrases about thy puissance to come . . . but no,
Thauvas, ye had to struggle. And I thought Thayans understood the proper roles of
master and slave. Ye disappoint me." His voice sharpened. "So speak. Ye are ?"
"T-Thauvas Zlorn, Red Wizard of Thay."
"Thank ye. So, Thauvas, ye came all the way to damp Marsem-ber not the
nearest port of call from Thayan shores merely to enjoy a revel with some
strangers in a cellar, is that it?"
"Y-y-yes uh ah I mean no!"
"Thy mind wavers and is troubled; bad traits for one who seeks to master
wizardry." Elminster shook his head. "The day of thy becoming any sort of zulkir
seems distant indeed. Ye came to join or at least scout this Rightful Conspiracy, did
ye not? Or is Thay already behind it, and ye were but carrying out an assigned
mission?"
Zlorn's face rippled and contorted as he fought against the horribly strong prying
that stabbed into his memories and thoughts like a cook jabbing a skewer into a
quace-fruit. Unwillingly, his lips moved at the bidding of a second inexorable magic
to blurt out the truth. "Y-y-yes."
"Yes which, most eloquent Thauvas? Speak loudly, for all to hear!"
Narnra froze at the old wizard's words then spun around to look at Caladnei. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]