Elminster's Daughter

"Command me, Mage Royal," she forced herself to say. She even managed a smile.

* * * * *

Suddenly, Huldyl Rauthur was no longer alone in the corridor. A Purple Dragon winked into existence, gave him a smile, and raised one hand beckoningly.

The warrior's face melted—just for a moment—into that of the wizard Darkspells.

Huldyl considered fainting for a moment then settled for just swallowing hard and obediently walking toward the Red Wizard, who smiled, became a Purple Dragon again, and led the way through another door.

* * * * *

The anklet was doing its work perfectly. Even better, Caladnei thus far suspected nothing. A trifle too slow and trusting still, our Mage Royal . . .

Elminster smiled wryly. To say nothing of the increasingly slow wits of one Elminster of Shadowdale.

Caladnei's thoughts had certainly been in turmoil this last little while, as she kept a hostile mind sane within her own, but the anklet's light prying had been more than clear on one matter: Narnra Shalace was his daughter.

"Bless ye, Mystra," he murmured. "This now calls for bolder action."

He called to mind her likeness there in his paper-littered study and with a soft-spoken spell built it from a vivid mental image to an apparently solid figure in leathers, glaring at him through dark hair. Its pose was frozen as he strolled around it, peering critically and adjusting hips there and height of shoulder there. . . .

He frowned, beckoned with his finger, and told the curved pipe that answered his summons, "I can't remember how she walked and held her hands when she moved. Time to go and take a peek."

Leaving the pipe floating mutely in front of a fading Narnra, he turned, took a step, and vanished.

* * * * *

The bard wore leathers that were gray with age arid thick with road-dust. His face was largely hidden behind a pewter tankard as tall as a short warrior's breastplate, and he sat hunched over a table in the gloom in the back corner of this particular taproom in Suzail because this—specifically, the broom-closet door behind him—was where the portal-link to Marsember was.

Roldro Tattershar didn't think too many folk of Cormyr, even Highknights and War Wizards, knew about this particular portal anymore. Not even most of his fellow Harpers had heard of it. Wherefore Roldro took care to affix a villainous false mustache onto his upper lip whenever he visited The Green Wyvern and employ garb far different from his customary floridly flamboyant dress.

However, as he set down his tankard on this particular occasion, he choked and almost swallowed his mustache when the air right in front of him wavered and suddenly produced two men, standing with their backs to him where there'd been nothing but empty air before. Swiftly and silently Roldro put his head down on his arm and let his tankard loll and lean in his thumb, looking every inch the passed-out drunkard.

"I can't stay long!" the shorter man hissed, ru

"How much do you think the Mage Royal and Laspeera know about the details of Vangerdahast's work?"

Rauthur frowned. "Almost all of it. He trained both of them."

"No, no! His grand scheme—the one he's working on right now! Binding dragons to be defenders of Cormyr!"

"Oh! Ah, that plan. Is that really what he's . . . ? Gods! Uh, I'm—I'm not sure. I can try to find out, but. . . well, I'm not a very sly questioner."

"That's stone cold truth, Rauthur. Why not say you heard Van-gerdahast muttering something to himself like 'these dragon bindings will never work!' when his shields went down for a moment, as part of these 'troubles,' and mark their reactions?"

"Ah—yes, yes, of course!"

"Good!" The taller, thi

Roldro Tattershar promptly sprang up from his chair like a bolt of lightning in a hurry, yanked open the broom-closet door, and drained his tankard in one long pull ere setting it down carefully on the table and backing through the closet door.

Vangerdahast pla

Besides, being a Harper was hungry and thirsty work, and the Lady Joysil Ambrur would be sure to pay handsomely for this information.

* * * * *

Caladnei smiled. "Well, I'm sure you're in need of food, drink, a long soak, and some sleep. We daren't give you those here lest someone see you and take note that our hunted prisoner is now more of an honored guest, but we can give you ample coins to get such necessities at an i

The Harper rolled his eyes, told the ceiling in a mutter, "Always me! Always! Have you noticed?" and from a pouch poured out an ample handful of coins into his palm. He put all of them carefully into Narnra's hand.

"Hear then," Caladnei continued, "your first task: Find the traitor I know is among my War Wizards—not by magic or by confrontation but rather by observing the doings of certain War Wizards in Suzail from the background, trying to stay u

Narnra raised an eyebrow. "You can't just mind-ream them?"

"Many have trap-magics bound into their shield-spells . . . moreover, they do much better work for me when they think their little sideline activies go unobserved."

" 'Little sideline activities'? Illict and corrupt this and that?"

"Some of them, yes. Others merely have undignified hobbies or socially awkward liaisons, and I don't want them unhappily peering over their shoulders expecting my cold eye on their backsides for the rest of their careers—or those careers will end up being worth very little to me."

"Caladnei, I'm the stranger here. How am I supposed to know when a surreptitious visit to a bedchamber or a murmured name traded for a few coins is a little sideline and when it's high treason to Cormyr?"

The Mage Royal sighed. "A good point. Look, Narnra, I don't care—Speera here doesn't care, Vangey in his day didn't care, and all the Wizards of War knew it—if this or that hairy male War Wizard likes to put on rouge and lady-gowns or roll in nutbutter honey behind closed doors. Or tries to seduce every last noble lady—or lord, for that matter—in the realm. I also don't care if they mutter future trade opportunities to every merchant in the kingdom."

She waved an emphatic finger. "I do care if they go behind closed doors to talk to rich Sembians, Red Wizards of Thay, Zhen-tarim, anyone from Westgate, or nobles who seem to be using false names or who never leave dockside i

She sighed and added in calmer tones, "If they do, don't try to confront, harm, or follow them. Just come and tell me who went where. I'll know, of course, if they're supposed to be doing something sly for me wherever you saw them."

"And if I'm arrested as an outlander spy?"

"Demand to be interrogated by a senior War Wizard—something so feared by most Cormyreans that they'll be impressed and won't think you're bluffing. When you end up facing any War Wizard, tell them to contact Laspeera or myself 'in the name of both Azouns.' They dare not ignore that phrase. We'll tell them we've cast a spell on your mind as an experiment and you may therefore do all sorts of odd things . . . and aren't to be prevented from doing so."