Elminster's Daughter

"Well, that's true enough."

Caladnei looked hurt for the moment it took her to see Narnra's crooked smile.

"I'm sorry," the Mage Royal said gently. "I know none of this has been easy for you. Think of it as a long, grand theft and us as your fellow gang members."

Narnra rolled her eyes and said briskly, "This is going to proceed much better if I know who these War Wizards are, what they look like, and where in Suzail I might have the slightest hope of finding them."

Caladnei nodded and reached out a finger to touch Narnra's forehead. "Hold still. This is the easiest way, believe it or not."

There was a moment of icy tingling then images burst into Narnra's mind, unfolding from momentary confusion into the faces of a dozen War Wizards. Two women and ten men, all moving slightly, just as they'd been doing when captured by Caladnei's magic. Names appeared in her head with each one, reappearing whenever she turned her attention back to an image already seen. "Thaeram Duskwinter, Bathtar Flamegallow, Calaethe Hallow-thorn, Iymeera Juthbuck, Helvaunt Lanternlar, Bowsar Ostramarr, Huldyl Rauthur, Storntar Redmantle . . ."

Narnra frowned, closed her eyes, and sat back, shaking her head slightly.

"Got those?" Rhauligan asked. When she nodded, he added, "Good," and drew a much-folded square of vellum from his sleeve. It opened out into an incredibly detailed map of Suzail that made Narnra lean forward in awe to peer at the little dots that denoted every last building in the city. The Harper put a finger on one dot and said, "This is a tavern called The Downed Falcon, a favorite haunt of Flamegallow and Ostramarr. And this down here is the—"

Narnra chuckled despite herself, looked slyly over at Caladnei, and asked lightly, "No mental images of taprooms and ladies' privy-chambers? You disappoint me!"

Laspeera closed the door of the Dragonwing Chamber and turned to give Caladnei an expressionless nod. Narnra had departed, presumably soon to creep about on local balconies and rooftops, listening and peering at certain War Wizards.

Caladnei gave Rhauligan a mirthless smile. "You know your task?"

"Shadow her."

The Mage Royal nodded. "Let yourself be seen only to prevent Crown treason on her part or to save her life. Otherwise . . . just watch. Unless we've been very lax, none of those twelve is a traitor, but they've all met with Rightful Conspirators recently. I want to see how some of them react if they happen to notice a stranger lurking and watching them. If Narnra does spot you, tell her we decided we were unfairly sending her forth without a proper grounding in our politics—and offer to tell and show her more."

"Of course," the Highknight replied, rising.

"Some of those coins bear tracer-spells?" she asked him, nodding at the door Narnra had left by.

He smiled. "All of them." With a wave of his hand to Laspeera and Caladnei that was more of a salute than a farewell, Glarasteer Rhauligan strode to the nearest wall, did something deft to its paneling, and departed through a secret door neither woman had thought he knew anything about.

"There goes a good man," Laspeera murmured.

The Mage Royal nodded. "Let's hope I don't get him killed," she sighed bitterly. "I ... I truly wish Vangerdahast was still irritating half of Cormyr by ru

Laspeera smiled and hugged Caladnei. "Keep feeling that way and I'll know you're doing a gods-damned good job of being Mage Royal. It's folk who think they're doing just fine because they're so brilliant and masterly at magecraft who scare the backbone out of me!"

* * * * *

Rauthur blinked in surprise and peered in all directions. By the sunlight and the smells, he was still in Suzail—but in some narrow alleyway in the poorer, westerly part of the city, not in a passage outside the Dragonwing Chamber.

"This isn't the Palace!" he protested.

"Indeed it's not," Harnrim Starangh agreed—in the instant before something boiled up inside the War Wizard and blew apart.

"Such a suspicious War Wizard," he murmured as he surveyed the bloody bones and smoke that had been Huldyl Rauthur a moment earlier. "Gone missing just after so many deaths and disruptions at the sanctum—who would have thought he was a traitor? It just goes to show . . ."

He smiled as the plume of bloody smoke wafted away, leaving only a messy pile of dog-gnaw bones for the next cur—or starving citizen of Suzail looking for something to fill a stewpot—to find.

"I'm so sorry, Rauthur," he addressed them. "I fear I may have neglected to mention a few details of that linking spell. Or this other magic, for that matter."

He made a swift gesture. The skull rose, dripping, from the rest of the tangle and floated in the air facing him, cloaked in the very faint, flickering aura of his magic. The spell he'd just cast would preserve the brain behind those now-eyeless sockets long enough for him to read Rauthur's fading mind.

The wizard best known as Darkspells looked up and down the alley to make sure he was unobserved—he'd chosen this narrow, bending way carefully, noting this stretch between two large heaps of rotting, discarded crates some days ago; there was no one coming now to see—and carefully cast yet another spell.

Rauthur's mind was screaming at him.

"Why why why why why?"

"Never leave witnesses and co-conspirators," he replied softly, "and they can never drag you down with them. Trust, my weak friend Rauthur, is a weakness. A fatal weakness."

He bore down on the dying mind, forcing his way in through the shock and pain and tattered memories, seeking first any contingency magics that might be set to awaken against him. He didn't think Rauthur had the power or skill to craft any such magics, nor access to those Vangerdahast undoubtedly commanded.

As he probed deeper, it seemed he'd been right about contingencies . . . but it also appeared Rauthur had really known nothing of much interest, beyond the nicknames of a few fellow War Wizards that might prove briefly useful as lures.

Oh, and one other thing, glowing here in the most recent 'must remember' elements: One Narnra Shalace, currently a guest of the Mage Royal of Cormyr, is the daughter of ... Elminster of Shadowdale.

Starangh's eyes lit up with excitement. "Well, well," he murmured. "Larger fish frying right in my lap."

* * * * *

The doorguard sneered.

"The Lady Joysil will have nothing to do with street beggars," he said curtly. "Be off with you, or I'll summon the Watch!"

The man in dusty, filthy leathers who stood facing him, an obviously false moustache askew on his upper lip, gave him a rather cold glare and said, "Joysil and I have done business together before and parted quite amicably, I might add. Quite amicably. I'd not be here now if I didn't have something urgent and of the gravest importance to impart to her, and I'm not leaving until she's heard it—in private and from my lips alone!"

The doorguard used the bracer on his wrist to rap a small, unseen gong inside the doorframe, and stood his ground.

"And I am not allowing some stranger at this gate who could be any sort of murderer, kidnapper, blackmailer, or common thief to reach the Lady Ambrur alone! I'm paid to see to the safety of her person and property, not allow any swift-tongued rogue in from the streets to wreak whatever havoc whim moves him to!"

"So call the Watch," the man in dusty leathers said softly, "and we'll all go in to see her together. I'll lay you a large wager that she'll be most displeased, when she hears my news, that she has any sort of audience to see her reaction."