Crown of Fire

Ghaubhan gri

"'Fell and mysterious power!' I like that," Gathlarue said softly in the night-gloom. "It has a certain ring…" "It does," Mairara agreed. "This Dread Master is an engaging half-wit all around. Such twisted cruelty… such lame deceits."

"Lame they may be," Gathlarue said, "but it is my hope he does gain the spellfire. Not only will he be straw in our hands, but it will be entertaining to the utmost, watching him destroying most of the Brotherhood as he seeks to master it."

"Fun watching, to be sure," came the reply, "so long as he holds the Zhentarim together long enough to destroy Elminster of Shadowdale first. If we feed this Ramath visions for long enough, our ambitious Dread Master will not dare to start the foolishness too early. I would see Elminster perish soon, and the Brotherhood is the only blade we can wield that seems strong enough to slay him."

'There are others," Gathlarue said softly. "If we could turn the one called the Simbul against him…"

"They love each other strongly now."

"Precisely," Gathlarue said. The slow smile that stole onto her face then made Mairara shiver despite herself. "Precisely… "

Nine

DEATH BEHIND THEE, ITS CLAWS UPON THY SHOULDER

Time is the thief that knows no locks.

Faeranduil of Neverwinter

Sage Sayings of the North Year of Sunset Smoke

"Fare thee well, too, Baera," Mirt said roughly, and then his arms were tightly wrapped around her, squeezing as though by mere strength he could hold onto some part of her afterwards. The fat Harper, looking somehow sleek and striking this morning after her bath, gripped him back just as hard, and they stood locked like two wrestling bears for a long moment.

"Go, then," Baergasra said finally and pushed him away. Her voice was suddenly husky, and her eyes glimmered like the morning dew. "I fear I'll not see you again, Old Wolf." She waved him away sadly. "So go-quickly, all of you; I hate tears. Let me be lonely again."

"Well," Delg said gruffly, "if you took a bath more often, mayhap you'd be lonely less often…"

He ducked under her wild and immediate grab and came ru

"Next time, little man," Baergasra called after him, hands on hips, "I'll have a cake of soap ready for a certain dwarf. Begone, the lot of you!" She snorted, and then waved farewell.

Mirt, shaking his head at Delg, led them over a hill that hid the Wyvern from view behind them, and hid Baergasra with it.

The fat old merchant's shaggy head swung to and fro as they walked on. They all went slowly under the weight of much new-bought food as Mirt peered watchfully at every tree and rise around them. At length his gaze came to rest on Narm. striding along beside Shandril in his customary silence. "Are you well enough?" lie rumbled anxiously. "Any pain?"

Narm gri

"As you were nearly in the past and done yestereve," Delg added meaningfully.

Narm sighed, then raised an eyebrow carefully. "Are you always this cheerful," he asked the dwarf, "or is this sonic sort of special occasion?"

The dwarf shrugged. "I-something's amiss; I feel it in my bones. I’m a little… bladesharp, this morn." He shook himself as a dog shakes off water when climbing out of a pond, and went on down the road.

Mirt rolled his eyes and shook his head but said nothing.

Narm and Shandril exchanged glances. "I have a bad feeling about that," Shandril said softly. “When Delg senses something amiss, he's usually all too right-something goes amiss before the clay is out. So please, Narm… be careful; watch always for danger."

Narin nodded wryly. "What else do I ever watch for since we first met?" He wrapped an arm about her to show he meant no complaint, and added, "I fear you're right, though. I'll keep wary eyes, as best I can."

"If you two can find the will to leave off cuddling for a breath or two," Delg said sourly from ahead, “your mouths -and brains to guide them, too-are needed in a little dispute."

Mirt stood at the roadside. He was looking down at the dwarf rather like a bull wearily regards a small, loud dog. as something not yet worth kicking, but that may soon become so if it continues to a

"As do I," the dwarf replied, unmoved. "The more northerly we tend, the closer we get to the Zhentarim and the lawlessness of the Stonelands where for all we know this Dragon Cult rides freely, too. Short of turning back into the teeth that follow us, this is the worst way we could tread."

Mirt sighed. "Aye, so it may seem. But look ye. Sir Dwarf, and heed-in Suzail, or any port on the I

Delg snorted. "The Stonelands are bandit country, and worse-they hold fearsome beasts and Zhent evil. Enough of both, even you must admit, that the Purple Dragons have never been able to hold Azoun's word as law north of the road that links Arabel with High Horn, let alone to Desert's Edge, where earlier kings of Cormyr always claimed to rule. A land of outlaws, breakneck gullies, little hidden cliff's and thornbushes; it crawls with monsters by night and creeps with them by day. Do you think us a band of sword-swinging heroes, bedecked with magic blades and fancy armor? Or have you such a band up your sleeve-or hidden in that capacious belly of yours?"

Mirt sighed again and spoke with exaggerated gentleness. "I have no quarrel with thy glowing description of the land, nor do I have any swordarms to protect us-save the two that come visibly attached to this belly ye're so impressed with. Yet, look ye, I know of a way not known to those who chase at our heels. A way to save Shandril nearly a season of travel-time on her long way to the North, a way to avoid the roads and i

"So what is this magical way, that I've never heard of it?" the dwarf asked suspiciously, brows bristling. "That's it precisely," Mirt said, lowering his voice. "Magic. That's all I prefer to say."

Delg snorted. "Trust me, then, you're telling us: trust me to lead you into a land of death because I've left some handy, oh-so-reliable magic there, which’ll whisk us away from all danger and leave all our foes and cares behind."

Mirt smiled thinly. "I couldn't have put it much better than that-are ye sure ye don't do a rich trade in dealing horses somewhere in Faerun?" Then he sighed and looked to Narm and Shandril. "Ye've heard Delg, and my words too, about the paths before us. Choose then, whether ye'll follow me. I will say only two things more: first, that the way through Cormyr's roads and cities is almost certain death, where my way offers death not so sure by a long measure; second, that whate'er yet choice, it must be made speedily, for if we stand here debating in the open all day, death will come up behind us and lay claws on our shoulders while yet we speak."