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The Thayan smiled. "Architecture?" The Lady of Haelithtorntowers smiled an almost identical smile. "And other things." "Ah," the wizard said, and sat down in a seat without waiting for an invitation, leaving the two merchants standing uncertainly behind him. "The merchants Aumun Tholant Bezrar and Malakar Surth," Lady Ambrur introduced them, waving them toward seats as she did so. "This is Harnrim 'Darkspells' Starangh, one of the most diplomatic Red Wizards of Thay it has ever been my pleasure to entertain." "And have you entertained many of us, Lady?" Starangh asked softly. The Lady Ambrur smiled again. "Yes, indeed, Darkspells. Szass and I, in particular, are old friends. Very old friends." The Thayan sat as if frozen for an instant then said even more softly, "You must tell me about that some time. Some other time." "Of course. When the time is right, as you say," was the silken reply. Noumea repressed a shiver. How soft and yet sharp with menace the words of both her hostess and the Thayan. She flicked a glance at the two Marsemban merchants and saw in their faces the same tightly masked fear as she knew her own held: not knowing all that was going on here but knowing enough to be certain everything hidden was bad. And dangerous. Darkspells spread his hands. "Have you learned what I desire to know and offered twelve thousand in gold for?" "Twelve thousand six hundred," the Lady Ambrur told her tall-glass demurely. "Twelve thousand six hundred, as you say," the Red Wizard agreed. "Yes. Precisely what Vangerdahast, the retired Mage Royal of Cormyr, is 'up to' in his retirement, precisely where he is, and precisely what his magical defenses are." Starangh smiled softly, his eyes glittering bright and hard, and purred, "If you can give me half an answer to those things, Vangerdahast will stand far closer to his doom the doom he has so richly earned and that I shall take such delight in visiting upon him. Soon." * * * * * This damp, fish-stinking city wasn't Waterdeep, but at least it had walls and rooftops, and she could feel just a bit more like home. Narnra grinned without feeling the slightest bit amused. So here she was running for her life, pursued by some sort of law-agent bent on slaying or capturing her. Oh, yes. Just like home. * * * * * The Queen of Aglarond wrinkled her nose. "Ah, Marsember! Always damp cold stone, colder people, and the everpresent reek of dead fish and human waste. For entertainment, storms rage ashore and intrigues rage behind closed doors." She smiled. "Well, it serves one good purpose: to firmly remind me what I must never let my capital Velprintalar come within the full length of a large kingdom of resembling!" Elminster stroked her bare shoulder then kissed the smooth flesh his fingers had been tracing. "Sorry," he told her. " Tis not my favorite place in all Faerun either, but it happens to be where Caladnei bides at this moment." The Simbul sighed. "Mystra's will be done," she murmured then turned suddenly, caught hold of his beard, and brought his lips to where she could kiss them fiercely. As she always seemed to, she moved hungrily against him, melting into him . . . "Take care of yourself," she whispered when they were both breathless and lack of air finally forced her to draw back. "I waited so long for you don't leave me lonely now." Elminster blinked at her. "Lass? Ye waited for me . . . ?" "To notice and then to love me," she replied, eyes very dark. "For myself and not as one of Mystra's daughters." She shaped a spell that called darkness, outlined by a sprinkling of tiny stars, out of the air in front of her. "I loved your mind for centuries before you knew who I was, Old Mage. Now I love your character, too." She made a face, and added, "Your body, however: that you could have taken better care of, to be sure. Old wreck." Elminster lifted his eyebrows, held up his hands with an airy flourish, murmured a swift incantation and melted into the shape of a tall, broad-shouldered young man [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |
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