As he approached the steps that led up to the front doors, they opened, and Giogi Wyvernspur stepped out, resplendent in fawn-colored leather breeches, a purple shirt with cloth-of-gold sash and half-cloak, and a pair of old, battered, comfortable-looking brown boots. Vangerdahast sighed with relief, just whom he’d wanted to see. Now there wouldn’t be a hour wasted on challenges and servants’ questions and little lads goggling in awe at the mightiest wizard in the land…
Giogi sniffed the air, smiled happily, and glanced about, nearly falling off the doorstep in surprise when he saw the old bearded man in plain robes looking up at him from a few steps away.
“Gods! What-I mean, heigh-ho, Vangy-ah, Lord High Wizard,” he said with a grin. “How’s the ruling-Cormyr-from-behind-the-throne business these days?
“That’s what I’ve come to talk to you about,” Vangerdahast said gravely, taking the noble by the arm. “Do you still have some of those silly stone benches about?”
Giogi sighed. “This sounds serious. You’re going to talk a bit, aren’t you?” He pointed and sighed again. “Over here.”
They sat, and the Royal Magician said quickly, “You may or may not have heard that Duke Bhereu is dead, Baron Thomdor hangs on the edge of his grave, and the king is gravely ill and expected to die, too. Rest assured that this much, at least, is the truth.”
Giogi grew somber at once. “We had, heard rumors, even out in the countryside, but no details. How?”
“A hunting accident, involving possible treason,” Vangerdahast said grimly, “which we haven’t yet gotten to the bottom of. I’ll tell you more later, but first I must tell you why I’m here.”
Giogi was still gasping like a fish on the Immersea docks. “Ah-uh-“
“For the good of the realm,” Vangerdahast said gravely, “I think I must assume the title of regent at this time. Filfaeril’s out of her head with grief, Alusair’s nowhere to be found, and Crown Princess Tanalasta is head over heels in love with a grasping young noble who’d love to tell her what decisions to make for the realm. Unfortunately, she wants to do more crying than ruling, so I feel I must rule from the foot of the throne for a time.”
Giogi’s eyes narrowed. “And so-?”
“And so I need to know who will support me as regent-in particular, if Princess Tanalasta or a large group of nobles says I should not be or presents rival temporary rulers for our land. If Vangerdahast declares himself regent, will I have the support of the Wyvernspurs?”
Silence fell. Giogi cleared his throat finally and said, “Uh, well, this is all so sudden-“
“That’s more or less what Tanalasta’s been saying, as the days pass,” Vangerdahast said dryly. “I need to know, Giogioni, and I need to know soon. Where do the Wyvernspurs stand?”
“Uh-hah! Well,” Giogi said, floundering, and stood up to pace. His hand drifted to his sword, and he suddenly looked down at the old wizard, his hand on his hilt, and asked sharply, “So Thomdor’s still alive? The king lives too?”
“Yes and yes,” the Royal Magician replied, nodding.
“And Princess Alusair-she’s on a foray up in the Stonelands, isn’t she? Have you sent her a message?”
“I have,” Vangerdahast confirmed. “Why do you ask?”
“I can’t speak for my kin until I have enough answers to give so I don’t appear a complete fool,” Giogi replied. “So what did Alusair say?”
“There has been no reply,” Vangerdahast said gravely. The Wyvernspur frowned. “There’s something you’re not telling me about this… What is it?”
Vangerdahast’s brows drew together in a frown. “Many nobles of Cormyr-folk of good families, with reputations for honor that go back generations-have gladly given their support for my regency without demanding answers to a lot of pressing questions.”
He stood up slowly, a glint in his eye. “If you don’t feel you can support me, say so-but if you want Cormyr to be a friendly home for you and yours in the future, perhaps you’d best get on the boat, or it just might sail away without you.”
Giogi’s slim, jewel-pommeled rapier slid out of its scabbard. “The Wyvernspurs-so far as I can recall, right now-have always been loyal to the crown,” he said coldly, “and that’s not going to change while I stand ready to defend the realm. I challenge you, wizard, in the name of Azoun, rightful King of Cormyr! I shall fight you here and now unless you promise you’ll do everything in your power to keep the king alive-and if you fail, you’ll then support an Obarskyr to assume the throne and obey her as loyally and as diligently as you did her father!”
The old man in robes looked up at him with disgust on his face. “Do all you young idiots keep your brains in those slim scabbards? What good will challenging me do? I’m not in the habit of making promises under threat, and if you believe anyone will keep such promises, you are the fool you’ve so often been labeled.” He matched the angry nobleman’s swordsman’s stance, empty-handed, and added, “Besides-I fight with spells, not swords.”
Sudden radiance flickered around one of the Royal Magician’s arms, flowing up and down it like racing flames.
Giogi gulped, threw his sword behind him, and suddenly became a rising, shifting thing of red scales. His sleepy eyes became large and golden, and his arms began to meld into wings. The gift of the Wyvernspurs, sometimes called their curse as well, was the ability to transform into the winged dragonlike beast they took their name from. For all his apparent foolishness, young Lord Wyvernspur knew what he could do in wyvern form.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Vangerdahast said levelly. “Let’s not play at battling old mages this afternoon, thank you!”
The flowing radiance on his arm raced down into his sleeve and touched a wand that hung half-concealed there. The wand flashed, shuddered, and spat forth a stream of eerie golden-green light that swirled around the rapidly growing form of the wyvern, and suddenly there was another blurring and a strange singing sound, and Giogioni Wyvernspur stood in his own form once more, blinking at the Royal Magician.
“Before this continues and one of us does something extremely foolish or gets hurt,” Vangerdahast said, “I’d best-“
The Lord High Wizard of Cormyr was not young and had seen his share of spell battles. Moreover, he was very quick and expecting trouble. It never seemed to take him too long to find it. Wherefore when he heard the first whispered syllable from up the steps and off to his right, he willed his ready spell shield to coalesce.
The spell that should have hurled him clear out through the front gates of Redstone Castle instead struck the mystic shield and simply washed over the wizard in flickering, impotent streamers of radiance, then faded into the air.
“Well met, Cat,” he said calmly, turning from the dazed Giogi to face the furious copper-haired woman at the castle door. “I’ve just been talking to your Giogioni, here.”
“Talk?” Cat snapped, her green eyes blazing. Gods, but she was beautiful, the old wizard thought. Was he himself the only homely male who wove spells in this kingdom? “Is that how the Royal Magician talks to people?”
Vangerdahast made a gesture, and Giogi’s rapier flew smoothly up to its owner’s hand. Still looking dazed and shocked, Giogi slid it back into its scabbard. The old wizard nodded. “Good. I hate trying to talk to folk who are trying to kill me.”
“What is this all about, lord wizard?” Cat demanded, hands on hips now. “You come here and attack my Giogi right on his own front steps…”
Vangerdahast held up a hand to halt her angry torrent. “Please desist. Accept my apologies. You have every right to be furious. The Lord High Wizard of the realm humbles himself before you.”
“But not too much,” Giogi added, managing a smile. The old wizard’s face split in an answering grin-his first real one that day, as it happened-as he clapped the noble on his shoulder and urged him up the steps to the waiting, still-angry Cat.