"That's not much of a choice to hand me-or anyone-is it?" Narnra snapped bitterly, anger rising in her to roll back the fear … a little. "Do as I say, or I'll blast you to ashes or leave you forever drooling. How can you trust any 'truth' handed you under such menace?"
The old wizard shrugged. " 'Tis the same cruel choice most folk of power in this world hand to everyone else. Ye seem a bit too old, lass-especially considering the nature of thy nightly trade-to yet believe Faerun is a fair place. If ye truly do, ye're already a drooling idiot, whether ye admit it or not. I simply make choices blunter and clearer than many when I'm not in the mood for wasting overmuch time on tongue-fencing or frivolity. I'm not in the mood right now. I like Cormyr and have seen so many of these idiot rebellions in the making: the 'making' always seems to involve the deaths of many good and even some innocent folk. As to how I can trust thy truths, my magic will tell me when ye lie and when ye speak true."
"And that's supposed to make me willing and obedient?" Narnra snarled.
"Nay, but a hope to survive this night should. 'Prudence,' I believe 'tis still called. Ye came back down here seeking my gate and a way home out of all this, did ye not? I'm the only way through it ye know, am I not? I'll be a trifle more willing to be helpful to someone who tried to rob and slay me in a dead-end alley not so long ago if she now tries to deal with me in at least a civil manner, will I not?"
The Waterdhavian lass drew in a deep, defeated breath. Despairing yet still furious, she sighed, took another shuddering gulp of air, and growled, "So ask your questions. I'll try to keep to the truth."
"Prudent," the wizard agreed calmly. "If, that is, ye wish to keep me to truth-reading and not mind-forcing ye, as I started to do to Thauvas, there. He learned wisdom quickly."
Narnra tossed her head. "Ask," she repeated quietly, hanging helpless in midair.
The mists around her glowed with sudden light, a flash of radiance that died away as abruptly as it had come.
Her captor turned his head quickly to look out into the darkness. "Caladnei, please just watch and listen and pretend ye're not here for a bit, eh? Vangerdahast will be most annoyed with me if I destroy his replacement without good cause-and ye may as well know now that thy reckless testing of my shield-spells is doomed to fail."
From the darkness came only silence, but after a long, motionless time the old bearded mage added quietly, "Thank ye."
He turned his head to look up at Narnra and asked, "Thy full, proper name, lass, is-?"
Gods, his nose is an even sharper hawk-beak than mine. Narnra looked down into those bright blue eyes-more blue than gray now, as his magic surged around them-and said steadily, "Narnra Shalace. My mother was Maerjanthra Shalace, a jeweler of Waterdeep. My father I never knew."
Bushy brows arched. "Maerjanthra, eh? I knew a Maerjanthra Shalace of Waterdeep, years back-a sorceress for hire, not a jeweler." He regarded his floating captive thoughtfully. " 'Tis not a common name. Describe her, as she is today."
Narnra let him see her fury as she spat, "A few bones, some dust, and probably a tangle of what's left of her hair-in a bonepit outside the walls of Waterdeep. She's dead, wizard."
The old wizard's face was unreadable. "I see. Yet in life, she had dark hair and eyes like thine?"
"Yes," Narnra said flatly, volunteering nothing more.
"How did she die?"
"I don't know. Murdered with magic, I think, but by whom, I've no idea-or they or I would be dead now."
"I see. Have ye kin?"
"No. Unless my father yet lives."
"And what know ye of him?"
The thief shrugged. "He was a man. A powerful wizard, I was told."
"By whom?"
"My mother's apprentices-gemcutters, all long fled. They were drunk when they said that."
"Mother dead, apprentices fled-where d'ye live now?"
Narnra shrugged. "The rooftops. By the warm chimneys in winter. The City of the Dead, mostly, in summer."
"Alone?"
"Alone."
"And ye earn coins enough to eat by-?"
"Stealing. As you know."
"For or with anyone?"
"Alone."
"Any friends?"
"No."
"Folk ye sell stolen things to?"
"Many."
"Name some of them."
Narnra stared into the old wizard's eyes and said evenly, "Dock Ward holds many men who ask no questions about where something came from-and take care that they know nothing about whoever's selling it. If the Watch confronts them, they always say they just found it, tossed into their yard-or window-that morning. In turn, I take care not to ask or know their names. "Tis the accepted way of such business dealings."
The mage nodded, as if remembering things far away and long ago. "Truth rides on thy tongue well."
"So reward me."
"With?"
"My freedom. The way back."
The old wizard smiled. "High payment for a few civil answers. I'll have more before we advance so boldly into rewarding, hmm?"
Narnra shrugged again. "The power to dictate," she observed flatly, "remains yours."
The wizard below her grew a sudden grin, and from beyond the mists came a faint, swiftly suppressed sound that might have been a Mage Royal's chuckle.
"Are ye a member of any guild?"
"No."
"On any rolls?"
"No."
"Pay taxes?"
Narnra made an incredulous sound. The old wizard grinned again and asked, "D'ye know who I am?"
"No. I can see and hear that you're an old man and a powerful mage, yes, but no more."
The old wizard nodded, strolled a few paces away, spun around, and snapped, "What do ye do with thy days?"
"Steal. Sleep. Spy on folk to steal from. Steal. Sell what I've gained and use the coins to buy food. Eat. Flee the Watch. Steal some more."
"What happened to your mother's shop? House? Goods?"
"Snatched, seized, and spirited away, the moment the city knew she was dead, thank you for asking," Narnra said coldly. "Some slave-seeking noble sent his men after me."
The wizard nodded slowly. "I find myself unsurprised."
The mists suddenly boiled up into a gigantic, looming serpentine head, all scales and great jaws, parting to menace her-
Narnra screamed-and so did the Mage Royal.
The world burst into blinding brightness in a great roaring flood of force that swept the dragon head away and the Silken Shadow after it, tumbling end over end unseeing into-surging flows of power that caught and clung and held her, drawing her down out of roiling chaos into . . . hanging upright in midair once more.
The mists churned and whirled around her with more force than before, trailing sparks here and there, but otherwise, the cellar was much as before-except that the senseless Red Wizard now floated head-downwards.
The old wizard was standing just as before, but his gaze was now bent on the cellar entrance arch. "I did warn ye, Mage Royal," he said quietly. "Know ye not an illusion when ye see one?"
Narnra found that she could turn her head and did so. Caladnei was on her knees, struggling against what looked like ropes of crawling fire that held her wrists down and away from her sides, looped around her neck, and snarled around her spread knees and her ankles behind her.
"Will ye stand peaceful, and work no magic?" the old wizard demanded.
The Mage Royal of Cormyr glared up at him over the crackling flames and said flatly, 'Wo."
The wizard shrugged and turned back to Narnra-and in a chilling, throat-choking moment the dragon head loomed in front of her once more.
She knew what it was now and managed to keep from screaming but could not help staring at it, trembling, as those great jaws yawned once more. . . .
"Lass, did ye ever see anything like this before now?" the white-bearded wizard asked gently, from below.