"I'm Thaerabho," he said with a smile, "and my field is the doings of those who wield magic in Faerun outside temples and priesthoods. You've heard of the Chosen of Mystra?"
Noumea nodded eagerly, and Thaerabho's smile broadened.
"Then let me share this much: Some among them have been working against the Red Wizards in a lovely manner. With spells they 'twist' many of the portals established by the Thayans in their enclaves so those who use such translocations can have spells stolen from their minds en route, suggestions planted, memories and information 'read,' and so on."
"Sweet Mystra," Noumea whispered, genuinely awed.
Thaerabho nodded. "If the Thayans ever grow too strong in a particular place, if I may speak cynically, the portal in that spot-or all of them, along with, of course, whoever's using them at the time-could explode. Or perhaps a suggestion planted in the heads of all mages who've ever used one of the Thayan portals could be awakened, all at once, all over Faerun … a suggestion, say, to rush to a particular Thayan city and attack Szass Tarn or some other zulkir there, before he accomplishes some dread goal that will sacrifice them."
Noumea shook her head and asked softly, "What if I am of Thay or of the Chosen and want no one in Faerun to suspect any of this?"
The monk whose nose was almost brushing her own replied, "No, Lady Noumea Cardellith, you are of neither-and are not a Harper, either. You're but a seeker after knowledge, and we arm all who come here with the weapons of fact and lore and reason-sorted rumor. What they do with such tools after they depart is not our affair. We but seek to arm those wise-or cunning- enough to come asking and looking."
"Who are you?" a shaken Noumea whispered.
The ring of monks smiled.
"Simple folk of Faerun who love old books, and learning, and reading the thoughts and hopes and records of beings now dust," Esmer replied.
Noumea looked around at them all and shook her head. "I think you're among the most powerful and dangerous forces on all Toril."
The monks stopped smiling.
"That, too," Thaerabho agreed lightly. "Knowing that, what will you do now, Lady Noumea Cardellith, sometime mage and unhappy wife?" More monks were in the reading-room now, drifting toward her from all sides.
Noumea stared at him for a long time, ignoring the silent assembly of monks and the rods some of them held ready then lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "I … don't know."
The ring-wall of monks seemed to relax, and a few drifted away again. Thaerabho's smile returned.
"Ah, the truth. The right answer to give us, always."
Noumea stared into his hazel eyes for a long time then drew in a deep breath and asked, "What do you think I should do?"
"Ah," the sword-scarred monk responded eagerly, as several of the closest monks drew in around her again, reaching in under the great reading-desk to unclip folded wooden stools from its underside, and sitting down on them. "Now you've done the next right thing. We'll not tell you what to do next. We never do. We shall, however, tell you all we can to help you decide where to go from here in life."
Lady Noumea blinked at him. "Why didn't I come here years ago?"
"Why indeed?"
* * * * *
As the guards swung the great doors open for her, the Mage Royal of Cormyr looked in and up at the carved stone dragons frozen forever in the act of erupting from the ceiling of the room ahead of her. The scene was as magnificent as always, all scales, surging strength, and great sweeping curves of wings, catlike and serpentine both at once.
She found herself on the verge of tears again, and almost fondly muttered, "Damn you, Old Mage," as she entered the Dragonwing Chamber alone.
Three people stood in the center of its vast, empty polished floor awaiting her: Laspeera, Rhauligan, and the thief who'd fled from the cellars, captured at last. Narna Shalace.
Rhauligan was shrugging himself back into his vest, his belt still unbuckled at his waist. Caladnei smiled thinly. She must have led him a merry chase. The spell-thrall holding her now would be Speera's work.
She gave Laspeera and Rhauligan nods of thanks and approached their paralyzed but unbound captive, banishing Laspeera's magic as she came. "So we meet again, Narnra of Waterdeep," she began pleasantly.
The thief, who'd bent over to busily rub hands and ankles, shaking out her limbs as if her body felt unfamiliar to her, did not reply.
"Narnra," Caladnei continued, "you stand in the Palace of the Purple Dragon in Suzail, in the realm of Cormyr. As such, you're utterly within my power. Should not mere prudence lead you to some measure of polite cooperation, whatever your personal feelings toward us?"
The thief straightened up to give Caladnei a cold, considering look then glanced over at Laspeera and Rhauligan. They gazed patiently back at her, faces impassive.
Narnra tossed her head and glared at Caladnei. "You have an audience for your grand speeches," she said, nodding at the man who'd captured her and the woman whose spell had paralyzed her. "What d'you want of me?"
"Answers. A few civil, honest, and generous-with-what-you-know answers," the Mage Royal replied.
Narnra sighed. "I can't think what precious things I might know that could possibly be of any use to you. You're not planning to become the terror of purses in Trades Ward, are you?"
"No," Caladnei replied in a dry voice. "There! You see? An answer, and so easily and swiftly given, too. Try it for a short time, do well at it-and you'll be free to go."
"Go where?" Narnra snarled. "Out into the streets of your city, to starve? Or be pounced on by the next of your soldiers who doesn't like the look of me? 'Oh, sir, I'm just a thief from Water-deep-that's right, a thief-and I've just been talking with your Mage Royal, and she'-oh, aye, I'm sure they'll believe me!"
"Do you love Waterdeep so much?"
"What? Is this one of your questions? Could you not have found a traveling merchant, and ask-"
"Do you love Waterdeep so much?"
Narnra flung up her hands. "I know Waterdeep," she snarled. " 'Tis my home, the only place I know, where I know how to get something to eat, where . . ."
She fell silent, eyes narrowing.
Caladnei was smiling. "You see? Honest answers are not so hard, once you begin. Do it twice or thrice, and you'll have found the habit."
Narnra gave her a dark look and hugged herself as if she were cold. "Wizards are so clever," she muttered. "I sometimes wonder how better off we'd all be without them."
That earned her wry smiles from all three Cormyreans, and Caladnei's voice was almost gentle as she asked, "Have you many friends in Waterdeep, with whom you talk? Share gossip with?"
Narnra hunched her head down and said nothing.
The Mage Royal frowned. "Enough of this," she murmured. '"Time-and past time-for enforced truth." She muttered an incantation and traced a pattern with her fingertips.
There was a sudden flash of blue-white fire, and she drew her head back as if burned. "She's protected," Caladnei murmured, and cast a glance at Laspeera.
Who shrugged and asked softly, "Elminster?" as she raised her own hands and worked the same spell.
Seven blue-white stars flashed and spun very briefly around the young Waterdhavian, who seemed in a trance.
"Mystra," the Mage Royal whispered and looked at Laspeera again, almost helplessly this time.
The older War Wizard gave her another shrug. "So try the hard way, Gala. We can only try spells as they seem necessary . . . and see."
Caladnei nodded unhappily, drew in a deep breath, glanced at Rhauligan-who smiled grimly and gave her a nod of approval, and asked, "Narnra? How do you hear the news merchants bring, when they come to Waterdeep in their caravans? Do local wits cry news aloud in taverns in return for coins?"