Ergluth Rowanmantle went to stand watchfully behind the Summerstar heiress, never taking his eyes off the other diners. He'd been staring at faces intently since Storm's first words, trying to catch sight of a suspicious reaction. Of course, he reflected grimly, he couldn't watch the absent Thalance.
The stout, bewhiskered boldshield loomed like a mountain over Shayna. His eyes were cold as his gaze met the shocked, angry glares of Erlandar and Pheirauze Summerstar. His hairy, muscular arms were crossed in front of his chest-but the fingers of one hand rested on the haft of his mace of office. The fingers of the other were on the pommel of the heavy broadsword he wore. "Where is Thalance?" he asked quietly.
Pheirauze flushed crimson. "How dare you imply-" she began, voice rising in a magnificently trembling cry of outrage.
"I imply nothing, Dowager Lady," Ergluth rumbled, drowning out her words without seeming to raise his voice in the slightest. "I leave such subtle nonsense to those who have the leisure for it-such as the nobility of Cormyr. I ask a simple question, in the king's name, and expect a clear and swift answer of you: where is Thalance?"
"I–I know not," Pheirauze snapped, blinking. "I'm not the lad's keeper!"
"Lucky him," someone among the war wizards murmured quite clearly.
The boldshield turned and snapped, "Find Thalance Summerstar at once! Guard him, hold him in one place in the name of the king, and report back!"
"Sir!" the Purple Dragons by the door chorused. They rushed out, leaving only two of their number behind, standing on either side of the door. For the first time, the Summerstars noticed that these guards were hefting loaded and ready slings, and looking alertly at all the diners.
The war wizards were beginning to look scared now. Neither Storm nor Ergluth were surprised when Broglan Sarmyn suddenly rose and leaned forward, fingertips on the table and face contemptuous. "Threatening nobles in their own home is hardly prudent-and never polite. If a man lies dead in a bedchamber, who better to ask how he got there than the occupant of that room? Boldshield, the outlander among us is one of the folk we wizards of war are taught to beware-one of the bringers of trouble we're charged with keeping the realm clear of. If anyone is to answer questions about murders, let it be her!"
Silence was his only reply. He turned to glare at the Purple Dragon commander. "To answer your question: I saw Thalance rise and leave, not long ago, and have no trace of an idea as to his whereabouts now. But I have a question for you: was there a Harper pin on or beside the Seneschal's body?"
"There was not, Sir Broglan of Sevensash," Ergluth replied curtly, his eyes more like the keen gaze of an eagle than ever, "and what if there had been? I know of over two hundred Harpers who've perished in Cormyr in the past decade … yes, in this 'safe,' loyal, law-abiding realm." He put one of his great battered hands down on the back of Shayna's chair, seeming not to notice her staring wide-eyed up at him, and leaned forward to fix the leader of the war wizards with a gaze that had grown dark and stony.
"Now," he continued heavily, "how many wandering Harper pins do you think their deaths have produced? Have you ever heard of a Harper marking a corpse as some sort of 'Harper kill' by leaving a pin behind? I've not-and yet why do we stand here debating such things? We've a Harper in our midst. If you suspect this leaving of pins might be a Harper tactic, why don't you ask her?"
The power of his words was such that even Pheirauze looked to Storm.
She kept her eyes on Broglan's as she told them all, "No Harper, so far as I know, has ever put a badge on a dead person except as mark of honor for the deceased, when the dead person is a Harper. And to answer the question you've not dared ask, Sir Wizard: I've not, within any of your lifetimes, slain anyone in this keep. . yet."
There was a stirring. Not even Erlandar quite dared to contest what some of them held to be empty and overblown legend: that the lady standing before them, or any of the Seven Sisters for that matter, had really lived any longer than other folk. They used potions to appear youthful long after age should have stolen their teeth and sleek agility, as many a wizard did… surely no more.
Storm looked a wintry challenge at Erlandar, but when he said nothing, she continued crisply, "I've heard something of what Lord Athlan's body looked like-and that of the wizard Dlaerlin, too-"
Broglan Sarmyn's head snapped up and his eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. Storm brought her gaze to meet his as she continued.
"— and I've never seen anything quite like the. . wounds left behind by whatever or whoever is doing the slaying. You'd all best be very wary. Not only do you stand in personal danger, but if the cause of these deaths gets out of the keep, Cormyr-and all civilized lands-could well be doomed."
Storm turned back to Broglan. "I want to examine Athlan Summerstar's body," she said quietly. "Now."
Broglan seemed about to refuse, but the boldshield raised a hand and pointed warningly at him, and he shrugged and said, "The Lord Summerstar was burned upon the orders of Lady Pheirauze. Given the manner of his death, her wishes seemed only prudent. All we have left of him is a handful of ashes."
"Take me to that handful," Storm said quietly.
Broglan bowed his head, gathered the other war wizards with glances, and left the table. He headed at an even pace for one of the doors of the hall. The bold-shield followed.
Storm paused only long enough to say to Shayna, "My deep apologies for disturbing the peace of your hall so often this even, gracious lady. The viands, and your care and kindness in the offering of them, are appreciated."
She sketched a bow. The startled heiress returned it. Without another word, Storm turned and went after the boldshield. Cold and thoughtful Summerstar eyes watched them go.
In the passage beyond the feast hall, the ring of war wizards closed in around Storm and the Purple Dragon. Ergluth Rowanmantle raised his hand in a signal, and there were suddenly Purple Dragon arms-men everywhere, melting out of the gloom along the walls to form an outer ring of watchful warriors around them all.
Storm smiled tightly as the war wizards collectively stiffened. "What is the meaning of this?" Broglan snapped, but he sounded more weary than surprised.,
"That's what we're trying to discover, mage," Ergluth explained with hearty patience as they strode on into the darkness. "That's what we're all trying to discover."
The leader of the war wizards didn't bother to reply. He led the way in stony silence. Down a musty stair they went, and across a hall lit only by the faint blue radiance that surrounded an old statue of a Summerstar lord. Another stair led down from that hall, turning several times, into a dank and deserted lower level. This was not the way the boldshield knew, and his eyes were narrow with suspicion before the doors of the Summerstar crypt came into view ahead.
Broglan Sarmyn turned to Storm and said, "Lady Silverhand, beyond these sealed doors lie the fallen who have borne the name Summerstar down long and proud centuries. I've never been inside it, but I must remind you and Lord Rowanmantle that the seal was put there by a local priest for a good reason: it keeps undeath in, as well as thieves who fear such walking dooms out. I do not recommend-"
What the wizard chose not to recommend, they never learned. At that moment, a silent blue-white pale figure rose up behind him and reached down long, clawed hands to rake Broglan's face and throat.
Those talons were like smoke. The startled wizard's face shone through them as he stammered out a spell.
At the same moment, Storm felt a terrible cold slice through her from behind. A man's voice by her shoulder hissed, "Stop, it, witch! End your spell, or my next thrust will be through your heart!"