She started for the bed, automatically reaching to roll her sleeves back out of the way. She chuckled a trifle harshly: dressed like this, she didn't have any sleeves….
SEVEN
Dark and savage rage was rising in Broglan Sarmyn as he stalked up to the closed door of Storm's bedchamber.
Murndal had never returned to the study.
It was early indeed for insistent servants to be rousing Broglan from the chair where he'd finally fallen asleep, waiting for the young wizard's report. They rushed him down chilly corridors, heedless of his stiff, aching limbs and urgent need to relieve himself. All of it was at the behest of a shameless outlander Harper who hid her insolence behind the title of Chosen of Mystra! Hah! He could style himself First Prophet of Azuth if he'd happened to have so brazen an ego, and take on the same airs….
He was a dozen angry paces from Storm's door and the expressionless Purple Dragons flanking it when a shadow stepped away from the wall in front of him.
With a start, he recognized Ergluth Rowanmantle, the boldshield of Northtrees March.
"What is this-a court meeting?" Broglan snapped. "This had better be worth rousing me at this hour." Close on the heels of his words came the faint cry of a rooster from the vale beyond the keep walls. "Bloody Harpers," the wizard added-and of course, the bedchamber door in front of both men swung open at that moment.
"A favorite expression of mine, too," Storm agreed mildly, waving at them to enter. She wore a fine court gown, complete with earrings to outdazzle those of the old Summerstar aunts. A pectoral flashed and gleamed all down the low front where her gown was cut away.
Broglan found himself looking where that pectoral was designed to make him look. He harrumphed and fixed a gimlet eye on the Bard of Shadowdale. "You summoned me, Lady Silverhand?"
"Both of you, actually," Storm told him calmly. "You'll find the reason why in the bed there. Lord Rowanmantle, if you'd be so kind?"
Ergluth gave her the weary look of a man who knows just what unpleasant thing is coming. With one hand, he turned back the bedclothes. Murndal Claeron lay on his back, spread-eagled on the linens, his head dark, burned out, and hollow.
Broglan stared, openmouthed, and found no words to say. Empty, sightless eye sockets stared up at him, and the mouth was a similar gaping void. Something with talons had shredded the enchanted cloak, but he could see no sign of the false scepter.
"Suppose you tell us," the boldshield said, after a swift glance at the white-faced leader of the war wizards, "just how this mage came to be here."
"I'd also like to know that," Storm replied. "Whoever sent this unfortunate to me in the wee hours-he appeared in midair, and fell right on top of me-must be familiar with a spell unknown to me: magic that can teleport the dead."
Broglan made a wordless sound of denial and disbelief
"He was on a mission for you?" Storm asked quietly. "Where was he going when he left your study?"
They waited, but Broglan merely shook his bowed head and covered his eyes. The boldshield made a certain gesture; his men withdrew and closed the door, leaving the three of them alone in the bedchamber with the sprawled corpse.
"All the younger magelings found it necessary to go and do urgent things at the same time yestereve," Ergluth said grimly. "No doubt their scurrying was to achieve one purpose: allowing this luckless boy his chance to slip away unseen. Where did he go, Broglan?"
The war wizard shook his head again.
"He went into the Haunted Tower, didn't he?" Storm asked quietly.
Broglan's head snapped up; his eyes were wild. "No!"
"He may have been heading elsewhere " Storm continued relentlessly, "but to get there he had to avoid Ergluth's guard posts. And to do that, he got himself into the dark ways where he could travel unhindered." She sighed. "He was heading for the crypt, wasn't he?"
Broglan said nothing, but they could tell from his sudden stillness that she'd hit upon the truth.
Storm shook her head. "Well, another wizard is dead, and can tell us nothing." She walked away from the bedside, adding, "I doubt he can be restored, short of direct divine intercession…Mystra doesn't tend to do such things even for great mages, to say nothing of ambitious novices. He's gone."
She turned to face them both, and asked with exasperation, "Sir Broglan, isn't it about tim e we started to work together? While you indulge in your little plots and secrets, your magelings go on dying. I can't fight to protect someone I don't know is out there, roaming the keep like a thief."
That stung. Broglan's head jerked around to face her fully, and his eyes blazed. Still he kept silent. The Purple Dragon commander put his hand on the hilt of his sword, took a slow step away, and turned to watch the wizard narrowly.
"I worked on Murndal's body most of the night," Storm said, "trying to learn something-anything-from it. His cloak bore magic before someone-our slayer, no doubt-tore it to ribbons, and he carried the usual components for spellcasting. His boots say he walked in dusty places, and he tried to defend himself with a dagger that's gone, now … and that's about all he can still tell us."
"Shall I order the scouring of the Haunted Tower?" Ergluth asked.
Storm shook her head. "From what I've seen, our murderer would not be found. . and could roam the keep while your armsmen were searching the tower. It is a place with its own phantoms, and thus would give chances for them to mistakenly hurt each other. You were going to issue crossbows, were you not?" Ergluth nodded silently, and she shook her head. "A recipe for disaster," she told him, "though I admit I haven't thought of anything much better."
"So you have no counsel for us?" the boldshield asked.
Storm spread her hands. "I'd like to cast some silent watch spells on you and your senior officers, and on Broglan and all of his war wizards."
Ergluth raised an eyebrow. "And just what do 'silent watch' spells do?"
"Allow me to see out of the eyes of anyone I cast it on, for about a twelve-count, when they call my name aloud," the bard told him. "Once only, and only if they call desiring to summon me, not if they merely say my name in normal converse."
Ergluth nodded. "This seems wise," he said. "Will it take you to the person calling on you?"
Storm shook her head. "I'm afraid not," she said. "If they look around, I may be able to see enough of their surroundings to teleport to them. Otherwise, it at least lets me see who's attacking them."
"You don't sound all that hopeful," the Purple Dragon commented.
Storm gestured to the bed. "What length talons did that? I think we're dealing with a shapeshifter."
"A Mai. . Malinaug-er, Malaugrym?" Ergluth asked, stumbling over the unfamiliar word.
The bard shrugged. "I can't tell that yet, one way or the other." Her eyes went to the war wizard. "Well, Broglan? What say you?"
"To your spell? No. Absolutely not," the mage replied. "No war wizard of Cormyr dares allow someone else to spy on him!"
"Ah," Storm said, "but it's quite all right for you to spy-to use your word-on others?"
"What d'you mean?" Broglan snarled, eyes afire again.
Storm waved a hand at the man-high oval mirror on the wall, its frame still bristling with daggers. "Which of your men was watching me last night? Did he like what he saw?"
Broglan flushed scarlet. "Madam," he began icily, "I assure you-"
"I doubt you can in truth assure me of anything," Storm said quietly. "Yet it is not my purpose to humiliate anyone or argue; I merely want us all to be better protected by working together. What can I promise, or do, to make your 'absolutely not' become a 'yes'?"
"I-nothing," Broglan said heavily. "I must protect my men and myself against possible treachery. If Lord Vangerdahast ever heard of my allowing a possibly hostile outlander to gain any magical influence-or even potential influence-over a war wizard …"