He strode to the door, and then turned and snapped grimly, "Insprin, inform the seneschal and the boldshield about Lhansig's. . demise. Have the Purple Dragons search the Haunted Tower. I'll go to farspeak the royal magician."
THREE
The wards flickered one last time before settling down to a steady glow. Satisfied, Broglan Sarmyn seated himself at the table, sighed, and unwrapped the bundle he'd laid there. Black velvet unfolded into a circle with a diamond-shaped cushion at its center. On its puffed softness lay a flat-bottomed but spherical chunk of glossy black obsidian as large as Broglan's fist.
He took a deep breath, glanced around the room warily, and tapped the stone with a finger, murmuring a certain word under his breath.
The stone quivered and slowly lifted away from its cushion, wavering up into the air to hang above the table at about the level of Broglan's nose.
Broglan stared at it less than happily, the worry lines on his forehead deep again, and said, "Broglan Sarmyn, speaking from Firefall Keep. Lord High Wizard?"
"I hear you," the royal magician's voice rasped from the stone. It sounded sharp-but then, through speaking stones, it always did. "What news?"
"One of my team has been slain, presumably by the same creature or magical attack that killed the Lord Summerstar and the Harper agent," Broglan said heavily. "Lhansig Dlaerlin is no more-and we're no wiser as to how it was done. A Harper pin was left on his chest for us to find, and the body was arranged in such a way to mock us."
"Burned out, and barred to all magic, as before?"
"Aye." It was a measure of how upset Broglan Sarmyn was that he forgot to use any of Vangerdahast's titles. His next words made that agitation very clear. "What should I do?"
The stone turned slowly in the air and emitted a sound that might have been a sigh. "I can't spare the time just now to investigate," the distant Vangerdahast said bluntly, "and I'm leaving this in your capable hands. I realize this is something that could kill you all-and baffle Laspeera, myself, Elminster, and every last one of his ex-apprentices, for all I know. I won't tell you anything grandly foolish about knowing you'll pull through, and such nonsense. Just do the best you can, Broglan. If you have to flee from the place or bring Firefall Keep crashing down, do so. Try to stop short of butchering the entire Summerstar clan, if at all possible."
"I–I'm heartened to know that you understand," Broglan said hesitantly. "I have just two more questions. Firstly, how far can I trust the local boldshield, Ergluth Rowanmantle?"
"Absolutely, so long as you do nothing he sees as a threat to the realm. The man is loyal through and through, and is far more. . perceptive than most Purple Dragon commanders. Next question."
Broglan took a deep breath-this was it, there was no ducking the matter now-and plunged right in. "It looks like we're going to have a senior Harper who also happens to be of the Seven Sisters on our hands, here, any moment now. Storm Silverhand is named prominently in Athlan Summerstar's will."
"Did he deed the vale to her, or just the keep?"
"Neither-quite," Broglan replied. "There's nothing that diminishes the authority of the crown of Cormyr. . but she is guaranteed freedom to arrive, leave, dwell, and hunt in the vale as she pleases, unless or until a subsequent royal decree deems otherwise. I think Athlan was aiming to protect his lands and kin by surrounding them with a Harper training facility, if anything happened to him."
"You think he knew he was going to die soon," Vangerdahast asked, "and specifically how, or at whose hand?"
"It's impossible to say. It feels like he was just being cautious-unusually cautious, for one so young."
"Indeed," the royal magician agreed. "As for Storm-watch her. There's not a lot any of us can do to stop her. Just be polite to her, and watch."
"But what if she's our murderer?"
"Why would she slaughter some back-country noble in another land? Use your head, man-if Storm took any interest in Summerstar at all, it's because he was mixed up in something the Harpers didn't approve of … slaving, dealing with the Zhentarim, or the like. All the more reason to be wary. Doesn't this Firefall Keep have a haunted quarter, or something?"
"A 'Haunted Tower,' Lord," Broglan replied.
"And what better way for someone at the keep to hide-or explain away-funny goings-on? 'You didn't really see that-it was ghosts!'"
"I see where you're leading, Lord. It could be someone striking out against Lord Athlan because he uncovered the secret, or threatened to."
"Exactly. And if Storm is a danger, get away from there and get word to me, above all else! That spell-reflection amulet I gave you ought to protect you against at least one attack, if she offers you violence. If that happens-don't waste your chance to flee, even if means abandoning the others, or a pretty young lady of the realm, or all the Summerstars and their horses and servants too! Got it?"
"I understand, Lord-and I thank you."
"Speak to me whenever you feel the need," Vangerdahast said briskly. The stone crackled once and started to sink toward the cushion. Broglan sat back wearily and watched it fall.
Encouraging words, but no aid. He was on his own, at least for now. How many more deaths would it take, how many more war wizards would die before the royal magician sent serious aid? And would that aid, if it did ever come, reach Firefall Keep in time?
Broglan rubbed at his eyes. He did not see the darkness that shifted in one of the shadows beyond the wards to slink away to the next shadow. One of the wards flared for an instant, as if powerful magic had been used nearby, but Broglan did not see that soundless flash, or its cause.
Sometimes mighty mages are just as tired and careless as the rest of us.
"My thanks for your work in getting to me so quickly," the Bard of Shadowdale said, turning in her saddle and slowing her mount to lay a hand on Vrespon's knee, "but I must leave you here."
"Leave me?" the Harper in worn leathers asked warily, looking around at the desolate, rolling wilderness. "Here?"
"Just ahead-at the top of this hill."
"I wondered why we were riding up rather than just going around," the Harper muttered, the lift of his voice making his words a question.
Storm tossed silver hair out of her eyes and gave him a level look. "If I am to do any good at Firefall Keep at all, I must get there at once-or at least, far sooner than they expect me. You half-killed your horse getting to me as swiftly as you did. I want you to rest her on the way back. Ride mine. Consider it yours now." She lifted one leg, put both hands on her saddle, and propelled herself a good dozen feet off to one side, to land crouched and facing him. The horse continued its patient walk up the grassy hill.
"You're going to walk to Firefall Keep?" Vrespon protested. "Dressed like that?"
Storm chuckled. "No, I'm going to gate there-and what's wrong with what I'm wearing, anyway?" She put hands to hips and tossed her head in mock indignation. Gods, but this lad was young. Right now, his eyes were shining in delight. He mustn't get many chances to do anything exciting, or be a part of any adventures. Ah, well-time to give him something to remember. Inspiring the young is part of the Way of the Harp, after all.
She strode on up the hill, still wearing her floppy old boots. She'd added torn and dirty trousers and a field smock that was more dirt and dung than garment. The rents they sported demonstrated repeatedly that she had nothing on underneath … and Storm hadn't even brought a dagger, let alone a purse or even a pouch to hold a meal or gear. Though she hadn't given it an order or even a glance, her horse trotted after her like a large and contented dog.