Mrelder slammed into unyielding hardness and bounced, hearing a mongrelman grunt in pain behind him. Then there came a heavy crash as another blundered into a chair and fell through it to the floor.
Then came more bright red flashes, somewhere above him, and more groans. Weapons were dropped with heavy clangs and clatters, someone shouted in pain, and someone else shrieked in agony, cries that receded swiftly back out the door and ended in an abrupt wail that could only mark a plunge down the stairwell.
Golskyn said something cold and crisp and triumphant, and Mrelder felt that horrible shifting in his mind that could only mean one thing: his father was collapsing most of the wards laid on his chamber into a mighty spell to make it even stronger.
Mrelder's skin tingled, and a sudden, high singing began, so thin and high-pitched that it felt almost like a needle driven into his ears… and it went on and on.
All other sounds ceased, but for a few distant groans and the imperious tread of his father's boots, crossing the chamber to thrust bruisingly into Mrelder's ribs and roll him over.
"Well, you exhibited your usual scant usefulness," Golskyn of the Gods commented, staring scornfully down at the paralyzed sorcerer. Mrelder gazed helplessly back at him.
One side of the priest's head was scorched, his bared torso was a mass of sickening yellow-and-blue bruises, blistered burns, and blackened tatters of clothing largely burned away down to his belt, The little snake graft that sprouted from his wrist was thrashing about convulsively, biting the air in agony… but the priest's own surviving eye was its usual cold, confident self. The other one-the beholder orb-stared with deadly promise down at Mrelder, the eyepatch that customarily concealed it dangling around Golskyn's neck.
Beyond him, shrouded in flickering magics, a beholder-a small one, little larger than a round shield, and with only six eyestalks, but yes, a beholder! — hung motionless.
His father's head turned. "Well, Hoth?"
"Four dead. Ortarn here, Danuth and Velp yonder, and Skein's face was burnt off, even before he fell over the rail and broke his neck. The rest of us will live until we can heal each other. Shall I show the noble up?"
Golskyn started to chuckle, a harsh, mirthless sound that went on for some time. Mrelder tried again to move his hand and found that it responded now, but slowly, drifting in dreamlike torpor despite the fiercest exertion of his will.
Hoth ignored the sorcerer at his feet entirely, his eyes fixed on Golskyn as the priest's chuckle ran down. Gazing at the frozen beholder, the leader of the Amalgamation replied, "Of course. Tell him-"
"I found my own way up, as it happens," Beldar Roaringhorn said calmly from the doorway.
Hoth whirled around, but Golskyn snapped out a tentacle to coil around the man's arm and ordered, "Leave us, Hoth. Peacefully. The Lord Roaringhorn stands very much in our favor, just now."
Mrelder's paralysis was falling away very quickly now. He rolled over and got to his feet.
Beldar Roaringhorn was strolling forward, one hand on sword-hilt and the other at his belt. Heedless of the strong likelihood that the noble was clutching his two strongest battle-magics, Mrelder stepped into his path and snarled, "You sent that horror in here, to kill us!"
Lord Roaringhorn lifted one brow. "That was obviously the beholder's intent, yes, but how would that serve my purpose?"
Golskyn eyed him keenly. "A test, perchance, to see if we of the Amalgamation were powerful enough to grant you what you seek."
The young noble nodded.
"And now that you know?" the priest demanded.
Beldar met his gaze squarely. "Now that I know, I'd like to proceed immediately."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Mrelder glared at Beldar Roaringhorn, reaching for the dagger Piergeiron had given him a lifetime ago.
Golskyn's scaly hand closed around his son's wrist before that fang could be drawn.
"Enough," Lord Unity of the Amalgamation said coldly. "You found the right man, and I'll look very darkly on any attempt to harm him now."
Mrelder opened his mouth and then shut it again, swallowing his fury behind set teeth. If this fool of a noble had managed Golskyn's slaying, that would have been a delight, but now…
He'd never expected the man to return, and had laid his plans with Korvaun Helmfast in mind. This Beldar showed a disturbing boldness and wits, too. Could it be he'd actually stumbled on a worthy heir to Lord Piergeiron? Did the Watching Gods laugh that much?
"Your son's right to be suspicious of me," Beldar was telling the priest, "for even as I arrive at your door, this beholder-the sort known as a 'gauth,' I believe-enters your house forcibly, by another way."
He glanced at the charred ruin of Golskyn's back room beyond the office-chamber. What had been a window was now a ragged hole opening onto a high view down over the alley behind.
"I must assure you I'm guilty only of overconfidence. I thought the spells I'd purchased-I dared not specify too closely what I wanted them for, you'll appreciate-were sufficient to keep it securely captive until you could assume control of them, and, ah…of it."
Golskyn waved a dismissive hand. "Irrelevant. We all make mistakes. So long as you don't make a habit of doing so or betray the slightest hint of any malice toward the Amalgamation or our goals, I care not if you bought, borrowed, stole, or personally gave birth to this beholder or overcame it by strength, guile, or beguiling minstrelsy. What matters are results!"
"Father," Mrelder said quietly, "there's a matter of magic I must speak with you about privately, right now. I need only a few breaths of your time and mean no disrespect to you or to Lord Roaringhorn, but magic has already done much damage here, and we may yet have the Watch pounding at our doors as to why. We'll certainly have them doing so if there are further… eruptions."
"I've had my own dealings with the Watch," Beldar put in quickly, "and will be glad to withdraw for as long as you need. Magic can be dangerous, and the Watch all too vigilant."
Golskyn nodded. "You speak truth. Stand you then by the head of the stair while I speak with Mrelder."
The moment Beldar had bowed and withdrawn, the priest rounded on his son, and his whisper was fierce. "Well?"
Mrelder kept his voice low. "I'm alarmed at how swiftly we've embraced this noble-and how quickly he's brought us a beholder! Father, if he's been chosen as Piergeiron's successor, don't you think a dozen wizards have scoured his thoughts scores of times, and taken full measure of his motives? Hasn't he been trained, probably for years, to put Waterdeep first, and ruthlessly put down all threats to-"
Golskyn swung up his hand like a cook hefting a cleaver. Mrelder knew what that meant and fell abruptly silent.
"I meant what I said," the priest muttered. "You found us the right man: this must be the next Open Lord of the city. I think you speak sound prudence now: yes, of course he's formidable, swift-witted and loyal to Waterdeep, yet he's never crossed swords with Golskyn of the Gods before, to say nothing of those I serve! Do you think so little of my own abilities to subvert anyone? Have you forgotten Braeldra so soon? And Aummaduth of Calimport? Both wanted my head before I bent them to the true faith, and you know the eternal price they both paid in the end. Willingly, I might add."
"True," Mrelder muttered, not wanting to voice his own suspicions that proud Braeldra had undertaken her last, foolhardy mission purely to escape Golskyn's bed, once she'd seen she could do nothing against his magic. "Forgive my doubts, Father. If you'll just let me make sure there're no tracing spells on him right now, that might let others in Waterdeep-"