Her voice was a brisk goad once more, but somehow Rauntlavon found himself almost grinning as he strode away to the end of the room and announced, "Inspection resumes, Great Lady...and sharing begins!"
His master laughed aloud, and after a moment Rauntlavon heard a low, thrilling murmur that must have been the ladylord chuckling.
She used the lash of her voice on Iyriklaunavan next, breaking off in mid-chuckle to snap, "Enough time wasted, mage. You frighten me up from my table with a map half drawn and my soup growing cold, then go all coy about why. What's so 'serious' that your apprentice must hear about it alongside me? Do you think you can get around to telling me about this oh-so-serious matter before, say, nightfall!"
"I meant it when I said this was serious, Nessa," Rauntlavon's master said quietly. "Put the edge of your tongue away for a moment and listen. Please."
He paused then, and...wonders! Rauntlavon even turned around to see, earning him an almost amused glance from the Great Lady...the Ladylord Nuressa gave him silence, waiting to hear him speak.
Iyriklaunavan blinked, seeming himself surprised, then said swiftly, "You know that magic...all magic not bolstered by draining a few sorts of enchanted items... is going wrong. Spells twisting to all sorts of results, untrustworthy and dangerous. Some mages are hiding in their towers, unable to defend themselves against anyone who might try to settle grudges. Magic has gone wild. If fewer folk knew about it, I'd say that this should be our secret...Rauntlavon's and mine own...for you to keep, or else. It will come as no surprise to you that many mages have been trying to find out why this darkness has befallen. I am one of them."
"And that's even less of a surprise," the Lady Nuressa said quietly. Rauntlavon's head snapped around to regard her somber face. He'd never heard her speak so gently before. She sounded almost … tender.
"I have no items to waste in bolstering my spells," Iyriklaunavan continued, "so the boy...Rauntlavon...has been my bulwark, using his spells to steady mine. Word has even come to us that some wizards...and even priests of the faiths of the Weave...believe divine Mystra and Azuth themselves have been corrupting magic deliberately, for some purpose mortals cannot even hazard."
"You worship our gods of magecraft?"
"Nessa," Iyriklaunavan said calmly, "I don't even have a bedchamber closet to keep my secrets in. I'm trying to hurry this, really I am just listen."
Nuressa leaned back against one of the lamp-girt pillars that held up the ceiling of the spell chamber, and gestured for the elf mage to continue. She didn't even look irritated.
"Just now we were seeking but had not yet called up a place in our scrying, the enchantment being just complete," Iyriklaunavan continued, "when I felt one thing, and saw another. I think everyone in Faerun who was attempting a scrying at the time felt what I did: the willful, reckless release of many wizards' staves at once, in one place, all directed at the same target."
"You mean mages everywhere feel it, whenever one wizard blasts another?" Nuressa's voice was incredulous. "No wonder you're all so difficult."
"No, we do not normally feel such things...nor have the violence of feeling anything strike us so hard that our own spells collapse into wildfire," Rauntlavon's master told her. "The reason we did this time was the target of this unleashing: the High One. I saw him, standing at the bottom of a shaft with three mortal mages, while magic seeking to destroy him rained down...and his attention was elsewhere."
"Azuth? Who was crazed enough to use magic to try to blast down a god of magic?" The ladylord looked surprised.
"That I did not see," Iyriklaunavan replied. "I did, however, see what Azuth was regarding. A ghostly sorceress, who was trying to slay a Chosen of Mystra."
"What's that?" the Great Lady asked. "Some sort of servant of the goddess?"
"Yes," the elf mage said grimly, "and he was someone you might remember. Cast your thoughts back to a day when we fled from a tomb...a tomb furnished with pillars that erupted in eyes. A mage was hanging above us there, asleep or trapped, and came out after we fled. He asked you what year it was."
"Oh, yesss," the ladylord murmured, her eyes far away, "and I told him."
"And thereby we earned the favor of the goddess Mystra," Iyriklaunavan told her, "who delivered this castle into our hands."
The Lady Nuressa frowned. "I thought Amandarn won title to these lands while dicing with some merchant lords...hazarding all our coins in the process," she said.
Rauntlavon stood very still, not wanting to be ejected again now. Surely this was an even more dangerous secret than...
"Amandarn lost all our coins, Nessa. Folossan nearly killed him for it...and they had to flee when he stole a few bits back to buy a meal that night and got caught at it. The two of them hid in a shrine to Mystra...rolled right in under the altar and hid under its fine cloth. There they slept, though both of them swear magic must have dragged them into slumber, for they'd had little to drink and were all excited from their flight and the danger. When they awoke, all of our coins were back in Amandarn's pouch...along with the title to the castle."
The Great Lady's brow arched and she asked, "And you believe this tale?"
"Nessa, I used spells to glean every last detail of it out of both their heads, after they told me. It happened."
"I see," the Great Lady said calmly. "Rauntlavon, be aware that this is another secret shared between us here...and only us here, or you'll have to flee four Lords of the Castle, not merely one."
"Yes, Great Lady," the apprentice said, then swallowed and faced them both. "There's something I should say, now. If something happens to Great Azuth...or Most Holy Mystra...and magic keeps crumbling, we all share a grave problem."
"And what is that, Rauntlavon?" The Lady Nuressa asked, in almost kindly tones, her fingers caressing the pommel of her long sword.
Rauntlavon's eyes dropped to those fingers...whose fabled strength was one of the rocks upon which his world stood...then back up to meet her smoky eyes.
"I think we must pray for Azuth or find some way to aid him. The castle was built with much magic," he told the two lords, the words coming out in a rush. "If its spells fall, it will fall...and us with it."
The Great Lady's expression did not change. Her eyes turned to meet those of the Lord Iyriklaunavan. "Is this true?"
The elf merely nodded. Nuressa stared at him for a moment, her face still calm, but Rauntlavon saw that her hand was now closed around the hilt of the long sword and gripping so tightly that the knuckles were white. Her eyes swung back to his.
"Well, Rauntlavon...have you any plan for preventing such doom?"
Rauntlavon spread empty hands, wishing wildly that he could be the hero, and see love for him awaken in her eyes ... wishing he could give her more than his despair. "No, Nuressa," he was astonished to hear himself calmly whispering. "I'm only an apprentice. But I will die for you, if you ask me."
He drew his blade out of the swaying sorceress with savage glee, to thrust it into the Great Foe he'd pursued for so long, the grasping, stinking human who'd dared to stain bright Cormanthyr with his presence and doom the House of Starym, now helpless before him, able to move just his eyes...fittingly...to see whence his doom came.
"Know as you die, human worm," Ilbryn hissed, "that the Starym aven..."
And those were the last words he ever spoke, as all the magic that the ancient sorceress had drawn into herself rushed out again, in a fiery flood of raw magical energy that consumed the blade that had spilled it and the elf whose hand held that blade, all in one raging wave that crashed against the far wall of the cavern and ate through solid rock as if it was soft cheese, thrusting onward until it found daylight on a slope beyond, and the groan of toppling trees and falling stones began in earnest.