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see you immediately, I might add, and it would give me the greatest pleasure, it
would indeed, to escort you to see her myself!"
He ushered the dusty stranger across the threshold and in through the thick outer
wall of Haelithtorntowers with swift, florid gestures, almost sweeping him along the
short, curving path to the nearest grand door of the mansion. The doorguard stared
after them with an amazed whistle on his lips and wonderment in his mind.
He broke off whistling to remark, "I'll bet it would, I do indeed and I'll bet yon
stranger had best look sharp, or he'll never reach the Lady alive." His face darkened.
"Whereupon my hide will be next, as old Elward knows I heard all of that, too.
Wherefore I'd best confide in the Lady myself, and soon, too. Hmmm . . . what if
she knows about all of these matters? What if he fronts for her in them? Oh, gods . .
."
The Lady Joysil Ambrur was in her retiring-room, reclining in a vast couch strewn
with a waterfall of pillows. Her gown was of a rose-pink silk, her feet bare, and her
hair unbound to spill and swirl across the pillows.
Tomes were piled all around her, some of them larger than the tops of her small,
ornate side-tables. It was a wonder how her slender, languid limbs could lift
them but perhaps servants assisted with the larger ones. Some of them looked
magical and dangerous.
One such was spread open on her lap as she looked up, more surprise than
annoyance in her gaze. The servants knew she was not to be disturbed when . . .
Her steward bowed lower than she'd ever seen him do before and raised pleading
eyes to her. "Ah, Lady, a very special guest has come to us in some urgency, with a
private message for your ears alone! He says you know him well."
A shapely eyebrow arched, long fingers closed the book and set it aside, and a
hand extended in a beckoning gesture.
"So bring him to us."
The steward bowed again, his manner fawning rather than its usual careful, slightly
disdainful dignity, and turned to the door he'd entered by behind the hanging tapestry
at the foot of the great couch.
Roldro Tattershar strode in wearing a grave expression. At the first sight of him
the Lady Joysil said sharply, "Elward, you may withdraw. To the south pond, where
the rainbow-fins are in need of feeding."
The steward nodded stiffly, face frozen impassively, and departed. The bard in
dusty leathers waited, his hand raised to signal silence, and after a few breaths went
quietly back to the door, opened it, and peered out. Elward was gone.
He returned, nodding in satisfaction, and the Lady Joysil rose to embrace him
fondly and murmured, "What is it, Roldro? No good news, I can tell."
"Ammaratha, I've just come from Suzail, where I overheard two War Wizards
talking about the retired Lord Vangerdahast's current work."
"Yes, he's crafting new spells at his sanctum difficult magics, it would seem.
Powerful ones, without a doubt. Binding spells to establish new guardians for
Cormyr to replace the Lords Who Sleep, who were all destroyed. Some of his early
ones had to do with finding and calming the guardians he intended to hunt for, I
believe."
The Harper nodded. "Indeed. So much We Who Harp also believe. However, I
doubt you've discovered just whom he intends to bind."
"I'll pay you what I did last time, Roldro, to learn this," the Lady Ambrur said
calmly.
"That much coin will be quite acceptable."
The noblewoman looked at him sidelong. "Why are you backing away from me?"
"To give you room," the bard replied calmly.
Her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
"Ammaratha, hear this: For his new guardians of the realm, Vangerdahast intends
to bind dragons."
"What?" The air shuddered with a furiously rising thunder, and Roldro Tattershar
winced then scrambled back to the foot of the couch.
Silver blue scales flashed and shone, mighty wings spread and flapped heedless of
the cracking, groaning ceiling, and the glare of those piercing turquoise eyes froze
the cowering Harper where he crouched.
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