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her back . . . and the cord around her waist and thighs led up to she turned, lifting
her head to look, and discovered she wore a choke-leash the underside of a rusty
iron outer staircase. The leash led there, too. It looked like the back stair of a
warehouse that saw little use but presented an unfriendly, rotting fortress face to
Faerun anyway.
Rhauligan, of course, stood not far away but out of any possible reach, no
matter how furiously she might try to strangle herself reaching him.
"Important folk seem very interested in you," he said thoughtfully as their eyes
met. "I wonder why."
Narnra shrugged at him through her tangled hair. "I know not," she snapped, "but
I do know that I'm not yours nor your Mage Royal's to take and confine like some
sort of pet or bauble just as I was not Elminster's to give!"
"I can scarce believe, she-thief, that you've not yet learned that if anyone can do a
thing to you, they've the right to do it if they stand for law, and you do not."
Rhauligan cast quick glances up and down the deserted, refuse-heaped alley and
added, "Brutal, yes, but outlanders like you who deal with the Lady Ambrur are
buyers and sellers of information . . . and the whereabouts and doings of
Vangerdahast is information that could make you very rich and doom Cormyr at the
same stroke. Had the Mage Royal not commanded your capture, I'd be slaying you
now, not bandying words with you. I dislike slaying young lasses, but if I must
choose between spilling the blood of just one of them and saving a bright realm full
of them, my choice is clear."
Narnra glared at him, straining against the wires until her fingers burned, and spat,
"So you can sell the information yourself, no doubt, or we'd not be in this alley. I
know Waterdeep, not Cormyr. I couldn't even find my way to a gate out of this city
unless you let me search for a bit. Who'm I going to sell anything to? And how'm I
supposed to know anything useful to sell to a realm full of folk I don't even know?"
Rhauligan's only reply was a wordless, crooked smile.
"So what's going to happen to me now?" she snarled. "Why'm I here?"
"Business meeting," Rhauligan said, looking up and down the alley again.
"Important business."
"With?" Narnra demanded, staring around at the deserted, garbage-heaped alley
with a skeptical eyebrow arched.
A sensation broke over her then, a creeping and tingling quite unlike anything she'd
ever felt before. It was energetic, swift . . . and magical.
Narnra tried to curse, but her tongue seemed huge and heavy, and her suddenly
slack mouth not her own. She tried to toss her head and with a sudden leap of
fear found herself still standing motionless, still gazing just where she'd been
looking before.
The invisible, paralyzing force was streaming into her from off to her left, about
six paces away . . . where a heap of trash suddenly shifted and rose up with a little
grunt of effort, falling away untidily to reveal a woman in trim dark robes, a gentle
but noble face, and long flowing auburn hair one lock of which had gone white.
"With me, as it happens," the woman said gently but firmly. "I believe we've seen
each other recently. I'm Laspeera of the War Wizards."
Narnra glared at her, or tried to. War Wizards again, she thought, and I can't even
move my mouth to ask, or protest, or ...
Laspeera cast a smiling glance at the Harper. "I'd like to hear what's so urgent that
the smooth and urbane Glarasteer Rhauligan races across Marsember like an
overeager dog, toting smart-tongued street thieves."
"So you shall," Rhauligan replied and began to pant rapidly, his tongue hanging
out.
Laspeera gave him a look. "What's got into you?"
"Revealing my innermost overeager dog, Lady Mage," he replied brightly.
Laspeera sighed, waved one graceful hand, and murmured, "Get on with it, faithful
hound. I grow no younger."
* * * * *
Lord Vangerdahast of Cormyr leaned back contentedly from the table. His
stomach promptly rumbled, sounding every bit as contented as he was. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] - zanotowane.pl
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