Spellstorm Read Online Free Page B

to march through it, though fleeting contact
     causes only a sickening nausea and does no harm if the affected individual flees its
     confines forthwith. It has always been observed to last for ten days at a time.’ ”
    She ended her recitation and added in her normal voice, “Several ambitious minor Sembian
     mages have become its most recent casualties over the past four days. It has been
     around the mansion for four days now.”
    “Halaunt and his household servants—who hustled him home, after Lionmantle here got
     him out of the burning Dragon—were observed to pass into it,” the Lord Warder put
     in, “and have not come out again.”
    “So if any of them were wizards, they’re mindless now,” Tarn mused aloud, “and if
     a wizard snuck in while Halaunt was visiting us here in Suzail, any such intruder
     is presumably trapped inside Oldspires until the storm abates.”
    “And in six days,” Vainrence observed, “any wizard can march right into Halaunt’s
     mansion and try to take the Lost Spell. I foresee the mother of all spell battles,
     as mage after mage …”
    Ganrahast sighed. “Yes. Some will be wise enough to let someone else attempt the seizing
     first, and someone else pounce on that seizer, and so on. We could have mayhem all
     over the realm.”
    All four wizards of war nodded in grim unison … and silence fell. Tarn tried not to
     be the first to break it, though he was eager to hear what Ganrahast decided. Yet
     the Royal Magician parted the heaped and strewn documents in front of him far enough
     to lay bare a splendid map of the Forest Kingdom, and studied it in silence for what
     seemed a long time. At last he looked up with a polite smile and said, “Well done,
     Lord Lionmantle. Both for your actions in the Dragon Rampant, and your contributions
     here and now. You left a sickbed to make your report, and must be both hungry and
     thirsty. Glathra here will take you to the kitchens to enjoy a good feast with her
     and the off-duty wizards of war who are here in the palace.”
    Tarn summoned all the schooling of face and voice his Lionmantle elders had taught
     him to try to hide his disappointment, but knew, as Glathra silently swept him out,
     that he’d fooled no one in the spell-shielded chamber.
    “You’ll grow used to that,” Lady Barcantle said softly, as she led him along still
     more dark secret passages, deeper into the palace. “I did.”
    Tarn didn’t know how to reply, and settled for thanking her formally. He hadn’t known
     the infamous Glathra “Razortongue” could be kind or understanding.
    Truly, Cormyr held fresh surprises every day.

    T HE SPELL-SHIELD SIGHED out a momentary wash of white sparks as it sealed itself over the door that had just
     closed behind Glathra Barcantle.
    Whereupon Ganrahast sat back in his chair and cursed bitterly, a string of colorful
     oaths that ended with a heartfelt, “I’m
far
too busy trying to hold Cormyr together to deal with
this
just now!”
    Vainrence nodded sympathetically. “Fresh trouble since this morn?”
    “Of course. As long as the realm has its nobles …”
    Ganrahast studied the map in front of him, sighed, and added, “Every new day brings
     new schemes and outbursts; it seems every last noble wants to revel in their own swaggering
     moment of arrogantly goading the rest of us. Today, the usual mix of lords grumbling
     about or passively resisting Raedra, and some others starting to talk about their
     own new ideas about reducing the ruler’s powers—notably the younger Lord Tathcrown,
     this morn.”
    “Oh? Young Ralaghar? And what’s
his
ideal Cormyr?”
    “He wants the monarch reduced to a first among equals, among nobles who can and should
     be a lot freer to do as they please. Starting with dismantling the wizards of war,
     and killing or exiling most of us, in favor of every noble having their own paid—by
     the Crown, if you please!—house wizards who are sworn-loyal to their noble