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.Persons of importance, who, when they return to the realms you desire to rule, can get you to rulers and those who choose rulers.and the real conquest of Faerun can begin.Unnoticed by those who bluster and blow warhorns and gallop under banners."He was humming happily to match its purrings now, as he tenderly stroked the shifting, caressingly moving bulk of the hargaunt."A hargaunt empire, where humans made docile reap rich harvests and burn out diseases and stand together against monstrous foes."A sudden grin split Onsler Ruldroun's weary face, and he said tothe silent room around him, "And Telgarth Boarblade wonders why I hold my tongue so tightly!"Flowing from his cheek across his face, the hargaunt purred.*****Belthonder prided himself on never uttering an excuse—and never needing to.Once he'd had to tell Vangerdahast, "Not yet," but the Royal Magician had known he was right and had smiled and nodded his approval.Vangey knew who were his best Wizards of War.And if Marim Belthonder was no longer as young and supple and devastatingly handsome as he'd once been, he was wiser, more artful in his persuasions, and just as tall.The women of Cormyr still smiled invitingly when he looked their way, which sometimes accomplished half his work for him.Now, for instance.This path led to a glade where a certain nobleman's wife would be waiting for him, cloaked againsr the night cold but probably wearing nothing much beneath it save boots.The moment his seeking spell was done, to make sure she'd come alone and wasn't being followed by anyone suspicious, he would put on his very best smile and go to meet het.Belthonder flexed his fingers before working the spell—precise and elegant, that was how all castings should be—and stepped away from the trunk of the sheltering shadowtop to give himself room.The Sword That Never Sleeps promptly sliced through his throat and several of his fingertips as it raced past.It looped and came racing back to bury itself quillons-deep in Belthonder's heart before the body had even begun to topple.Then it twisted and flew backward, freeing itself from flesh and bone.Glistening with the best war wizard blood, the sword flew away, vanishing back into the night.Armaukran's enchantments were peerless in some regards but merely adequate in others.Old Ghost was almost out of earshot before the noblewoman's screams began.*****Drathar had no intention of playing the dead hero.So far as he knew, no Brotherhood superior was scrying him now.How he carried out the orders Hardtower had relayed to him was his business.Stop the Knights from reaching Shadowdale, kill as many as possible, and above all get the Pendant of Ashaba.Clear enough.Yet there was no need to try for all three goals in one fray.That probably would get him killed, going up against a chartered band of adventurers.Killing one or two and wounding others so as to slow their travel would be solid work for this night.So he could hang back and use his spells to watch.Or to whisk himself away if the need arose.Let the dirlagraun—displacer beasts, most mages called them— take on the Knights of Myth Drannor and die in his place.The sword-sharp spell he'd cast on its claws had lengthened them into razor-keen, hooked talons as long as sabers, and the shielding spell he'd cast on the beast should hurl the first spell they sent at the dirlagraun right back where it had come from.Perhaps—just perhaps—that would be enough.If not, thete would be other nights before even Knights on fast horses could reach Shadowdale.And these Knights were walking.And every night would hold another dirlagraun—or something far more interesting, if his spells could find and conquer it.At them, my champion! He sent that burning thought and pulled out of its mind.There were two priests and a mageling up on that ledge.Eagerly, barely needing his urging, the dirlagraun bounded up the scree, loose stones hissing and rolling under its paws—and pounced.*****Omgryn cared not a whit if others got the praise.What mattered to him was that he knew—along with Belthondet, Vangerdahast, Laspeera, and even Queen Filfaeril and her lord husband, King Azoun himself—that he and Belthonder were the Royal Magician's best war wizards.The spellhurlers Vangey turned to when Cormyrstood in need, the two who could get the hardest tasks done—and do them well.Which was why he was stepping out of a noble lord's hunring lodge at this darksome time of night, between two spell-frozen guard dogs, to pick his way around twoscore guards who were now snoring their ways through service ro four different masters.Behind them, those four masters sat slumped and silent, in no need of bodyguards nor any other sort of servant ever again.They were the lord's second son, a Sembian trader, a merchant of Zhentil Keep, and a Dragon Cultist poisoner.All sitting dead around a table behind Omgryn, with the fire that would consume the poisons they'd been trading, their bodies, and rhe lodge, too, magically kindling among their unseeing faces.Omgryn had to hurry.Deltalon and the others would be waiting, and it was risky to keep a porral open for long in this country, with that pulsing glow that drew wild beasts like nothing else.They—The flying sword that swooped out of the night almost slashed Hendran Omgryn's head righr off his shoulders.His head bobbled loosely, gore spraying in all directions from benearh it, as its jaw wagged up and down in a vain, dying frenzy that failed to frame the words Omgryn's darkening mind was so desperately trying to shout."The Sword That Never Sleeps!" he wanted to cry."Beware! It's real! It's here in Cormyr! All Wizards of War, beware!"All he could manage was a wet, energetic gurgling.Until the racing sword severed what was left of his neck and sent his head spinning off into the darkness.His body flopped down into brittle shrubs with a crash, and the head bounced twice, amid much smaller crashes, then rolled.Almost to the boots of Lorbryn Deltalon, as he hastened forward in a crouch, a wand ready in his hand and two younger war wizards at his back."Is it—?" one of them gasped."It is," Deltalon said, backing away as the first flames started to lick up out of the lodge windows."Back to Tsantress, and through the portal.I saw what did this."He worked a shielding spell faster than the two younger war wizards had ever seen one cast before."Move!"They turned and ran.As he pelted along in their wake, hoping his shielding would fend off a long, deadly sword swooping point- first at his back out of the night, Deltalon wondered what he dared tell them.Best discuss this with Vangerdahast first.Word of these slayings was spreading among the Wizards of War but was being kept as sectet as possible from the general populace.Not that Cormyreans were fools.The whispers were flying about the realm already.About as energetically as that deadly sword.Deltalon shivered as the glow of the portal loomed up, the anxious face of Tsantress beside it."Get through, lass!" he panted."Unless you'd prefer a brief new career as a pincushion!"Then he launched himself into the air, hoping he could move faster than the sword.*****"Tluin!" Semoor shouted in horror, really coming awake for the first time
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