"Indeed. Hold the Thayan securely, now. Defeating his spell was a simple matter of calling on the defensive enchantments of my tower, but now I must work a rather exacting magic."
"I should hope so," the ranger murmured. "Sloppy spells give mages a bad reputation—when the wrong castle gets blasted to dust, the wrong thousand folk slain, and so on."
Elminster gave Florin a sour look. "Aren't there some ladies somewhere ye could be causing to swoon about now?"
Florin raised both his eyebrows and the still-dripping bunch of fish. "With these?"
The Old Mage sighed, gestured for silence, and cast his spell. In the creeping silence that followed, both men watched as Narnra's broken body slowly became whole again . . . and that of the Red Wizard took on her injuries, sinking and twisting under Florin. As the Thayan began to gasp and moan in pain, Narnra's eyes fluttered open, and she stared up at them and felt her limbs—and sudden lack of pain—in wonder . . . and growing apprehension.
"W-where am I now?" she murmured. "There was a rooftop . . . something falling . . ."
Elminster took her shoulders and gently helped her to sit up. "That was just magic, lass. Bad magic."
As Narnra got a good look at the unfamiliar green trees and meadows of Shadowdale, and the pinched, pain-wracked face of the Red Wizard beside her, all the color drained out of her face— and she flinched away from the hands on her shoulders.
"Will you send him back like this?" Florin asked quietly, eyeing Narnra's shaken face.
"Nay," Elminster said quietly. "I'll teach him some magic, show him why I made some of the moral choices I did, then set him loose . . . and he'll choose his own fate, for good or ill. The world needs Red Wizards just as it needs carrion-worms. Let's see if I can steer this one. My Lady The Simbul herself cannot slay them all. However . . ."
He looked at his daughter, and said, "This wizard tried to slay ye with his spells just now, back in Marsember. I place his fate in thy hands."
He put a hand on Florin's arm to signal the ranger to rise and step back. Together they withdrew, leaving Narnra sitting facing the Reel Wizard. Hastily, she scrambled to her feet, and backed out of his reach, snarling, "Keep back!"
With an obvious effort, the Thayan started to speak. "I am too . . . maimed to work spells or offer you violence."
"You tried to kill me!"
"I did."
"Why?"
"I needed you gone to impersonate you. To learn the secrets of Elminster."
She glared at him, then at the Old Mage, then back at him and spat bitterly, "You're no better than he is!"
"True," Starangh whispered. "Right now, I'm much worse."
"What good are his secrets to you?"
"Power," the Thayan husked. "All mages crave power."
Narnra's eyes blazed. "To make slaves of the rest of us!"
Starangh tried to shrug, but the movement brought such pain that he ended up writhing and groaning.
"Why don't you apprentice yourself to him or some other mage?" Narnra asked. "Why kill and deceive?"
"Trust someone else as my master? Leave myself so vulnerable? That road is the way of the fool," the Thayan told her, his voice a little stronger.
"Trust," Narnra told him furiously, leaning forward to drive her words home with slow, soft emphasis, "is a strength."
"You are a fool," he replied.
"And you're a cruel idiot," she replied scornfully. "Are all Red Wizards of Thay like you? Preening villains?"
Starangh shook his head. "Just kill me and have done taunting."
"Why? Do words of sense truly hurt you more than wounding magic?"
"Kill me," he pleaded, furious and ashamed.
"No," Narnra snapped, turning away. "My father shall have his chance to twist and shape you, as he does to so many. Why should you escape my fate?"
* * * * *
The flash and flare of magic in their faces sent Vangerdahast staggering back into Myrmeen even before the great silver-blue, scaled bulk burst into being, shattering the low passage ceiling with a roar of mingled exultation and pain then bursting forth skywards, flooding the sanctum with sunlight.
With a surge of wings and claws, the song dragon turned and pounced on the War Wizard Telarantra, rending her limb from limb before she could even shriek—to turn and hand the dripping result to Vangerdahast.
"Here's your traitor," she said, in a soft and vast echo of her human voice.
Back on his feet, Vangerdahast stood facing her calmly, as Myrmeen scrambled to her feet to defend him with her blade.
However, the song dragon did not strike. "Why," she asked the former Royal Magician, "did you spare me?"
"Lady," Vangerdahast replied gruffly, "you fought for your cause as I fight for mine. You've long dwelt among folk of Cormyr and must enjoy our company somewise to have persisted so long in doing so. I bear you no malice—and hope to turn you to support my plans."
"So I might become one of your willing defenders," she replied, a touch of bitterness in that great voice. "Exhibiting the grand destiny of... a useful tool."
Vangerdahast sighed. "Of course you'll see dragon-binding as evil. In truth, I'd avoid it if I could find a better way—but for me, all other things fall before my devotion to Cormyr."
"What has Cormyr done for you to deserve this devotion?"
The old wizard sighed. "Lady, defending this fair realm is what I do. There is no higher calling, no greater task, no brighter boon to all Faerun than this."
The great dragon head shook in resignation, those burning turquoise eyes never leaving those of Vangerdahast—yet searing also into Myrmeen's wary gaze. "What will you do now, Vangerdahast, if I fly away, gather a dozen dragons, and return to destroy you—and your precious sanctum—utterly?"
The old wizard shrugged. "Try me."
"Are you not afraid?"
"No," the retired Mage Royal replied. "I'm growing too old to fear for this wrinkled old hide."
"Do you not fear for your precious realm?"
Vangerdahast raised both of his empty hands in expressionless silence—and spell-links shone forth in the air like silver spider-webs, spanning emptiness between the rings on his fingers and the winking radiances of risen spells and a dozen revealed wands. They formed a vast and glowing ring around Joysil and pulsed powerfully enough that she did not—could not—doubt that they could destroy her in an instant.