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Authors: Anthony Mark
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how much I still despise Caledan the Harper. There’s a gray mare similar to Caledan’s tied out front. Make certain the guards see you riding out of town. I want all who might be interested to believe Caledan Caldorien is gone for good.”
“As you wish, Master Cormik,” Dario said, bowing with a flourish. He turned and disappeared through the hidden doorway.
“Do you trust him?” Caledan asked after Dario had gone.
“Better yet, I care for him,” Cormik replied. “He’s the son I never had, Caledan. But then, I don’t suppose you’d care about such sentimental things.”
Caledan grunted but said nothing.
“I want the Harpers out of my city!”
The Zhentarim Lord Ravendas was not in a pleasant mood. She prowled like a cat about the topmost chamber of the tower of the city lord. The chamber itself was a den of luxury. Snow white furs were strewn across the floor of dark, polished marble. Exotic tapestries woven with gold and silver draped the walls, and expensive incense scented the air. Ravendas spun to fix the lord steward with her ice-blue gaze.
“Do I make myself clear?” she hissed, her voice as chilling as her eyes. “I will not have their meddling undermine my control. I want the head of any Harper that dares to set foot within the walls of this city delivered to me on a silver tray.”
“Including Caldorien’s?” the lord steward, Snake, asked in his dry, sibilant voice. His tone was utterly deferential, but Ravendas’s pale cheeks flushed with sudden rage.
“I should have you flogged for that impertinence, my lord steward,” she snarled. She sat upon a velvet divan, smoothing the wrinkles from her crimson gown. “And perhaps I will do just that,” she mused. “You know very well that I want Caldorien delivered to me undamaged.”
Snake’s expression remained impassive. “But pain is acceptable, my lord?” Snake inquired.
“Oh, yes,” Ravendas crooned. Sudden fire sparked in her eyes. “Pain is quite acceptable when dealing with Caldorien.” Her delicate hands clenched unconsciously. It had been seven years since she had last faced Caledan Caldorien, but the memory had if anything grown more vivid with the passing of time. Seven years ago she had raised an army to conquer a town called Hluthvar, but Caldorien and his Harper friends had defeated her, making a mockery of her power. That was an affront she would dearly love to repay.
Fate must favor her, she thought, to have brought Caldorien back to Iriaebor, practically to her doorstep. At first, when the reports of a troublesome stranger reached her, she had not thought of Caldorien. Then came the sudden, violent death of one of her captains on the Street of Jewels. Her lord steward was not without his uses, and by means of a magic created from the dead warrior’s blood, Snake had conjured an image of the captain’s killer. She had recognized the angular, wolfish face instantly. It was Caldorien. He was in the cityher city. But where?
She would find him. The intervening years had made her more powerful than she would have once dared to imagine. Caldorien would not defeat her again. No, this time he would become her slave.
“You are dismissed, my lord steward.” She spoke harshly. “Do not forget your orders.” The thin, almost skeletal man bowed deeply, then turned to leave the chamber, his green robes hissing against the marble floor. “And, Snake,” Ravendas called after him, “send my son to me. I wish to hear him practice his music.”
“Of course, my lord. I shall send for him immediately.” The door shut, leaving Ravendas alone. She poured herself a goblet of crimson wine and gazed out the window, surveying the city that she had vanquished. Every building, every stone, every life down there was hers, hers to exploit or destroy as she saw fit. But even that was nothing to what was next Soon, very soon, the other lords among the Zhentarim would quail before her. It was Ravendas’s destiny to rule
“As you wish, Master Cormik,” Dario said, bowing with a flourish. He turned and disappeared through the hidden doorway.
“Do you trust him?” Caledan asked after Dario had gone.
“Better yet, I care for him,” Cormik replied. “He’s the son I never had, Caledan. But then, I don’t suppose you’d care about such sentimental things.”
Caledan grunted but said nothing.
“I want the Harpers out of my city!”
The Zhentarim Lord Ravendas was not in a pleasant mood. She prowled like a cat about the topmost chamber of the tower of the city lord. The chamber itself was a den of luxury. Snow white furs were strewn across the floor of dark, polished marble. Exotic tapestries woven with gold and silver draped the walls, and expensive incense scented the air. Ravendas spun to fix the lord steward with her ice-blue gaze.
“Do I make myself clear?” she hissed, her voice as chilling as her eyes. “I will not have their meddling undermine my control. I want the head of any Harper that dares to set foot within the walls of this city delivered to me on a silver tray.”
“Including Caldorien’s?” the lord steward, Snake, asked in his dry, sibilant voice. His tone was utterly deferential, but Ravendas’s pale cheeks flushed with sudden rage.
“I should have you flogged for that impertinence, my lord steward,” she snarled. She sat upon a velvet divan, smoothing the wrinkles from her crimson gown. “And perhaps I will do just that,” she mused. “You know very well that I want Caldorien delivered to me undamaged.”
Snake’s expression remained impassive. “But pain is acceptable, my lord?” Snake inquired.
“Oh, yes,” Ravendas crooned. Sudden fire sparked in her eyes. “Pain is quite acceptable when dealing with Caldorien.” Her delicate hands clenched unconsciously. It had been seven years since she had last faced Caledan Caldorien, but the memory had if anything grown more vivid with the passing of time. Seven years ago she had raised an army to conquer a town called Hluthvar, but Caldorien and his Harper friends had defeated her, making a mockery of her power. That was an affront she would dearly love to repay.
Fate must favor her, she thought, to have brought Caldorien back to Iriaebor, practically to her doorstep. At first, when the reports of a troublesome stranger reached her, she had not thought of Caldorien. Then came the sudden, violent death of one of her captains on the Street of Jewels. Her lord steward was not without his uses, and by means of a magic created from the dead warrior’s blood, Snake had conjured an image of the captain’s killer. She had recognized the angular, wolfish face instantly. It was Caldorien. He was in the cityher city. But where?
She would find him. The intervening years had made her more powerful than she would have once dared to imagine. Caldorien would not defeat her again. No, this time he would become her slave.
“You are dismissed, my lord steward.” She spoke harshly. “Do not forget your orders.” The thin, almost skeletal man bowed deeply, then turned to leave the chamber, his green robes hissing against the marble floor. “And, Snake,” Ravendas called after him, “send my son to me. I wish to hear him practice his music.”
“Of course, my lord. I shall send for him immediately.” The door shut, leaving Ravendas alone. She poured herself a goblet of crimson wine and gazed out the window, surveying the city that she had vanquished. Every building, every stone, every life down there was hers, hers to exploit or destroy as she saw fit. But even that was nothing to what was next Soon, very soon, the other lords among the Zhentarim would quail before her. It was Ravendas’s destiny to rule
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