attempt to locate Lady Eidola, and except for this we would have never considered such an area of inquiry. Lady Eidola’s loss, however, has thrown Waterdeep into great chaos. Her recovery is paramount to that great city’s future, perhaps even to its survival. As a result, we came here ourselves to seek her. Were you in our position, I believe you would have done the same.”
Had I been in the same position as you, Garkim thought, I would have found the missing woman by now and slain her kidnappers as well. He took a short breath. “Of course,” he said, “of course. Your actions are understandable.” He looked down at the tablecloth as if looking through it into the infinite distance beyond it. “I will consult with my liege this evening and discuss your mission with him. You must understand that”
“Lord Garkim.” The voice came from nowhere and filled the room, vibrating bone and wood.
Miltiades and Kern were out of their seats in a second. Kern’s chair fell over backwards. Both gripped their warhammers as they looked about, ready to tear them free of their belt straps. Trandon, too, was half out of his chair, one hand frozen in the act of reaching inside the tooled leather vest he wore over his light armor. Only Garkim, Noph, and Jacob remained seated, the latter two swivel-ing around with wide eyes to locate the speaker.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” responded Garkim, a moment after the noise died down.
“Bring the visitors to us in one half-hour,” finished the voice. The five visitors looked but saw no one else in the room with them, not even a floating mouth or other phantasm.
“As you wish, Your Majesty.” Garkim waited for further instructions, but none were forthcoming. “Well,” he said, looking around the table, “perhaps His Majesty can clear up these matters for you in person. We will miss the sea fowl, however, which is a shame. We may as well finish the fruit.”
“We are prepared to see the mage-king now,” said Miltiades in a hard voice.
“It would accomplish nothing,” Garkim said, unruffled. “He would take no notice of you even if you held your hammers in front of his face. You must be familiar with wizards in your own lands. Are not some of them like that?”
“Your Majesty!” shouted Miltiades. He turned, eyes up, his warhammer lowered until his fingers held it at his side. “Your Majesty!” he shouted at the walls of the room.
There was nothing but silence.
“His attention is elsewhere,” said Garkim with a sigh. He picked up a grape and ate it. “He is quite prompt about responding otherwise.”
Kern lowered his warhammer as well. He knelt down and picked up his chair, setting it upright but not taking his seat yet. “A fine way to say hello,” he muttered.
Garkim smiled slightly. “One gets accustomed to it.”
Noph noticed that his hands were trembling. He swallowed and locked his fingers together on the tabletop to calm them. “Can” he started to say, but stopped himself hastily.
Garkim caught his gaze. “You may go on,” he said.
Noph glanced at the others, then licked his lips. “I was wondering… does the mage-king have … can he hear what we are saying?”
“That is entirely possible,” said Garkim easily, “though I don’t believe he is doing so now. He uses his sorcery to investigate various places around our kingdom and particularly our city, but it is difficult to say whether he hears everything that is said by his subjects, or sees everything they do, even within his own palace. He has so many things on his mind lately, it is impossible to know what he is doing. In the meanwhile, I say again that we have a few minutes before we meet him. It would not hurt to eat.”
Miltiades nodded and slowly took his seat again, eyes fixed on the tabletop. He picked up the yellow apple before him and regarded it solemnly. “Enough questions for now, then,” he said. “Let us enjoy our repast, then speak with the mage-king. I am sure we
Had I been in the same position as you, Garkim thought, I would have found the missing woman by now and slain her kidnappers as well. He took a short breath. “Of course,” he said, “of course. Your actions are understandable.” He looked down at the tablecloth as if looking through it into the infinite distance beyond it. “I will consult with my liege this evening and discuss your mission with him. You must understand that”
“Lord Garkim.” The voice came from nowhere and filled the room, vibrating bone and wood.
Miltiades and Kern were out of their seats in a second. Kern’s chair fell over backwards. Both gripped their warhammers as they looked about, ready to tear them free of their belt straps. Trandon, too, was half out of his chair, one hand frozen in the act of reaching inside the tooled leather vest he wore over his light armor. Only Garkim, Noph, and Jacob remained seated, the latter two swivel-ing around with wide eyes to locate the speaker.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” responded Garkim, a moment after the noise died down.
“Bring the visitors to us in one half-hour,” finished the voice. The five visitors looked but saw no one else in the room with them, not even a floating mouth or other phantasm.
“As you wish, Your Majesty.” Garkim waited for further instructions, but none were forthcoming. “Well,” he said, looking around the table, “perhaps His Majesty can clear up these matters for you in person. We will miss the sea fowl, however, which is a shame. We may as well finish the fruit.”
“We are prepared to see the mage-king now,” said Miltiades in a hard voice.
“It would accomplish nothing,” Garkim said, unruffled. “He would take no notice of you even if you held your hammers in front of his face. You must be familiar with wizards in your own lands. Are not some of them like that?”
“Your Majesty!” shouted Miltiades. He turned, eyes up, his warhammer lowered until his fingers held it at his side. “Your Majesty!” he shouted at the walls of the room.
There was nothing but silence.
“His attention is elsewhere,” said Garkim with a sigh. He picked up a grape and ate it. “He is quite prompt about responding otherwise.”
Kern lowered his warhammer as well. He knelt down and picked up his chair, setting it upright but not taking his seat yet. “A fine way to say hello,” he muttered.
Garkim smiled slightly. “One gets accustomed to it.”
Noph noticed that his hands were trembling. He swallowed and locked his fingers together on the tabletop to calm them. “Can” he started to say, but stopped himself hastily.
Garkim caught his gaze. “You may go on,” he said.
Noph glanced at the others, then licked his lips. “I was wondering… does the mage-king have … can he hear what we are saying?”
“That is entirely possible,” said Garkim easily, “though I don’t believe he is doing so now. He uses his sorcery to investigate various places around our kingdom and particularly our city, but it is difficult to say whether he hears everything that is said by his subjects, or sees everything they do, even within his own palace. He has so many things on his mind lately, it is impossible to know what he is doing. In the meanwhile, I say again that we have a few minutes before we meet him. It would not hurt to eat.”
Miltiades nodded and slowly took his seat again, eyes fixed on the tabletop. He picked up the yellow apple before him and regarded it solemnly. “Enough questions for now, then,” he said. “Let us enjoy our repast, then speak with the mage-king. I am sure we
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