Thomas Reid - The Emerald Scepter

At that moment, all went to chaos. Falagh flung his glassful of beverage at Grozier's face. As the man threw up his hands to ward off the attack, Falagh grabbed a dagger from inside his tunic and raised it high, ready to plunge it into Grozier's back. Grozier, stunned by the sudden attack, shouted in pain and staggered away, pawing at his eyes.

Bartimus opened his mouth to shout a warning, then changed his mind and decided on a quick spell to hurl at Falagh, then changed his mind once more and began reaching for a wand he had hidden away, but he was not fast enough. The Mestel scion leaped forward and plunged the blade squarely into his foe's back. Grozier grunted and arched his back, but instead of penetrating the man's flesh, the dagger glanced off to the side with an audible clank.

Falagh stared at the dagger in surprise as Grozier whirled on him, pulling a dagger of his own. "Fool," Talricci sneered, waving his blade in front of himself, threatening his opponent. "You're not the first coward who's tried to plunge a blade into my spine."

Ah, Bartimus remembered, the ring I crafted for him. I forgot about that.

The two men crouched, both their expressions grim, but before the skirmish could truly begin, Lobra pounced. Bartimus thought she would go for Grozier, expecting that she was attempting to aid her husband, but instead, she grabbed Falagh by the arm and flung him sideways, twisting his wrist as she did so and forcing him to drop the weapon. The woman's strength was remarkable, and Falagh smacked into a tapestry-covered wall head-first, then slumped to the ground with a groan.

Bartimus stared in amazement, wondering why the woman would turn on her own husband. Lobra began to shift, becoming the changling in its natural form. The wizard smiled, feeling the fool. "Very clever," he said.

At that moment, a Pharaboldi House guard entered the room, perhaps to see what the commotion was about. Upon witnessing the violence taking place, he yanked his sword free and began screaming for reinforcements as he took a step forward.

Avoiding his previous hesitation, Bartimus withdrew a small crystal rod from a pocket inside his robes. The hollow rod was filled with glowing moss that gave off a very faint greenish light. Bartimus gestured rapidly at the guard with the crystalline object. A swirling, undulating curtain of colors sprang up, catching the man in its midst when he put one foot in the room. The shimmering coalescence writhed in place, filling the doorway. The guard stopped and stood still, staring dumbfounded at the colors surrounding him.

Bartimus slipped the rod back into its protective pocket and turned toward Grozier, who was wiping his eyes with the hem of his doublet. The wizard moved to the man and muttered, "We must leave right now," hoping the shapeshifter would help him convince Grozier of the prudence of departure.

A gasp and a cry of dismay sounded out in the hall, and Bartimus turned his attention that way once more. Two more guards stood mesmerized in the middle of the swirling curtain of color, enraptured with the shifting veil all around them. On the far side of it, unable to circumvent the enchantment, three others watched in dismay. One of them spun and ran in the opposite direction.

"Wizard!" the guard yelled at the top of his lungs as he disappeared. "I need a wizard right now!"

Bartimus, knowing they were running out of time, turned back just in time to spy his employer plunging Falagh's own dagger into the downed man's back. Mestel jerked and cried out, shuddering. Grozier stood over the man, a sneer on his mien, and raised the blade high for another blow.

"No time!" Bartimus shouted, already preparing the last of the magical doorways at his disposal. "The whole House is coming!" And with that, he conjured the blue, shimmering portal.

Out in the hall someone shouted, and Bartimus glanced over long enough to see that his swirling halo of magical light had vanished. The guards who had been ensnared in its effects were regaining their bearings, and the rest pushed past them, trying to get into the room and at the perpetrators. The wizard scurried to his blue doorway.

Not waiting, he thought, as he launched himself at the portal.

Grozier gave a quick kick at Falagh, snapping the man's head sideways, just as the shapeshifter grabbed him and hustled him toward the magical exit. All three of them reached it at the same time. They plunged as one through the passage, which vanished just as three guards closed in on it.

When Darvin arrived at the Generon, it took him a few minutes to track down Eles. Though the Sammardach celebration had dwindled to small groups of partygoers gathered in nooks and crannies of the palace, talking earnestly, it still took the assassin some time to wander through the halls, searching. Periodically he would stop and ask guards if they had seen their lord about. He finally caught up with the man standing on a balcony on a high level of the palace, looking out over the gardens and into the warm, humid night.

Lavant was there already, and the look on the high priest's face told Darvin that they already knew at least part of the situation in Reth.

Darvin strolled up to the two men and cleared his throat. Lavant looked up with annoyance clear on his face, but when he saw who it was, his frown changed to a gleeful smile. "Have you heard?" the Grand Syndar asked, almost chortling. "It's begun."

"Yes," Darvin said, nodding. "I just came from there. But all is not shiny and wonderful in dear Reth," he said. "We have a problem."

"What problem?" Eles Wianar said, turning and scowling. "Now is not the time for problems."

Darvin took a deep breath. He did not relish bringing such unpleasant news to the most powerful man in Arrabar. "Rodolpho is not being as cooperative as we would like." Then he shook his head. With others, he could deliver bad news in a roundabout way, smooth the edges, sugarcoat the nuggets. But with Eles, it was better just to speak plainly. He had a way of seeing exactly what others did not want him to see. "He made the plague too virulent," Darvin explained, "and refused to create a cure. He apparently still harbors some resentment over his forced involvement with your plans."

Lavant clucked his tongue. "Not surprising," the high priest said. "There are ways around that. I can formulate a cure in a matter of hours. I'm sure of it."

Darvin shook his head, not so sure. "It may be too late in a matter of hours " he replied. "Half the city is engulfed in flames, and bodies are rising on the streets before they're even cold."

That description wiped the largest portion of Lavant's smile from his face. "Truly?" he said, his voice less exuberant than it had been before.

Darvin nodded. "As I said, I was just there moments ago. I saw it myself. And Rodolpho was painfully clear about his intentions."

"I'm sure he was," Eles said, though the tone of his voice was not terribly humorous. "He was the one biggest wrinkle in my plan," the Shining Lord mused. "I thought he might be reticent about cooperating. Twelve years is a long time."

Darvin started to ask Eles why he had chosen his cousin if he had had misgivings, but he thought better of it. Instead, he said, "In the interests of preventing a total disaster, I took the liberty of redirecting some of our forces a little earlier than we had planned. I had Havalla turn some of his troops around and lay siege to Reth. Maybe that way, we can contain the plague as long as necessary to devise a solution."

Lavant made a slightly strangled sound. "Why do you keep taking it upon yourself to change things without consulting us?" he demanded. "You may have just ruined our chances of swooping in at the right time."

Darvin shook his head again. "Trust me, there will be plenty for you and your temple troops to clean up. Even with that change, it may not be enough to keep the disease localized. All of Reth may be a graveyard or worse by morning."