R. Salvatore - Realms of Magic

Strong arms were suddenly around her, and the gruff voice of Khelben Blackstaff said into her ear, "I'm here, lass-stand back, young Ferentar, or I'll turn out the cesspit of your mind for all Waterdeep to see! — I'm here." Ambreene turned her face toward the comfort of that voice, and as she heard a gasp of outrage that could only be Berentha, Faerun spun crazily around her-and plunged into darkness…

She awoke in Blackstaff Tower, with Laeral's gentle hands holding out a mug of steaming rose tea. And from that day until the morning the gods willed that Ambreene Hawkwinter die, long years later, the Eye of the Dragon never left her breast.

King ran far ahead of me, pelting down the busy street in Raven's Bluff with the uncanny canine knack for navigating through a forest of human legs. I chased after him as well as I could, hindered by sharp elbows and stern reprimands from adults willing to forgive a running dog, but not a running boy.

"Rub!" called King. Voices from the crowd answered him as I tried to push toward him.

"King! There's a good boy."

"What a good dog!"

Everyone knew and liked King, one of the masterless street dogs of the city. Everyone had stories of the remarkable feats the old terrier had performed: saving drowning children, foiling pickpockets, tracking down criminals… This time I was the one who needed his help. My sister, Dauna, was in the hands of kidnappers, and King was the only one besides me who had seen them.

"King! Where are you?" I shouted. Scanning the street, I spotted King's wake, a wave of turned heads and quick sidesteps.

"Ruh, ruh!" His rough voice came through the open door of a little cottage. The building looked out of place next to the straight lines of the shops and taverns on Wicker Street. A carved board next to the door read, "The Barley Bowl."

"Huh, rub.!" he called again.

Then I heard a piteous sound: King's whining. I'd heard the old, gray terrier growl at bullies, woof amiably to his friends, and even yap like a puppy when chasing the other street dogs. But I'd never heard him whine in pain. It made my heart shrink, and I almost began to cry again. Instead, I wiped my blurry eyes and entered the inn.

Inside, a dozen people sat at simple tables, their dinners in wooden bowls before them. At the feet of one man, the oldest man I'd ever seen, sat King.

The old man held King's head with long, thin hands. Bright eyes peered into the dog's face. "Oh, you got a snootful, all right. What scoundrel played dirty with you?" The old man's voice was sweet and tremulous as a minstrel's hautboy.

"The oldest man I'd ever seen" had a beard as white and fine as a swan's wing. Upon his narrow frame he wore a faded blue robe cut in the fashion of the court of thirty years ago. The badge upon his breast looked impressive and official.

"Here, lad. Hold his head." I stared a moment before realizing he was talking to me. "Come along. If you were standing in cement, you'd be a lamp post now!"

"Good boy," I said to King, kneeling by him.

"Good boy," the old man said to me. If I weren't already so upset, I might have been offended. "Hold him while I administer the Universal Solvent."

A potion, I thought! After escaping, then chasing, and finally losing track of the men who took Dauna, we had found a wizard to help us. Wizards are often ornery, but once he had ensorcelled the pepper out of King's eyes and nose, I'd ask him a boon, and he would help save my sister.

But instead of producing some glimmering phial of magical fluid, the old man took his cup of water and gently poured it across King's weepy eyes. King balked, but I held him tight.

"There, my old friend. That should take the sting away.

Nothing like a little rain to clear out the gutters." King whimpered once more, this time less pathetically. He nuzzled the old man's hand.

"But you said 'Universal Solvent,' " I protested. "I thought you were a wizard." I knew it was wise to be polite to wizards, but my disappointment was quicker than my wits.

"And what's that, but water? Any mason worth his sand will tell you that. And I've been a wizard and a mason for longer than…" He drifted off, and his mouth worked wordlessly as he thought about it.

"I've run out of things to compare to my age," he decided. "Except perhaps for King."

"Are you King's master?" I asked.

"Oh, no. King's his own master. We're old, old friends. As you count in dog years, we're nearly cohorts." He chuckled, then sobered, as if the thought at first cheered, then saddened him. "Two old dogs of the city," he sighed.

"If you are a wizard, then you must help us. King tried to help me, but when the kidnappers went over the fence with Dauna, one threw pepper at him. Then…"

"Wait! Back to your drawing, boy."

"My what?"

"You can't build a house without a drawing," he said. "And you can't crave a favor without an introduction."

"Ohil'mJame."

"And I'm Ambassador Carrague. Well met, young Jame."

"Carrague! They said you died!" Father had read the obituary aloud from the Trumpeter, then griped about who would replace Carrague as city building inspector.

"Dead? Pish posh. Those fools couldn't tell the difference between a corpse and a handsaw. Merely sleeping! Good thing I woke before they'd boxed me up. Eh?" King nosed Carrague's leg impatiently.

"Ah, yes, yes. Dauna's been kidnapped, has she? Who is this Dauna?"

"Dauna's my sister. They tried to get me, too. But I was playing in the street, and King ran up barking when he saw them carrying her. That scared them off, but they held on to Dauna. King and I chased them."

"Why would someone kidnap her?"

"We're rich," I explained. "They want my father's money."

"Have your parents alerted the watch?"

"Father's returning from Sembia with silks and wine for sale. He won't be home for days. Mother died years ago. And Chesley-our steward-he doesn't believe anything I say! He thinks I'm just telling stories again. But King saw it all, and we nearly caught the kidnappers."

"But now they've given you the slip, eh?"

"Yes," I replied sadly. King growled in affirmation. "If I'd been faster, I could have seen where they went. But by the time King got under the fence and I climbed over, they were gone. King couldn't find their trail with his nose full of pepper."

"I daresay not. Even King has his limits." King looked up defensively at Carrague. "Now, now. There are just some things you're better built to do, King." The terrier looked miserable.

"If King were a man, he could have climbed that fence in no time. Then we'd have saved Dauna."

King's gaze turned to me, his red and weary eyes large and full wounded by my remark. His jaw dropped in a remarkably human expression of astonishment at a sudden attack from a friend.

"Oh, I didn't mean it that way, King. No man could have picked up their trail the way you did. You did the best you could, for a dog." King crossed his front paws and laid his head down with a whimper. I knew I'd said the wrong thing again. Something about King made you feel he understood your words, not just your tone.

"You don't know King's secret, then. Do you, Jame?"

"I know he's the smartest dog in Raven's Bluff! Why, he's saved people from drowning, foiled robbers and killers, too, and…" Now that I thought about it, even the smartest dog in the world couldn't do half the things King did.

"Oh, all that's true enough. But it's only the facade. There's a deeper story underneath. King's foundation, as it were."

"What's that?"

"Better to show you. That is, if King doesn't mind my telling his secret." Carrague looked down, as if expecting an answer. "It could be a way to help Jame's sister," he prompted.