Dave Gross: Lord of Stormweather

The assassin fell motionless into the water.

Tamlin kept his distance, looking around for a mirror. He hoped Chaney could relay some confirmation of the kill. At last he found a basin and looked into it, searching for the ghost's reflection.

Chaney arrived an instant later, grinning and mouthing the words, Out cold.

"My lord," cried a guard from the solar door. Six other men crowded behind him, anxious for battle. "The reinforcements have come with spears."

"No more need," said Tamlin. He turned to see Cale standing with Tazi in his arms. "Send a runner to the House of Song. We have need of healers, but don't wait for them-see to my sister's injuries immediately."

"Aye, my lord," the guard said. He delegated the orders to one of his men, who immediately ran out of the room, then he turned back to Tamlin. "What of the wolf?"

"Leave him to me," said Tamlin.

One look at the snarling animal told him it would be no easier to subdue his brother than it was to neutralize Radu Malveen. He thought of his vision in the Stormweather nexus. Talbot's death was the one sure remedy to the dire prophecy he'd seen. Tamlin might never have a better chance to remove his dangerous brother from the family.

No, he decided. Should the vision prove true, he would deal with it when the time came. He wouldn't stoop to preemptive fratricide, no matter how dangerous Talbot might someday become.

"On second thought," he said. "Send for Larajin, and let no one else near him until she arrives."

He uttered the words to another spell and reached into the pond with his magic. Radu's body floated up from the water, his head lolling to one side, his lips and eye sockets pink and swollen. The faintest movement of his chest showed that the assassin still lived.

"What shall we do with this one?" asked the guard.

The man did a credible job of retaining his composure in the face of his young master's sudden demonstration of sorcerous powers. Tamlin decided to keep an eye on the fellow for future advancement.

"What's your name, man?"

"Kainan, my lord."

"Well, Kainan, fetch me some shackles," he said. "Heavy ones, and plenty of them. Post a double guard in the big workshop downstairs. Clear out the furniture. I will desire some privacy during our conversation."

"I still say this is too dangerous," said Talbot.

"Too late to back out now," said Tamlin. "If you're so frightened, you should have left with the servants."

Talbot growled at him and said, "I'm thinking about Tazi. You saw how she looked last night."

"Speak for yourself, big little brother," said Tazi. "Underneath that pelt of yours, you were plenty bruised."

"I didn't mean anything by it," said Talbot. "I was just concerned about putting you and Larajin in dan-"

"You are my dearest friend, Tal," said Larajin, "but do shut up."

"Now, now, children," said Shamur. Her voice carried far more authority since it came from everywhere and nowhere. Tamlin might have enjoyed watching the effect her disembodied command had on Talbot and Tazi if he didn't already know her reasons for speaking to them from the Stormweather nexus. "Stop your quarreling and listen to Tamlin. He is head of the family, now."

"That's another thing-" began Talbot.

"Son," interjected Thamalon. Like Shamur, he spoke from the refuge of the nexus. His voice was hale and warm, belying the truth that only Tamlin knew. "Remember your promise to me."

Talbot sighed and said, "Yes, Father."

"What promise?" asked Tamlin.

He'd hoped that his father's confidence in him meant that no more secrets would be kept from him. Apparently, that had been a vain hope.

"They're here," said Cale.

"How do you know that?" demanded Tamlin, dimly aware that he'd been purposefully distracted from his question.

"My lord, it is my duty to know."

Tamlin thought he heard his father chuckle. He sighed.

"Places, everyone," he said. "Is our guest comfortable up there?"

The guard Kainan leaned over the rail of one of the balconies on the second floor. He waved and nodded before glancing back at the unseen occupant of the seat behind him. Tamlin sketched a salute, and Kainan faded back into the shadows.

Larajin and Tazi took their spots beside Tamlin at the head of the table. Talbot leaped up to the balcony overlooking the feast hall, fifteen feet above the floor. He landed as lightly as a dancer, but the balcony creaked under his weight. Cale simply vanished.

A few moments later, the herald announced that the guests had arrived. Tamlin nodded his permissions back to the man. As the first of the visitors filed into the hall, he flicked a speck of imaginary dust from the arm of his chair. He affected an air of boredom as the Talendar, Karn, and Baerent representatives filed into the feast hall and stood behind their places. Uskevren servants held their chairs for them as they sat.

A few of them cast inquiring glances at Tamlin's odd appearance. He'd briefly considered shaving the strange beard his grandfather had left him, but ultimately he kept it. He'd also retained Aldimar's vermilion cloak as well as a wide belt of pouches and pockets full of spell materials and foci. Alas, none of the new affectations was particularly fashionable.

Presker Talendar cast an inquiring glance toward the head of the table. The normally cool nobleman appeared anxious, and he fidgeted with his great emerald ring.

Tamlin retained his disaffected attitude until Saclath Soargyl arrived with his nephew Brimmer. As they entered the room, Tamlin fairly bolted from his seat, grasping their hands in both of his as each party raced to bow lower over the other's hands. It all ended messily in a series of awkward embraces and how-good-of-you-to-comes, then there was an icy moment in which Brimmer lurched forward to kiss Tazi's hand. Tamlin watched the vein pulsing under her eye as she suppressed her own urge to throttle both men.

At last, the heads of the Old Chauncel took their places. Andeth Ilchammar made his entrance with his familiar Drakkar at his side and a trail of guards in black tabards. By custom, no noble House carried weapons into the hall of its host, the exception granted only to the Hulorn. His men took positions on either side of his seat at the other end of the table. Behind him, a wide alcove full of windows looking out onto Selgaunt Bay was shrouded in draperies. No one from outside would spy on the day's proceedings.

"Welcome, my lord mayor," called Tamlin. He raised his goblet to toast the guest of honor. "May Waukeen bless our proceedings, and may Helm keep all good folk from harm so long as they dwell within our walls."

Tamlin tasted the ceremonial mead, careful not to drink more than a sip. He'd been so fraught with adversity the past tendays that he had no time to appreciate the distractions from his longing pangs for a drink. He had to make an effort not to drink deeply to calm his nerves. His plan for the coming meeting was far from infallible.

His guests murmured their approval of his toast. When they set their cups down, the business began.

"Our convocation today-" began Tamlin. He wasn't the least bit surprised when the Hulorn stood to interrupt his speech.

"Our business here is treason," said Andeth Ilchammar, throwing his cape off one shoulder in a dramatic flourish. "Or rather, the rooting out of traitors in our midst. We come here to judge an accusation so dire that only the sage heads of the Old Chauncel can condone its measure."

Tamlin watched to see which of the "sage heads" nodded approvingly of the Hulorn's words. Fat Saclath was the loudest, which was no surprise. Brimmer looked confused and stupid, which was no great feat.

Presker and the heads of the other Houses on Thamalon's list of conspirators cast their eyes at the head of the table. Tamlin wondered whether they were looking for a savior or a scapegoat.