Cormyr

Chapter 21: Spells and Politics

Year of the Gauntlet (1369 DR)

The Royal Magician’s eyebrows rose. “Impressive shielding spells,” he said, watching the three hired mages at work. Two were Calishites, whose sash symbols showed that they were both Exalted Masters in at least two schools of sorcery and the third was a Nimbran. By the looks of the rippling prismatic domes and spell-stop fields they were weaving around the room, any two of them could probably defeat him in a battle of spells. The house of Cormaeril spared no expense in seeing to the safety of its own… or in attempts to impress their Lord High Wizard.

The man he was here to meet inclined his head and smiled slightly-a smile that did not reach to his eyes, which were hard, black, and cold. “One can never be too careful,” he murmured and went on waiting, leaning casually against the wall.

One after another, each of the wizards signaled that his spells were complete. Vangerdahast’s host gave them each the same hand sign in return, and each sat down on a bench facing Vangerdahast, drawing out a pair of wands to hold ready. Their purpose was clear. If the Lord High Wizard didn’t keep to his best behavior during the interview ahead, he would not be Lord High anything for very long.

Vangerdahast smiled slightly, to let his host see that he’d understood the rather unsubtie point, and sat down on a solid bit of nothingness he’d conjured. That opened some eyes over on the bench, none of them had seen him do the necessary casting. Perhaps this old fool was mightier than they’d thought, their eyes seemed to say.

The old fool crossed his legs, leaned back with his behind resting on empty air, and said, “I’m sure you already know why I’m here.”

The cold-eyed young noble lazily pushed himself away from the wall with one boot and set down his slender tallglass of dragondew wine on the ornate table that bore the arms of his family.

“You’d like to proclaim yourself regent of Cormyr sometime during the next two days,” Gaspar Cormaeril replied coolly. “Or has the information reaching me been incorrect?”

“You’ve stated my aim,” Vangerdahast agreed. “I can, and shall probably have to, wait as long as six days or more.” He met Gaspar’s gaze and added, “To achieve this at all, however, I’ll need support. The support of prominent nobles… such as the house of Cormaeril.”

Cold eyes met his steadily. “I’m sure you’re used to a lot of coy and flowery speech, sir mage,” the young noble said, “but I’ve grown enamored of rather more direct talk these days-in particular, when every fleeting breath we take costs me coins.” He inclined his head toward the three watchful mages on the bench. Vangerdahast nodded and spread a hand, indicating that he should continue. The gesture caused at least three wands to lift warily.

Gaspar smiled thinly. “Know then that it is my intention to support you as regent of Cormyr, on a permanent basis if you desire, so long as you meet my conditions. I’m not one of those who hates or fears the idea of a mage-king, in fact, I consider that your lot have demonstrated wise and deft statecraft through the years and may save us all from a lot of the nonsense attendant on the vanity and, er, lustier side of the Obarskyr monarchs.”

Vangerdahast nodded. “I am pleased to hear this. May I know your conditions?”

Gaspar smiled again. “It is a pleasure to work with someone so… practical. My conditions are this: As regent, you must agree to work with a small council of nobles-a dozen or so, no more, whose initial membership I must approve. Have no fear of facing an outrageous roster. I realize, as I’m sure you will, the necessity of recognizing the noble families of Bleth, Cormaeril, Crownsilver, Dauntinghorn, Emmarask, Hawklin, Huntcrown, Huntsilver, Illance, Rowanmantle, and Truesilver.” He paused in his leisurely litany and turned to fix Vangerdahast with a direct gaze. The old wizard noticed that his position ensured that none of the mages on the bench would have any trouble firing both of their wands at Cormyr’s Lord High Wizard. “Before we proceed, tell me, my lord-do you have any essential dispute with this notion?”

“None,” Vangerdahast replied. “This-as outlined thus far, at least-corresponds with my own prior intention. No regent should attempt to rule without the direct aid and support of the people of the realm.”

The young Cormaeril nodded. “It is good to hear that. It is my intention that the families I’ve named-and I believe I could agree to one or two more, perhaps the Houses of Wintersun, Marliir, or Wyvernspur-be free to send any designate of their choice to sit on the council. Initially, of course, the heads of the houses will want to attend. Later on, I suspect that most will delegate this duty to more junior family members, or those who particularly enjoy intrigue.” Gaspar allowed another small smile that did not reach his eyes to cross his face and continued. “This council of nobles will advise you on all affairs and meet at least once a tenday-every third afternoon would seem to be more appropriate. You must agree to place all major matters of state before it, including any measure involving taxation, the war wizards, the Purple Dragons, envoys of the realm to external powers, and measures that alter the powers of the crown in any way. No royal business-or rather, the business that was formerly royal-is to bypass the council or be concealed from it.”

The Royal Magician of Cormyr nodded. “I agree. This is to be a voting council, I take it?”

Gaspar smiled thinly again. “It is, and by any majority vote, it will hold veto power over all decisions and decrees of the regent. All decisions, my lord.” His eyes flicked to the three wizards and back again, in another not-so-subtle warning.

Vangerdahast smiled politely. “So far this seems not unreasonable. I trust matters of scrutiny and reportage can be worked out in the council once we begin?”

Gaspar inclined his head. “Indeed. An integral part of council powers, in my view, will be the right of every sitting member to employ as personal bodyguard one mage of his own choosing, whose name and sigil will be known to you but whose other particulars will remain secret from the regent, the war wizards, other council members, and all other arms of state.”

Vangerdahast’s eyebrows rose. “On the surface, an understandable guarantee of autonomy, yet in the long run, I can see this as a grave source of trouble for the realm. You deem this wise?”

“I deem it necessary.” Gaspar’s calm was glacial. “Rest assured, sir mage, that none of my thinking in this has been hasty. Yet, prepare: I have not yet enunciated my two more unusual conditions.”

Vangerdahast almost smiled. The lad was uncanny in his maturity and cold-blooded poise but a young and excited boy underneath, nonetheless. “And these are?”

“You will intend all council meetings and have a vote. However-and this you will keep secret, revealing it to no one upon pain of death-your vote will always be cast as I, or another Cormaeril family representative acting in my stead, directs.”

“In other words, House Cormaeril will have two votes,” Vangerdahast said softly. “A public one and a private one.”

“Indeed,” the young noble replied. “The other condition must also remain secret, for obvious reasons, and also depends upon your ability to act convincingly. Although you must never betray this by your manner or words, you must place no credence in the counsel given by House Illance.”

“Chief among the current enemies of House Cormaeril,” Vangerdahast murmured. “Are there other conditions or details?”

Gaspar took up his glass again. “None. I take it you find these conditions somewhat more restrictive than you’d intended to place upon yourself?”

“A trifle,” Vangerdahast admitted, “and yet they are not unreasoned, nor are they unworkable if the council acts with alacrity. May I in turn demand that no council member-including, I suppose, myself-have the power to delay votes by absence or protest, and that any efforts to delay decisions require at least a two-thirds majority?”

Gaspar frowned slightly, then said, “I think that provision is reasonable enough. You need a council that cannot bring the business of the realm to a halt out of spite or internal bickering.”

Vangerdahast nodded. “I do.”

“I agree to that, then,” Gaspar replied. He sipped at his wine and added, “Of course, no mention of this meeting or our agreements must ever pass your lips, or-” He inclined his head meaningfully towards the wizards on the bench.

“I have been the essence of tact for some years, sir,” Vangerdahast replied gravely, “and fully understand such things.”

Gaspar smiled, looking very like a satisfied snake, and said, “You’re now wondering just how you can evade these conditions, or whether you need the support of the Cormaerils at all, given this rather steep price for your title. Know, sir mage, that I have been very busy over the last few days-and, in other ways, for some time before that-in discreet inquiries among certain of my fellow nobles. Be advised that I have seen to it that the major houses I have mentioned-beyond, perhaps, the three royal houses, which will tend to prefer the crown princess on the throne to any sort of regency-will never support you unless you agree to my conditions. You can abandon all thought of formal rule. I predict that the crown princess will shortly banish you from the realm, for she has been soliciting support for such a decree from my house and others. Or you can be regent, but only under my terms.”

“It certainly sounds as if you’ve fully prepared for this, ah, discussion,” Vangerdahast said mildly. “I hope you won’t be overly offended if I express my surprise that so young and hitherto nonprominent member of the Cormaerils should hold such power within his house. Can you really speak for your entire large and far-flung family?”

Gaspar gave the Royal Magician his serpent smile again and replied with a question of his own. “I presume you are acquainted with both Ohlmer Cormaeril and Sorgar Illance?”

Vangerdahast nodded. Ohlmer was an outwardly respectable patriarch of House Cormaeril, given to kidnappings within the realm for the purposes of slavery illicit smuggling dealings with pirates, and the mistreatment of young female slaves who came within his reach. Sorgar Illance was a cruel ex-adventurer, now balding and bitter as well as cynical and cultured, who’d risen to become head of House Illance, a position that had not slowed his compulsive thefts and love of slaying men in brawls. “I know rather more about both men than I care to,” he remarked carefully.

Gaspar smiled once more. “Then you will probably not be overly distressed to learn that both will die mysteriously tonight. I shall take no part in it, you may observe my revels, if you wish, at the newly opened Cormaeril Club dining hall. Await the news… and come morning, you’ll see how effectively Gaspar Cormaeril can rule the House of Cormaeril.”

Vangerdahast raised an eyebrow. “I’d not be upset to hear of such… unfortunate demises, yet I’d be concerned for any noble in Cormyr who might begin to fall too much in love with boldness, and so start off on the trail that leads, sooner or later, to overstepping oneself. Too many nobles dying would be suspicious, my friend.”

Gaspar shrugged. “Whereas overmuch caution, as practiced by the incumbent heads of all our noble houses, leads to bitter, building resentment and unrest and the slow decline of the realm into the chaos we face today.”

The man was as cool as the depths of an icy cave. The Royal Magician raised one last warning. “Whenever kin die violently, there arises the dreadful prospect that one could awaken to find his family torn apart in clan strife, as has indeed happened before to those who have forced their fellows to choose between blood and country.”

Gaspar set down his empty glass gently and came to stand over the Lord High Wizard for the first time. He looked down.

“Far worse fates can befall a kingdom,” the young Cormaeril said softly and menacingly, “when its senior families have long reaches, deep pockets, and surprising allies.”

And with those grand words, Gaspar turned on his heel and strode away, gesturing to his hired wizards. The two Calishites rose and faced Vangerdahast with leveled wands, while the Nimbran hastily sheathed the two he held and brought down the shielding spells.

The Calishites looked at Vangerdahast with open contempt. “This realm of Cormyr must be barbaric indeed if one fat old man with such paltry magic can be its titled high mage,” one remarked loudly. The other chuckled.

Their chuckles died abruptly, an instant later, when Vangerdahast stood up and made a rather rude gesture and the two mages suddenly found themselves surrounded by a ring of over thirty identical Vangerdahasts, all of whom licked their fingers, made another leisurely impolite movement, and then waved a cheerful farewell before fading away.

Vangerdahast faded back into solidity elsewhere-the Tower of the Balconies at the front of the royal court, to be precise-just in time to look out of its windows and down into the courtyard to see Gaspar Cormaeril saunter out of the Dragon Door and stop to talk with Aunadar Bleth.

The two greeted each other as old friends and chatted casually. The young Bleth reached into his pocket and pressed something into Cormaeril’s hand. From a distance, it appeared to be a large crystal, the color of sunset, or perhaps a small decanter or large piece of jewelry. Long reaches, deep pockets, and surprising allies, thought the wizard.

“Long reaches, deep pockets, and surprising allies,” Vangerdahast said quietly to the unhearing figure below, “and far worse fates indeed.”