Lies of Light

37

30 Marpenoth, the Yearof the Staff (1366 DR) The Thayan Enclave, Innarlith

"Ransar,” Marek Rymiit said with a flourish, “welcome to Thayan soil.”

Salatis’s eyes narrowed at that, though he’d agreed to it already. He stepped in and pasted a smile on his face. As he looked around at the glass cases filled with artifacts and unusual curios of the most exotic sort, he clasped a hand around a pendant that hung from a heavy gold chain around his neck.

“Azuth…” Marek commented with a lift of one eyebrow. “Really?”

Salatis cleared his throat, took his hand away from the holy symbol, and said, “The High One’s wisdom has entered my life of late, yes.”

Marek smiled and stepped deeper into the showroom, making way for the ransar. Salatis followed, his expression alternating between fear, confusion, and longing as he went from case to case. He stopped at one, the echo of his footsteps pinging from the marble floor to the pounded lead ceiling.

“This…” Salatis said, looking down at a glass case that contained an ornately-crafted brass horn. “What is this?”

“Ah,” Marek replied. “You have a good eye, Ransar. That is a horn of blasting.” “A horn of…?”

“It’s a wonderfully crafted piece, isn’t it?” Marek said, stepping behind the ransar and laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Heavy, I suppose. Not… subtle… but beautiful in its own way.”

“What does it do?”

Marek laughed, took his hand away from Salatis’s shoulder, and set it on the glass. “There’s someone I know of that would very much like to have this, I’m sure.”

Salatis shook his head.

Marek sighed and continued, “People who hear its voice are laid lownot killed, mind you, but they don’t like it too much. It has a tendency to loosen soil, as well, and even… dig holes.”

Salatis nodded and let a grin spread across his face.

“But he’ll never have it, will he?” Marek said.

“He’s getting gold from the king of Cormyr, of all people,” Salatis replied. “If indeed you mean to offer these things for sale, what’s to stop him from buying it?”

“Me,” said Marek.

“Well…” the ransar started, then finally figured out that Marek would decide who bought what, when, and for what reason. “And your superiors in Thay are comfortable with that? I mean, what if he came here with… five thousand gold pieces?”

“Well, first off,” Marek replied, “he’d be seven thousand short.” He gave the ransar a look that he hoped would tell him the rest, and by Salatis’s response, it was enough. “I wonder to what extent King Azoun believes he can meddle in the affairs of an independent city-state.”

The ransar’s lips tightened, and his face paled. “He vexes me.”

“He wants that canal built,” the Red Wizard said as he crossed to another case. He looked down at the Wand of the Ten Magesa one-of-a-kind piece there more for display than anything. Only one of the ten mages who’d collaborated in its creation could wield it, and they had all been dead for six centuries. “He wants his merchants to trade directly with Waterdeep, Baldur’s Gate, and so on, without their caravans being picked apart by Zhents and ores.”

“He’ll pay a hefty toll too,” the ransar said trying to make himself believe it.

“Will he?” Marek asked. “For the use of a canal he paid to build? And will he pay you, or will he pay the nagas?”

Salatis frowned and said, “It’s gotten out of control, hasn’t it?”

“My dear, dear Ransar,” said Marek as he moved to yet another case. He looked down at the weapon insidea ghost touch halfspear that made him think of Phyrea. “This is your city now, and nothing to do with it is outside your control. At worst, all you have to do is rely on your friends, and you do have friends. The realms of the Old Empires, Tethyr, the Zhentarim, even the Emerald Enclave and my own homeland have made their opinions known. Cormyr and Arrabar, and even petty city-states like Raven’s Bluff, are not to be taken lightly, to be sure, but neither are those aligned against it.”

Salatis took a deep breath and said, “You know that I know that I owe my ascendancy to you, Master Rymiit. You know that I have agreed to this enclave of yours, agreed to your three laws, agreed to… other things. But the canal will be good for Innarlith. It can be, anyway, and by all accounts he’ll be able to do it. You’ve tried to kill him, so has Nyla, and others I don’t even know of. I’ve sent black firedrakes against him myself, but nothing. If you tell me I must stop the canal from being built I will do my best to do that, but you should be warned that my best may not be entirely up to the task. There are other Realms involved now, all more powerful than our humble city-state. I could lose more than just the canal, but the city itself, should I push too hard in the wrong places.”

It was Marek’s turn to take a deep breath. Salatis could barely look at him.

“Well, then,” said Marek, “let’s put it out there then, shall we?”

“Please do.”

“It would benefit me to sell the means to travel from here to the Sea of Fallen Stars through the use of magic, but it could also benefit me to finish the canal, also through magical means. The only reason the canal is still being dug is that Devorast refuses to be killed. But you… all along you’ve had the power to stop it without killing him, or finish it without keeping him. Send the foreign workers away. Despite your fears, even Azoun won’t march to war over this hole in the ground, especially if he’s reassured that it will still be built. He can keep the trade bars flowing, for all that, but to mewith a generous return to my esteemed patron, of course”and he winked at the ransar”and not that arrogant bastard. Give it up, Salatis, or give it to me.”

Salatis must have realized that his mouth had been hanging open in a most unflattering way, and he clacked his lips together.