Alusair was snarling, more anger than fear on her face, but one of her arms dangled uselessly, shattered somewhere below the elbow. The other was plying a dagger as fast as she could, keeping those deadly coils from her throat, but a dozen snakelike arms were already tightening around her, and she was being bent back like a straining bow.
In a moment, Maerlyn knew, he would hear Alusair's spine make the same sound that her arm had.
"Caladnei!" the princess cried. "Aid! Aid, unless you want to be regent, too!"
Tightening tentacles slapping around her breast, she had breath left only for a scream of rage and pain.
Gods, yes, Caladnei! He was supposed to be Maerlyn whirled back toward the Mage Royal, bringing the cloak up again-but Caladnei, her eyes two dark flames of fury, was rising from a hastily-clawed-open drawer with a wand in her hand, shouting something.
A beam of flame scorched across the room so swiftly that the air made a sound like parchment being torn- and the black, glistening shape exploded in a rain of gore and tangled tentacles, flinging the Steel Regent over a couch and away.
There would be time to make sure of her later. His task remained clear before him. Maerlyn flung the useless cloak aside with a snarl and snatched out his blade-in time to see Ilryn Merendil, a soft smile on his face, slash aside Caladnei's vainly-warding hand with a vicious sword cut, and bring his slim, bright steel around in an elegant thrust that plunged right through the Mage Royal's midriff-to emerge, glistening, from her back.
Her eyes widened in astonishment and agony, Maerlyn Bleth grew a smile of his own as he stepped forward in a perfect thrust and made his own hole in yielding flesh, crossing his blade over Merendil's to come out the witch's side and pin her arm.
Caladnei reeled, and her eyes found his-eyes awash in pain and sadness and regret. Trembling lips drooled blood, and gasped, "Throne."
The word seemed to rush away across the room, echoing as if across vast distances-and to roar back into a thunderclap that shook the Chamber of Frostfire Candles. There was someone else in the room-a man Maerlyn had never seen before. He was tall and very thin, wore robes of strange cut and dark but shimmering hue, and his skin was the color of smoke. His eyes seemed almost milky-white as he glanced at the dying woman and at Maerlyn and Merendil. Almost lazily he raised one hand. and it seemed to the astonished noble that shadows clung to it, somehow; shadows that shouldn't have been there, in all this lamplight.
The man smiled a cold, unlovely smile, and something bright blue and bubbling sprang out of his empty palm, washing over Cormaeril and Merendil and-Maerlyn himself!
The youngest son of House Bleth felt a moment of intense cold, and a burning that rose savagely to choke him-and as the world slowly went dark and he stared at the exposed bones of his own sword arm, Maerlyn felt nothing at all.
Done. The mind-voice was calm and triumphant and somehow sneering, Caladnei thought, through the red claws of agony, as the wizard of shadows watched her sag back against a couch with two swords through her. She struggled to reach out a hand to him, and he calmly watched her efforts, smiled that cruel smile, waved a hand, and was gone as if he had never been.
Despairing, Caladnei let the pain take her, shuddering around the swords whose sharp points would not let her lie back against the splendid upholstery and rest.
So this is what it feels like to die…
There was noise, fast approaching, an uneven running that ended in a skidding crash into one end of the couch. Spitting blood as the world darkened around her, the Mage Royal felt no pain from that jarring-nothing more than the raging wall of agony that was bearing down, crushing her.
Silver flashed in front of her nose, and soothing fire passed her lips.
"Caladnei!" a voice hissed.
The Mage Royal struggled to focus, to see the face of the princess. Alusair dashed a second healing potion down her throat-gods, but it felt good-and set one booted foot against Caladnei's breast and pulled.
Coming out, the blade tugged the Mage Royal half upright, and if she'd thought she'd tasted pain before, she knew better now. Steel rang and clattered far down the room-Alusair must have just flung the blade away over her shoulder-and without pause the princess bent forward and snatched out the second sword.
Someone very near was shrieking in agony, a raw and horrible sound, and as Caladnei writhed and shuddered on the couch, biting her lips and tongue uncontrollably, she very much feared that it was her.
The pain-creased face of the princess was in front of hers again.
"Hold on, Mage," Alusair was snarling, as Caladnei shrank back from the light and noise and pain, drifting down toward the dark.
"You're one of us now," the princess roared, "and Cormyr needs you! Don't you die on me! I so much wanted to gallivant around and have adventures while my father ruled over a placid realm of ever-richer farmers and nobles so adrip with gems that they tossed handfuls of them to their servants… but somehow I'm not surprised that the gods had other ideas. If there's to be a Cormyr tomorrow-without Vangerdahast-I need you. Cormyr needs you! Damn you, Caladnei!"
Strong fingers shook Caladnei like a rag doll, but it аll seemed so far away.
Alusair whirled away from the Mage Royal's body and sprinted across the room, shouting at the pains that stabbed through her legs and ribs and shattered arm with each step, until she reached a statuette crowning a mantelpiece-a sculpted likeness of a Purple Dragon.
"Blast you, Vangerdahast," she sobbed, snatching it from its perch and wincing her way back down the room, "this had better not have been one of your sly lies!"
With trembling fingers she snatched one of the enchanted rings off the hand at the end of her broken arm-on her knees and gasping with pain by the time she got it off-and thrust it into one of her open wounds, tearing at her flesh until oozing blood ran freely again.
Tucking the statuette into the crook of her good arm, the Steel Princess reached up to hold the ring in her wound, reeled to her feet, and lowered herself as gently as she could atop Caladnei's limp body. They were going to slide off this bloody couch together, if she didn't.
Grimly Alusair fumbled the purple dragon-one of three in all Faerun, if Vangy had told her truth-into her good hand, raised herself awkwardly with her broken arm grinding into her dying friend, and the ring held there in her own gore, and smashed the statuette against the back of the couch with all the strength she had left. It took two sobbing blows before the thing broke. Weeping, Alusair brought the jagged fragment still in her hand around-and stabbed herself with it, right into the ring. It had been trailing blue fire. So the old wizard hadn't lied, and this just might Blue flames burst through her, like fire and ice, cooling and soothing. The pain was gone!
Alusair shuddered as cleansing power raced through her, and-and-gods, Caladnei! Swiftly, ere it ebbed!
She fell forward again and kissed whatever bare skin she could find-Caladnei's left cheek, as it happened, just beneath one staring eye-and held herself rigid to be sure their contact did not end. With tantalizing slowness, almost lazily, the healing magic stole out of her, washed back into her, and rippled into the Mage Royal and stayed there.
The body beneath hers jumped, spasming and moaning gently and trying to rise. Alusair held her down, clawing at the carved back of the couch to hold herself in place as Caladnei sobbed, shuddered, and gasped, "Princess? Alusair?"
The Steel Regent smiled then and let go her grasp to start the slow slide toward the floor.
Tingling, all pain wondrously banished, Caladnei lifted her head to look around, through swimming eyes- as Glarasteer Rhauligan stepped smilingly into the room with his drawn sword raised and ready, and Laspeera looking over one shoulder, and Vangerdahast peering over the other.