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huge chunks of plaster, riven wood, dust and tumbling stone all around Roldro. The
room rocked, and its pretty oval skylight vanished forever into tinkling shards. A
much larger window was left behind in its place: The entire top of the chamber
gaped open to the misty Marsemban sky.
The song dragon was soaring up into the blueness above the city-stink and
heading northward, flying fast and furiously.
Roldro stopped holding his breath, gasped for air and promptly started
coughing furiously. He was covered in thick dust and could hear faint shouts from
below as guards and servants wondered aloud of the gods what had happened.
Ammaratha Cyndusk was already no more than a tiny, dwindling dot. Roldro
struggled across the room, scooped up one of her jewel-coffers as the first
installment of his payment, and started searching for the way into the secret passage
he knew departed this room from the westernmost closet. Crooked stewards he
could handle but crooked stewards commanding a dozen or more furious and
well-armed guards might well be another matter.
"May you find fair fortune, Ammaratha," he whispered, between coughs. "If I
could turn into a dragon, I'd not go roaring openly down on Vangerdahast unless I
was seeking my own swift death."
There was a decanter of wine on a shelf in the closet, and the last of the
Tattershars decided to take it with him and banish his coughing the enjoyable way.
The panel gave him some trouble, for the wall above it was buckled and sagging . . .
but he got it closed behind him a good two hearty swigs before the furious pounding
on the retiring-room door began.
"How dare he!" the song dragon roared into the wind of her own furious flight.
"How dare he!"
She ducked one shoulder and turned a little westward without slowing, cleaving
the air so fast that breathing was hard and her wings hummed and hissed in their
battle with the air.
"Such an insult to all dragonkind! Such colossal arrogance! Even if some wyrms
submit willingly to ages-long slumber and eventual perilous service, the wizard's plan
endangers us all! Once Vangerdahast has developed binding spells that work on
dragons, anyone who steals them or acquires them after his passing can use them
against any dragon!"
Her voice was ear-splitting, but the heedless skies made no reply. With a snarl of
seething fury she ducked her head and beat her wings in earnest, darting furiously on
toward the green vast-ness of the King's Forest.
On to the sanctum where the villain Vangerdahast was lurking.
Nineteen
DRAGONRAGE AND DECEPTION
Deceit and falsehood wound me more deeply than mere daggers poisoned or
not. Thy tolerance may, of course, differ.
Selemvarr of Pyarados,
"The Old Red Wizard"
My Century of Might and Folly:
A Career In Robes of Red
Year of the Gauntlet
Outside the kitchen there was a mighty crash, and someone screamed. The ground
shook, setting the lanterns to swinging, and Myrmeen started for the window in a
wary crouch, blade drawn.
Vangerdahast did not look up from his spell. "Not now" he snapped. "How am I
ever goin "
"Vangerdahast" the Lady Lord of Arabel snapped, "get over
here! There's a dragon digging out your sanctum like a dog hunting for bones!"
"Eh? A wyrm? Excellent! I can try my "
"I doubt either of the two War Wizards it's just flung away over the trees would
agree with that 'excellent' of yours," Myrmeen interrupted crisply. "And I doubt this
sword of mine will do much more than amuse our unexpected guest! I've never seen
this sort of dragon silver blue, but with the shape of a copper wyrm. . . ."
Vangerdahast made a small sound of exasperated annoyance, abandoned his spell
with a dismissive wave of his hands, and strode to the window.
"A song dragon! Well, now!" He rubbed his hands together. "I wonder how her
human form strikes the eye?"
Myrmeen gave him a strange look at about the same time as the massive tail
outside swung toward the window in a suddenly looming slap. The windows
crashed in, riven spells bursting into crawling fingers of lightning that wrestled with
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