Ed Greenwood - Never a Warpig Born

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Never a Warpig Born

Ed Greenwood

Áèáëèîòåêà Çàáûòûõ Êîðîëåâñòâ (http://frealms.ru)

Though few in the Sembian capital of Ordulin had the slightest inkling that the Red Wizards of

Thay desired to establish an enclave in their fair city, all Ordulin was aware that some wealthy, finely

dressed outlanders had been asking certain property owners if they'd be interested in selling this building

or that -- in exchange for ready coin, in plenty.

The typical Sembian response to such an offer is to narrow the eyes, rub the hands together

thoughtfully, and to wonder how high a price might be commanded before the desire to own

down-at-heel Ordulin acreage is outstripped by limited funds or open disgust at such greed. But then,

such behavior is but the Sembian way, and what other places in Faerûn matter but glittering Sembia?

Other Sembian ways have to do with etiquette, the display of wealth, and fine food and drink.

Wherefore one night in early fall, when the chill was just beginning to nip in the air, a coach of truly

enormous size and ostentation of ornament drew up before the lantern-lit front steps of Hallowmere

House, and four men in fine robes got out.

Lady Hallowmere was not to be met in town, no matter how many coins the Red Wizards

proffered or doors they murmured at. However, a solid tenday of such inquiries produced the

nigh-magical appearance of glittering gilt-penned invitations at abodes the Red Wizards had thought

secret. The golden words invited them to eveningfeast at Hallowmere House.

They journeyed to the countryside not far west of the city. Silently singing shielding spells

surrounded bodies so a-bristle with magical rings and wands and bracers and codpieces as to nearly

glow. Good food they'd enjoyed in plenty in their lives, and could find at will; moreover, venturing into

possible danger held little attraction. However, Lady Hallowmere owned a generous three blocks of

warehouses, shops, coach houses, stables, and rather crumbling walled mansions in the very heart of

Ordulin that would be ideal for the Thayan enclave.

"No scrying spells nor probes," one of the wizards murmured to his superior. They watched a

dark-uniformed man with the wrinkles and silver hair of fine old age, but the rippling physique of a titan

among warriors, come down those broad steps toward them. "My spells are certain of that."

The Thayans gazed up the steps past the approaching man. The old stone mansion -- huge,

many-turreted, and flanked by many tall, dark trees -- looked as ready to crumble as its owner's in-town

holdings. It was small wonder no one stood on those balconies watching them. What they could see of

the walled gardens, behind, looked like an enclosed slice of wild forest.

"However," the murmuring man added, "there are strong shieldings on the gate guards and this

seneschal -- and he doesn't look anything like the man I was told was Hallowmere's seneschal."

The Red Wizard Thaerivel nodded, silently returned the servant's wave of salute, and gestured to

the man to lead them up the steps.

As they ascended in the light of the flickering lanterns, the Thayan leader turned to the three

mages following at his heels and said in a low voice, "Remember, no one is to use magic except at my

command."

The man acting as seneschal turned two steps above them, continuing to climb without hesitation

or stumbling, gave them a tight smile, and commented, "Well said. That's always prudent behavior, Lord

Wizards -- as well as the only acceptable conduct in polite society."

The Red Wizards stiffened, their eyes blazing with anger, but their guide was already turning

away to tug on a huge tasseled cord. A bell rang out when he did so, deep and loud and low, and in the

rolling din of its echoes the Thayans reached the top step. The strange servant effortlessly threw open an

ornate door that was as wide as four men and as tall as a dozen.

Beyond, the wizards could see a large, high-domed hall of stone, adorned with galleries and hung

with rich maroon banners, great wall-shields of gold, and tapestries and paintings as large as the sails of

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Ed Greenwood - Never a Warpig Born

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