The Magehound

No magical secret was more jealously guarded than that of Halruaa's flying ships. At first glance, a ship in dry dock or tied at port appeared to be nothing more than a mundane sailing vessel, broad-beamed and carrying three masts. The skyships were not particularly maneuverable, and they could not lift high enough into the air to clear the mountains. Skyships required constant magical renewal, and they were too slow and clumsy for aerial combat. None of this mattered at all, and reminding a Halruaan of these details would be as pointless as criticizing the artistic merit of a family coat of arms. The skyships were a legacy from their ancestors, the wizards of ancient Netheril, and as such they were a potent symbol of what it meant to be Halruaan.

The launching of the skyships came at the end of Lady Day, a spring festival honoring the goddess Mystra. Everyone donned festive red garments, lending the crowd at lakeside the appearance of a vast field of scarlet flowers. As the sun set, the music of street musicians faded away and the cheerful clamor of voices dimmed to an expectant hum. Every eye turned toward the waters of Lake Halruaa.

Slowly, slowly the great ships began to rise from the lake. Starlight seemed to gather in their white sails, gaining brilliance as the sky darkened and the skyships rose. There were ten of them, moving into perfect formation: nine ships forming a circle of starlight around a central ship, the great vessel owned and occasionally flown by King Zalathorm himself.

Suddenly Zalathorm's ship appeared to burst into crimson flame. The starlight captured by the attending ships began to blink on and off in a pattern that made it appear that the circle of ships was moving faster and faster until giant stars seemed to spin around the dancing flame-Mystra's symbol, and therefore that of Halruaa.

The crowd responded with huzzahs, stamping their feet in quickening rhythm, dancing and holding their arms out toward the light The display ended in a brilliant burst, and a cloud of sparkling motes descended upon the cheering people. These tiny lights would cling to their red garments until the sun returned, forming patterns that, according to tradition, spoke of Mystra's favor.

Laughing and chattering, the people hurried away to enjoy the evening's festivities, most of which revolved around having their fortunes told. Some went to the temples to joyous rites to the goddess of magic, while others sought counsel from diviners who read such signs through incantations. The common folk held parties for neighborhood wise women, who pieced together credible stories using bits of folk magic and a lifetime of experience with the people who sought their advice. Wherever they went, most people came away satisfied. Ill tidings on Lady Day were as rare as snow in the swamplands.

In the sky over the lake, the now-dark skyships prepared to return to port. Procopio Septus, the Lord Mayor of Halarahh and captain of the skyship fleet, nodded to his helmsman. Before the man could relay the orders to the crew, the scrying globe beside the helm began to pulse with light.

Procopio skimmed his fingertips over the smooth crystal. A face took shape on the surface of the globe, a round, cheerful, and distressingly familiar face. The wizard stifled a sigh as he regarded his friend and nemesis, Basel Indoulur.

"We conjured up a good show, eh what?"

"And a fine Lady Day to you, Basel," Procopio told his fellow wizard, ignoring the sly humor in the man's words. Basel Indoulur was a wizard of the conjuration school, which was not as highly regarded as divination, Procopio's discipline. But Basel never lost an opportunity to tease the diviner with the opinion that conjuring accomplished things, while divination merely nosed about in whatever other wizards were doing or were likely to do.