The Magehound

The young man scanned the room. "Those three men speaking to Basel Indoulur are laden with magical devices. Do you notice how the thin one flaunts the rings on his hand, much as a man unaccustomed to wealth might display his coins? None of the three are particularly powerful wizards, but they wish to appear so. You would do well to learn why."

The diviner lifted one snowy eyebrow. "And why is that?"

"The ornaments they wear on their hands and about their necks are of Moonshae gold," Matteo explained. "Nowhere else is that particular shade of pale rose-gold mined. If these men were capable of crafting magical items themselves, they would do so. Nor are they overburdened with coin. Had they the means to buy the best, they would purchase Halruaan magic."

Procopio smiled and nodded in approval. "That goes without saying, but it's pleasant to hear nonetheless. Go on."

"The question is, how did they acquire these items, and for what purpose? It is said that the Llewyrr elves gave such gifts to the High Queen of the Moonshaes when she succeeded her father, King Kendrick, along with the prophecy that her line will continue for as long as the elven magic endures. This was no doubt meant as an elf blessing, but there are factions in that kingdom that might see opportunity in these gifts and this pronouncement."

Procopio studied his counselor with interest. "I begin to see your reasoning. Where else could such magic be studied and counteracted but in Halruaa? If the artifacts are what you think they are, their reappearance in the hands of the Moonshae queen's rivals, their magic depleted, might prove a rallying point to mount a serious challenge to the throne."

"Therein lies the problem. Halruaa can have no part in such games. Our magic is too widely feared. If the ruse were discovered, it wouldn't matter to the world if the Halruaan wizard who altered the artifacts knew nothing of their intended use. The Moonshae Islands have powerful allies. Most certainly there would be harsh reprisals."

Procopio nodded thoughtfully. He looked at Matteo with genuine regret. "You have counseled me well. I will seek a private audience with Zalathorm, and we will get to the heart of this. You, however, must present yourself to the queen's court."

He gave Matteo a small parchment card etched with sapphire ink. "Give this to the seneschal. He will endeavor to get you an introduction."

The wizard hesitated, then clapped Matteo on the shoulder. "May Mystra smile upon you."

Matteo heard the dismissal in the words and nodded his response. With a sigh, he turned toward the corridor that separated Zalathorm from his queen.

As he walked, the sound of music and conversation faded slowly away. The tap of his footsteps echoed along the marble floor, and the corridor became increasingly chill. Paradoxically, bursts of steam jetted out into the hall at intervals of increasing frequency.

He carefully came closer to investigate. A sudden, sharp hiss drew his gaze to his left, and immediate he reached for his daggers. Crouched in an alcove, looking like a giant, ice-white cat ready to spring, was a white dragon.

The beast was still a juvenile, judging from its size, but deadly just the same. The dragon's maw was wide and curved upward in a wicked smile, parted slightly to reveal rows of lethal ivory fangs. Two horns curled back off the beast's forehead, and a third, shorter one in the center jutted forward, swirled like a long, slender seashell. It looked very like a unicorn's horn, but for the barbed tip and the taint of long-dried blood. The dragon's talons were equally stained, and each was nearly as long as Matteo's hand. Its ice blue eyes regarded Matteo steadily and glittered like malevolent jewels.

A moment passed before Matteo realized his mistake. In his surprise, he looked directly into the dragon's eyes. And in looking, he felt nothing-none of the fear that turned bones to water and made strong men forget their resolve. This had nothing to do with his resistance to magic, but with the dragon itself. It was no true beast, but an elaborate clockwork device.

Matteo held back until the thing emitted two more puffs of cold steam, then leaned in closer for a look. Sure enough, the scales were bits of electrum, hammered smooth and thin and cunningly fitted together. He could glimpse the gears inside the creature's mouth and the large block of ice within its body. Periodically a small vial tipped, pouring a few drops of some unknown mixture onto the ice, which immediately sizzled and sent forth a cloud of cooling vapor. The dragon was an elaborate cooling device, nothing more. Even the apparent blood on its horn and claws was nothing more than a bit of rust.