Crown of Fire Chapter Two: Much Talk, and Even Some Decisions

[masterghandalf]

MG: Well, everyone, it’s time for us to continue our journey through Ed Greenwood’s Crown of Fire! Last time, Manshoon schemed, Elminster schemed, and Shandril made a vow not to use her spellfire in battle again (which, spoilers, she won’t be able to keep). Today, we check in with a whole lot of people as our pieces move into place. Joining us today will be Errezha and Caelum!

Chapter Two: Much Talk, and Even Some Decisions

Caelum: So, I guess I’m back here again? *sideways glance at Errezha* I’m fine, by the way, that bugbear turned out to be a big pushover, thanks for asking. So, our quote this chapter is from Storm Silverhand herself, who tells us that Try as we may, none of us can be in all places at all times. Not even the gods can do that. So we do what we can and measure our success, if we are wise, by what our hearts tell us at the end of a day, and not what our eyes tell us of how much we have changed Faerûn. And I dunno, I guess I can’t really argue with it, but it also seems kind of obvious and not all that insightful? So, we open the chapter itself with our heroes heading on further into Cormyr and Narm spotting some ominous flying things in the distance and asking Delg what they are. Delg just tells him to ignore them until they get under the cover of some nearby trees, while Shandril protests that she’s almost out of spellfire and can’t do much about them right now anyway (thought you didn’t want to fight anymore? Or was that just a last chapter thing?) Well, once they reach cover Narm gets a better look at the critters. He’d never seen such ugly things before—huge, fat, scaled things with bat wings, claws, and horselike heads that ended in two probing, twisting snouts. Each snout held sharp jaws; even down here Narm could smell the rotting reek of their breath. Delg says they’re called foulwings which seems a little on the nose to me, and the trio stay hidden while they circle overhead, and then the foulwing wheeled in the air, belching and snorting angrily as its rider struck it cruelly with a metal goad. In the man’s other hand, a wand glinted for a moment before he flew onward, out of sight. His companions, some ten or twelve others, followed afterward. Huh; guess that was a lucky break, then.

Errezha: Too lucky, if you ask me. Narm asks Delg what sort of person rides a foulwing, and he says evil folk, which isn’t all that helpful, and when Narm presses for details, he adds… quite a long list, as it turns out. “If you must know, lad: the Zhents; the Cult of the Dragon; I’ve heard the Red Wizards of Thay do, too; I saw the private army of a lich riding ’em once, in the Vilhon—and the tavern-talk in Suzail, when last I was there, had some lord or other of Westgate using them, in league with a pirate. For all I know, half the rich merchants in Sembia keep ’em as pets.” Narm then wonders why he’s never heard of them, if they’re that common, and Delg’s answer is… not exactly helpful. D’you know how many folk I’ve heard say that down the years, lad? Most of ’em had been adventuring longer than you have, too—and the things they hadn’t met with before killed ’em just as dead as if they’d been old friends. Had you seen or heard of spellfire before you met with your lady? That doesn’t seem a very useful comparison to me; spellfire wielders, from all we’ve been told, are incredibly rare, while from the way Delg talks about them, most of the major villainous organizations on the continent seem to use foulwings in some capacity. It’s easier for word to get out about one than the other. Shandril then asks if the foulwing riders are the darker, greater foes Elminster mentioned, and Narm laments not knowing how to recognize those who watch and, all right, I know Elminster and the Simbul both alluded to more dangerous enemies than Shandril had faced so far, but I hadn’t thought they were referring to a single specific faction – and I don’t believe either of those specific terms had come up before, either. Is this supposed to be a reference to the Malaugrym? If so, they don’t seem to be living up to their reputation. And, ultimately, Delg decides it doesn’t matter, since whoever they are, if they’re bold enough to fly across Cormyr in broad daylight, they’re dangerous people. Just one of those foulwings could tear all of us apart if it catches Shan by surprise, with no spellfire ready. It’s the forest for us, from now on.

MG: And I must say, all of this talk of who the foulwing riders could be is kind of pointless because, spoilers, it turns out they were more Zhents, and thus the exact same people Shandril’s already been spending the book fighting, and the very first ones Delg mentioned. It’s not even a big mystery, either.

Caelum: …that’s kind of anticlimactic. We’re then told that And so it was that the only known wielder of spellfire and her companions turned off the road into the vast and deep Hullack Forest. Which is just kind of melodramatic. They keep on going for several hours, then finally stop to rest, with Delg insisting on doing the cooking, claiming that “I’d probably starve if I left the food to you or your husband there” which is just rude, and probably not true. I mean, I don’t know about Narm, but Shandril worked in the kitchen at an inn, and I’m pretty sure the last book established that she’s actually a pretty good cook. Maybe she’s just not up for making dwarvish cuisine? Since she’d apparently never met a dwarf before Delg and all? But as it happens, Shandril doesn’t want to cook anyway, since she’s brooding about what happened in Thundarlun. She was growing tired of the killing—and of seeing fear in the eyes of folk she was fighting for, or alongside, when they looked at her. It also happens that the Hullack forest is big, dense, and treacherous, and Delg is starting to think they’d have been better off staying on the road, foulwings and all; Narm has to agree with him. Shandril also agrees, but thinks they need to wait until the next day to make their way back to the road, since it’s going to get dark soon and we daren’t travel blindly about in it, for I’ve heard of boars and worse hunted here. We must find a place to rest, before dark. After a bit of searching, they find a clearing where a big tree looks to have fallen fairly recently, and decide it’ll do. Delg tells Narm they need to start a fire, which worries him since it might attract their enemies, but Delg says it doesn’t matter. They’ve magic, lad… They could find us if we stuffed leaves in our hair and stood like trees ’til morning. The big beasts, too—an’ the smaller ones’ll come to look, but not dare approach too near. We may as well have some comfort.

Errezha: We then cut to a new person, someone named Gathlarue who proves Delg’s point, as she is watching the proceedings through a scrying crystal; she complains out loud that she’d have liked to see Delg stuff himself with leaves all over, and now she’ll have to watch their fire, which will make her sleepy. Meanwhile, one of her apprentices, a slim, raven-haired girl named Mairara offers her wine, which she accepts. “My thanks, precious one. You know my needs so well.” Mairara then kisses her mistress – I’m starting to think “apprentice” is something of a euphemism here; if Mother were here, she’d have some rather choice words for Gathlarue about keeping business and pleasure separate – and walks off, while Gathlarue thinks to herself that For all her kisses and kindnesses, Mairara meant to work her a painful death one day soon. Well, that, at least, does not surprise me. However, Gathlarue still has use for Mairara at the moment; to rise in the ranks of the Zhentarim would take more magic than Gathlarue could wield alone. She recalls a recent meeting with her fellow mages and Manshoon where so much cruelty and aroused magic had hung barely in check in that room that the smell of it had almost made her afraid. Almost. Apparently Gathlarue prefers to attend such meetings disguised as a man – was she present at the meeting last chapter, then? If so, her recollection makes it sound much more… exciting than Greenwood’s description did – because though the Keep’s Zhentilar soldiers respect her, no women, it seemed, rose high in the robed ranks of the Zhentarim. *she snorts disdainfully* Which is rather narrow-minded of Manshoon to be throwing talent away out of sheer sexism, I must say.

MG: And it isn’t really born out by how the Zhents are portrayed elsewhere in the setting, either; I can think of a number of Zhentarim women who attained quite high rank (including Fzoul’s protégé, the fallen paladin Scyllua Darkhope, who was not only effectively the entire organization’s second-in-command after he wrested power away from Manshoon, but also actually governed the city of Zhentil Keep itself for a while, as her mentor preferred to focus on his religious duties as the high priest of Bane). It puts me in mind of Storm’s comment last book about the Harpers being mostly women (also not born out by later material) and I wonder if Greenwood threw in the bit about the Zhentarim being male dominated as a sort of counterpoint, to play up their role as the evil counterparts of the Harpers. Also, while Crown of Fire doesn’t make it explicit, Greenwood would later confirm that Gathlarue having very pretty female apprentices she gets very touchy-feely affectionate with is exactly what it looks like, for the record.

Errezha: …of course it is. What is it with Greenwood and teacher/student relationships? I genuinely have to wonder. Well, Gathlarue has no plans to let the Zhentarim’s sexism hold her back. She had a spell that might handle even Lord Manshoon. More than that, she had one that might just foil spellfire. She takes a moment to reminisce about finding the spells in a book she took from the ruins of Myth Drannor, and the power they grant her, while sipping her wine and trusting an amulet she wears to render any poisons her apprentices might have slipped in ineffective. She then turns her attention back to the scrying crystal, watching Shandril and company set up camp and thinking to herself that she needs to plan her attack rather than just rushing in. Even the great Shadowsil had perished in Shandril’s flames—and Manshoon himself had been forced to flee. *snorts* I’m not sure what’s supposed to have been so “great” about the Shadowsil, myself; her track record last book was certainly nothing that impressive. And I must remind you that it was Elminster who killed her by deflecting her own spell at her. Shandril was out cold for that entire fight. Meanwhile, from a distance, she hears the sounds of one of her other apprentices, Tespril as she’s entertaining one of Gathlarue’s Zhentilar guards. I don’t suppose finding some actual privacy for that was possible? Gathlarue made a face in that direction. Really—the quality of apprentices one was forced to settled for these days … For once, I have to agree.

Caelum: Well, we find ourselves back with Shandril, Narm and Delg, who are now about to have dinner, but as Delg is finishing up his stew Shandril is suddenly reminded of Gorstag’s onion-heavy stews back at The Rising Moon, the inn where she’d grown up. Her eyes were suddenly wet with tears. She’d been happy there—how happy, she hadn’t known until too late. Now all that was lost forever; she dared not go back for fear her foes would slaughter her friends and burn the old Moon to the ground. Uh, yeah, pretty sure you were miserable at the inn, hated working there, especially hated being harassed by Korvan, and wanted nothing more than to run away, which you eventually did. And I guess nostalgia’s a funny thing and all, but… really? But regardless, Shandril bursts into tears and both Narm and Delg find themselves having to comfort her, while she thinks that Why, oh why, couldn’t she just go back to Shadowdale or Highmoon and live in peace among friends—and never see a Zhentarim wizard or Cult of the Dragon fanatic again? I mean, as for Shadowdale, that’s because Elminster for some reason decided to kick you out, so, uh, that one’s on him. Delg, meanwhile, decides the best thing to do is leave the couple with each other, so he gets up and wanders around the clearing for a bit, remembering Shandril’s battle with the Zhentilar and thinking to himself that she has more power than one person should have. And then there’s a really weird moment where he imagines having to decapitate her – to protect other people from her, I guess? But that’s not spelled out, so it just looks like Delg’s feeling weirdly murderous today. But he snaps out of it, and heads back over to offer Shandril more stew. And then, out of nowhere, a ball of glowing light appears and hovers over the ground, before seeming to focus on Shandril. “Be not alarmed,” came a faintly echoing voice from it. A man’s voice, sounding somehow dignified and elderly, speaking from a long distance away. A wizard, no doubt. Whatever the voice said, Delg was alarmed. Damn all magic, anyway! Wait a minute; let me guess. Greenwood’s got another pet wizard character out there we’re about to meet, doesn’t?

MG: Maaybe…

Errezha: *rolling her eyes* Of course he does. Well, the ball of light introduces itself; “In the name of Azoun, I bid you make answer to me! I am Vangerdahast, Royal Wizard of Cormyr, and by this magic can only speak to you, not cast magic on you or do any harm to you and yours. Shandril, do you hear me?” So, not just a wizard, then – a wizard with political clout. Because that always ends so well. So, Shandril gets up and acknowledges the wizard, and apparently In Highmoon, she’d heard often of the mighty Vangerdahast—and by all accounts, he sounded less good-natured and forgiving than the far mightier Elminster she knew. The patch of radiance pulsed and grew brighter. Ugh; worse than Elminster, you say? This keeps getting so much better.

MG: Eh, while Greenwood does seem to be fond of Cormyr’s royal family and associates, he doesn’t usually gob out of his way to shill them on the same level he does Elminster/the Seven Sisters/the Knights/Mirt, so they’re noticeably more tolerable. Vangerdahast, for his part, is basically another take on the “Merlin” archetype that Elminster also embodies, albeit with a different emphasis, taking on the aspects of Merlin that Elminster doesn’t – namely, as a counselor and teacher of royalty (he’s not Elminster-old, but he’s been around long enough to see several generations of the Obarskyr dynasty come and go). He’s also, as implied here, one of the less powerful of Faerun’s archmages overall – significantly below Elminster, the Simbul, and even Manshoon in terms of magical muscle – so I assume it’s his personality and political connections that are intimidating Shandril here rather than his personal might.

Errezha: I still don’t trust him. Vangerdahast promises he doesn’t mean Shandril any harm; he just wants to know what she intends to do while in Cormyr, and exactly what happened at Thundarlun. Well, that does seem reasonable enough, I must admit. Shandril wrestles for a moment with whether to trust the sending – after all, she has no idea if this is the real Vangerdahast, who she’s never met in person – but finally she decides to tell her story. “I intend no harm to the folk and land of Cormyr, nor any challenge to the authority or property of the king,” she said flatly. “I am fleeing enemies who would destroy me—among them, the warriors of Zhentil Keep, who followed me into your land through the Gap and caught up with me at Thundarlun. I can trust no one enough to tell where we are headed, but I assure you that I do not intend to settle or tarry in Cormyr. Let us pass in peace, I ask you.” She then proceeds to describe the battle at Thundarlun, though she admits she can’t promise Vangerdahast that all the Zhentilar who entered Cormyr are dead. When he asks how many she did kill, though, she breaks down: “I don’t count the dead any more, wizard. I can’t bear to!” Finally, Narm breaks in furiously, telling Vangerdahast he’s pressed Shandril enough, and Delg asks if they have the king’s permission to pass through Cormyr; Vangerdahast can’t speak for Azoun, but it turns out Azoun is already listening in and joins the conversation. He and Delg share a bit of cryptic conversation about their favorite harp songs, which confuses Shandril and Narm just as much as it does me, but seems to be some sort of code, as they’re both left satisfied. Then he gets to business. “Word has come to me of all of you, then. Shandril, know that Cormyr has no designs upon your powers or person. Yet, I warn you never to forget this: whatever the challenge, I will keep peace in my realm, no matter the cost. My knights and armsmen will do what they must to defend the good land and folk of Cormyr. We will not seek you, or offer war to you and yours. Pass in peace—and let us hope that we can one day meet openly, as friends, and give no thought for battle or danger.” Shandril promises that she means no harm and would like to meet the king as a friend one day; he gives her his blessing, and then the sending fades. Once he’s gone, Shandril collapses and vomits, seemingly from stress – well, I suppose it is her first royal audience – and Narm helps her up. She thanks both him and Delg for their help, but says she’ll be happier once they reach Silverymoon, and she wants to do it soon. “Help me get there—before the Zhents make me too accustomed to killing.”

Caelum: Well, the scene ends there and suddenly we’re back in Zhentil Keep, as Manshoon asks Sarhthor if they have begun. Sarhthor assures him ‘they’ have, and it looks like these are the same apprentices they’re talking about who were at the meeting last chapter. “You know they’ve started, Lord. Once you spoke of spellfire, you could have forbidden them to seek it—and still they’d have tried. Magelings who last this long are ruled by their lust for power, however much they might pretend to command wisdom and shrewd reason.” We then have a brief description of the two archwizards walking down a long corridor past a dormant golem, and –

MG: Hold on just a minute; I’d like to quibble with a word choice here. Namely, archwizards. I don’t know if Greenwood made a slip here, or if his editor did, but this line seems to be using “archwizard” as a synonym for “archmage” and… it’s not. At all. See, in the Realms, “archwizard” means something very specific. Manshoon and Sarhthor are not archwizards. Freaking Elminster isn't an archwizard. No archwizards appear in Shandril’s Saga at all. So, for explanation time, we have to go back to Netheril. The trope of the super advanced (compared to the present of the setting) ancient empire that destroyed itself through its own hubris is a common one in epic fantasy, probably ultimately descended from Tolkien’s Numenor (and, by extension, ultimately from the myth of Atlantis) and Netheril is Faerun’s take on it (or one of them, rather – Faerun had rather a lot of fallen ancient empires – but it was the most powerful, and the most famous both in-universe and in the lore). Netheril was a magocracy, ruled by powerful wizards called arcanists whose skills far exceeded most modern mages; the most powerful of the arcanists were called archwizards, and to get to be one of those you had to create, maintain and rule your own flying city, which tells you something of the power scaling involved here. Now, Netheril eventually fell quite spectacularly (long story short, its last ruler – Karsus, arguably the most powerful human mage ever to live, take that Elminster - tried to become a god, failed dramatically, and Netheril got mostly blasted off the map as a side-effect); most of the archwizards died, and the handful who survived (all of whom make the likes of Manshoon look like an ambitious upstart and could even give Elminster a hard time) were mostly not in a position to try and revive their empire. That is, until Telamont Tanthul, who I’ve mentioned a few times before, returned from his exile in the Plane of Shadow along with his sons and their Shadovar followers during the aptly named Return of the Archwizards storyline and proclaimed the new Empire of Risen Netheril. So, yeah, the point being that “archwizard” isn’t a title you should be throwing around casually like that. Netheril itself wasn’t mentioned at all in Spellfire (which is itself a bit weird, since it’s a big part of the Realms’ backstory and was apparently part of Greenwood’s home campaign long before he sold the Realms to TSR), but references to it will start cropping up in the remainder of the trilogy and will become plot-relevant in book three, which is also part of why I wanted to get that spiel out of the way.

Caelum: Huh; that’s a lot to digest. Sounds more like Calassara’s thing than mine, though. Well, Manshoon and Sarhthor keep walking until they come to a door, which Manshoon walks through and vanishes; Sarhthor follows behind, and then they find themselves in a grand, high-vaulted chamber in the heart of the Citadel of the Raven. It took hurrying warriors two days or more to make the trip they’d just covered in a single step. Manshoon and Sarhthor make their way down the hall and finally stop by a stained-glass window and wait until it opens; Out of that darkness floated two spherical creatures, their dark bodies surrounded by sinuously coiling tentacles that turned restlessly to point in one direction and then another. From the end of each stalk, a cold, fell eye looked out at the world. Each beholder slowly turned on end to gather all ten of its eyestalks in a sinister, watchful cluster: a forest of eyes stared at the two Zhentarim wizards as the beholders drifted into the room. Oh, great; it’s those things again. And they were creepy enough last time… Well, one of the beholders speaks, noting that there’s a strange magic present in the room. Sarhthor offers to perform some divinations to find its source, and Manshoon and the beholders all tell him to proceed, speaking in perfect harmony and leaving Sarhthor shook by how like the eye tyrants Manshoon sounded … how like an eye tyrant he had truly become. Yeah, me too, buddy, me too.

Errezha: Well, Sarhthor casts his spells and turns up not much of use; as Mystra is my witness, I can find no trace of scrying, spies, or magical traps in this place. There are, however, two spiders alive here, and a scuttlebug—by your leave? Manshoon and the beholders give permission, and Sarhthor smashes them; not that I disapprove (I am not… fond of spiders) I don’t particularly see the point, unless Manshoon is assuming that they were polymorphed spies? Regardless, Manshoon asks the beholders why they wanted to meet, and one of them says that they have grown wary of Fzoul and the priests of Bane lately, and particularly question their loyalty to the Zhentarim. The other beholder – who is larger, apparently – then says that it is also worried about the competence of the current crop of apprentices. Then the first beholder adds that spellfire is the key to their ambitions, and “If you are to keep our support, Manshoon, your hand must come to wield it, or hold a firm grip on whoever does.” Manshoon then asks if the beholders have a plan for how to accomplish this – is that common sense from a Greenwood villain? A rare thing indeed! – and as it happens, they do. Meet Iliph Thraun, a lord among liches, as you are a lord among men. And sure enough from behind the window, A yellowed human skull drifted into view, looking down at the two wizards… two pale, flickering points of light hung in its dark sockets; its gaze was cold but somehow eager as it looked down at the two mages. Thraun drifts over, and immediately opens with a shocking revelation – when he lived, long ago, he too had the power of spellfire! And, if he catches Shandril, he can drain the power from her and into himself. “Once enough of her spellfire is gone, the lass will lose control over what is left. She will become a wild wand whenever she unleashes spellfire—a menace to allies and those she holds dear. Soon she will destroy them … and, in the end, herself.” Well, well. It seems someone actually does have a plan for once. Though not, that I can see, a plan for stopping Shandril from destroying Thraun herself in her final, desperate flailings. Manshoon thanks Thraun, who departs, but once he’s gone, he admits significant doubts about this plan to the beholders. I trade a young, reckless girl who scarce knows how to use spellfire for an old, wise, mighty-in-Art lichnee who is sure to defy my orders? Where’s the gain in that? The beholders, however, have a solution for that, too – Thraun’s lich transformation was flawed. He needs to feed on magic to sustain himself, and normally keeps apprentices on hand to fuel him with certain spells when he needs it. However, these spells can be modified to allow the caster to command Thraun instead of merely feeding him. They explain the process further – I won’t bore you with the details – and then you can control Thraun from a distance—an absolute control that compels the lich lord’s nature. If you choose to do this through a lesser mage whose mind you control, you can even command the lich lord without its knowing who you are. Well, that does seem more promising – assuming you trust the beholders, that is, which I wouldn’t. Nothing with that many eyes and that big a mouth seems likely to be up to anything good.

MG: And I’ll note here that I… honestly have no idea what Thraun (who, sadly, is no relation of Grand Admiral Thrawn) is supposed to actually be. As the beholders describe here, he’s not a normal lich, and we’ll later learn that “lich lord” is actually what his variation of lichdom is called (which also doesn’t make much sense, because he’s not actually a “lord among liches” at all, since he doesn’t command any other liches that we ever see and is indeed later noted to be weaker than a normal lich). But the only article the FRWiki has on “lich lords” is a redirect to their article on Thraun himself. Furthermore, normally the “floating skull” type of lich is a demilich, which despite the name is a more powerful form of lich that’s largely evolved beyond the need for a physical body altogether, and that’s not what Thraun is. So, *shrugs*. He is one of the more dangerous villains in this trilogy, though; he’s the one I’ve alluded to before who actually does have a plan and means for stealing spellfire, which automatically puts him above almost everyone else. Not that that’s saying much, considering the competition.

Caelum: Once again, I’ll pretend I understood that. Well, Manshoon is pleased with this news – he has no doubt Thraun intends to betray him once he’s gotten his… hands?... on Shandril’s power, but now Manshoon can betray Thraun instead! A nice twist. However, he wants to be cautious in how he uses Thraun, since if Fzoul sees him he’ll know something’s up. And apparently the Banites regard all undead as tools to be used or rivals to destroy, which is why there aren’t many of them in the Zhentarim to begin with. If you agree, I’ll send a mageling to serve Thraun, a wizard this lich lord believes it can easily destroy—but one whose mind I control. We tell Thraun our difficulties in capturing Shandril continue, and it’s best not to reveal a lich lord whom others may fear and attack, unless we have the maid in hand. The beholders agree with this plan and then they leave, as do Manshoon and Sarhthor to head back to Zhentil Keep. Before they go, Sarhthor offers to cast a tracking spell so they’ll know if anyone else has been snooping around the hall, and Manshoon agrees and tells him to go ahead with it. And then, once they’re both gone, the floor starts to ripple and then suddenly in one corner behind a tapestry, the ripples rose up smoothly into a man-sized pillar, spun for a moment, and sharpened into the form of a tall, thin, bearded man in plain, rather shabby, homespun robes. *groans* Oh, great. It’s him again, isn’t it? “ ’Tis high time, indeed … for certain folk to set down their harps and get their hands dirty. Again. Just as it’s time old Elminster got walked all over, again. ’Tis not the first time, this tenday, the world’s needed saving.” Yeah, you’re one to talk, considering you’re apparently not doing anything for Shandril beyond sending a couple of people much less powerful than you are to hunt a monster that’s supposedly a threat to her. Yeah, I’m still not very impressed. But anyway, it looks like the chapter ends here!

MG: And so, it does! Next time… the Zhents make their move (again). We’ll see you then! But after a long while without, I finally have some pics today!
I give you King Azoun IV: And Vangerdahast:

Comments

[kudzumac]

Wow, someone actually has a decent plan to go after Shandril! Though, I have a feeling that Thraun here is going to get defeated in a possibly lame way when his attempt to drain her backfires.

Also, I think I recall that a ruler somewhere in Faerun has a lot of bastard children running about? I'm not sure if it's Azoun or someone else though.

[masterghandalf]

Also, I think I recall that a ruler somewhere in Faerun has a lot of bastard children running about? I'm not sure if it's Azoun or someone else though.


It very well could be, because he does; the Obarskyrs in general are apparently a randy bunch. I'll have more to say on that later in the sporking, when we meet one of Azoun's mistresses who's a reasonably important character.