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.Storm plunged into the large, pink, marble bath his mother liked to soak in, even before Arclath got himself turned around to offer her a robe.He suddenly faced a swiftly disrobing Rune, who promptly perched on the edge of the bath and told him, in Elminster’s growl, “Ye know this Council is going to fall into bloodshed and civil strife, don’t ye? With Foril slain right then and there, if Tymora smiles not and we don’t fight hard and well?”“What?” Arclath snapped back at him.“Even with the mighty Elminster standing guard over it?”Elminster shrugged.“How so?” He waved one of Rune’s arms down at her bare and shapely self—even as Storm rose like a striding sea devil from the bath, gesturing to Rune that the waters were all hers—and told the young noble sourly, “This body won’t even get me through the doors.”Arclath’s mouth clamped down into a thin, hard line, and his stare became a murderous glare.“Oh, no,” he spat.“No.I am not letting you into my head.I’m sure you can use some spell or other to force your way in and burn away my hold over my own body in mere moments—but I’ll fight you.I will never surrender my body, nor let House Delcastle’s vote and voice be stolen by … by a wizard I can’t trust, who could in truth be anyone, who … who …”He ran out of words and clawed the air furiously, in an exasperated “away with you!” gesture.Storm ducked under his flailing arm and plucked up a robe, leaving Rune to reply, as she in turn sank down in the warm, scented water, “I won’t be forcing my way into thy mind, lad.’Tis not necessary.Yet.I’m merely warning ye to expect the worst.I can see it ahead, and I’m nigh powerless to stand against it.”“So you’re not the legendary, all-powerful Elminster?”“I was never all-powerful.Not even close.I was at best a scurrying, none-too-organized, overworked castle errand-boy.Aye, that’s the best way for ye to view what I did and was.I’m a lot less than that now.And, yes, there’s precious little I can do to stave off disaster at the Council.”“ ‘Precious little’?” Arclath flung back at him bitterly.“So why do you always act as if you can take care of everything?”El wagged a wise old finger in a way Amarune would never have done, and said mildly, “That master-of-all-things act accomplishes much, lad.All by itself.Try it; ye’ll see.”“Gah!” Arclath burst out, words failing him again.Storm tapped him on the shoulder.“After all that tramping through the forest, you need a bath,” she said gently.“And while you’re in there, sluice off a little of that seething anger and give us back the jaunty, debonair Fair Flower of House Delcastle that all Suzail is so used to seeing sporting airily about the streets.”Arclath glared at her, trying—and succeeding—to keep his eyes above her chin and not straying down to the rest of her, which she was casually using the panels of the open robe to rub dry.“And with Cormyr about to plunge into blood-drenched disaster, what good will that do?” he snapped.“Entertain us all far more than your seething anger,” she replied gently.“Gah!” Elminster supplied helpfully, before Arclath could find the breath he needed to make that very same comment again.Arclath stared at him—or rather, at Amarune’s bare, wet body, as she stepped out of the bath to take the robe Storm was offering her—then turned and hurled himself into the bath in a great angry dive that sent its waters crashing against walls and ceilings.Somehow, as bubbles roared past his ears and the half-dissolved scented soaps in the water made his eyes start to sting, he felt a little better.He might be heading into the worst noble-slaughtering bloodbath Cormyr had ever seen, but at least he’d be clean and smell sweet.CHAPTERNINEIN STATELY CONCLAVE METHorns blew a fanfare that the cool morning air carried far across Suzail, summoning the invited heads of noble Houses to the Council of Dragons.Arclath’s rising had awakened Amarune, though he’d dressed and dashed from Delcastle Manor without a word to either of his guests.Storm quietly opened Rune’s door, the coverlet wrapped around herself in a clumsy way, and wordlessly had handed her a bundle of clothes.They all proved to be magnificent gowns.Borrowed from Lady Delcastle’s wardrobes, Rune guessed, but decided not to ask.Storm had vanished again, anyhail.Amarune found something dark, long, and simple that more or less fit her.It was too ample for her taste but could be drawn tightly around her waist with a sash, and Storm had provided several beautiful ones.She put on her own clout and boots under it, looked at herself in the guest chamber mirror, winced, then shrugged and flung open the door
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