The City of Splendors: The Cities
Ed Greenwood, Elaine Cunningham
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
The fourth novel in The Cities series, set against the background
of civil strife at the heart of the Forgotten Realms setting.
This novel is set in the most important city of the Forgotten Realms setting:
Waterdeep, city of intrigue and secrets. Its authors are considered by fans to be
among the most authoritative figures writing in the Forgotten Realms
setting, and each has a legion of loyal readers. This novel is their first
ED GREENWOOD lives in Ontario, where he created the Forgotten Realms setting more than 30 years ago and has written hundreds of articles, novels, stories, and game products in the setting. His most recent novel is Elminster’s Daughter.
ELAINE CUNNINGHAM published her first novel, Elfshadow, in 1991. Since
then she’s written the Songs & Swords series, the Counselors & Kings series,
and the Starlight & Shadows trilogy, concluding it with Windwalker. She is
also the author of the Star Wars® novel Dark Journey.
muster-horn rang out from a wall-tower. Some folk cowered, but others bawled defiance and fury, and ran at all who stood against them. The old noble’s blade bought the whimpering young Watchman a few moments more of fearful life ere they were both hacked down. Then everyone was running, racing amid the tombs as Watchmen and armored Guardsmen with drawn swords burst into the cemetery at every gate. Women and children screamed and wept and ran wildly across the sward, men snatched up cobblestones
to men of honor!” “Indeed,” Taeros replied politely. Four blades sang out of scabbards to join Beldar’s already-bared steel, and the Gemcloaks drew themselves smoothly into two lines, facing each other in mock menace. Someone hummed a mock fanfare, and one man from each line glided forward to stand blade-to-blade. With matching grins, Beldar and Taeros indulged in a mocking, finger-crooking parody of the elaborate lace-wristed courtesies of old nobles. Grand flourishes were made, bows
past, dagger flashing. Throat laid open, the bear-man gurgled, staggered, raked the wall vainly with his claws … and died. Fresh screams erupted down the tunnel, and someone far off shouted the name of a noble house like a battle-cry. Then Korvaun roared in pain, steel clanged on steel very close by, and Naoni flung herself away and rolled in blood and apples, to come up facing— Roldo Thongolir and Lark, furiously stabbing a man who looked like any back alley sneak-thief—except that rows of
near his knees and ended up over his head, with the sailor flung away senseless. So great was the force of Piergeiron’s blow that the paladin staggered sideways on the slippery cobbles toward a nearby shopfront. Just as Mrelder had hoped. Pointing at the shop’s signboard —“Ye Happy Harlot” it proclaimed to the world, in shabby, peeling paint on wood carved into the shape of a buxom reclining woman—he carefully said the last, triggering word of his spell. Rusted chains flew apart. The faded
of disbelief from the grizzled old Watch rorden. “Come now, milord! You seriously expect me to believe that your friend here—” He waved at Starragar, who, with his glittering black cloak and blood-smeared face, looked like a large carrion bird—“is unfamiliar with alehouses?” A chorus of sarcastic chuckles arose from the surrounding Watchmen. Taeros felt unaccustomed anger rising in him. “What my friend meant,” he said rather sharply, “is that the Lord Jardeth expected a drinking establishment