Songs & Swords 2 by Elaine Cunningham

admiring whistle. He lifted his gaze to Morgalla, and his gray eyes held both amusement and respect
    “You drew this?” he asked.
    “I’m here, ain’t I?” she replied gruffly, folding her arms over her chest.
    Danilo nodded, understanding completely. On the paper was a deft sketch of a wizard, robed in a star-and-moonstudded gown. A tall cone hat rested on an oversized thicket of white eyebrows, and the features, although comically exaggerated, were unmistakably those of Vangerdahast The wizard wielded a baton at an orchestra of glowing, levitating instruments. King Azoun sat in the background, enjoying the concert with a vague smile of pleasure lifting the corners of his mustache. The caption was simply, “The Musicians’ Guild?
    The sketch, Danilo knew, poked at the wizard in two vulnerable spots. Many years earlier, in his more frivolous youth, Vangerdahast had devised an enchantment that caused instruments to play alone. The spell amused Azoun, who, to his court wizard’s vast chagrin, often requested it to be cast as entertainment. Morgalla’s artwork embarrassed Vangerdahast, but it also posed a problem for his king. Many people in Cormyr and the surrounding lands were leery of Azoun’s desire to unite the heartlands of Faerun under one rule: his. To depict the king and his court wizard as sole members of the musicians’ guild was a deft reminder of the ldng’s drive to centralize authority. Morgalla’s work teetered dangerously on the line between satire and sedition. To make matters worse, the sketch had been stamped onto the paper, which indicated that many more copies could be in circulation.
    “I can see why Vangy sent her on a dragon hunt,” Danilo murmured to his uncle. He glanced over at Morgalla, who was tactfully giving the two men room to discuss the drawing. Again seated at the table, she was busily sketching. Her stubby fist flew over the paper, and her brow was creased with concentration.
    “On the other hand, he may have taken a sudden dislike to dragons,” Khelben commented, staring with narrowed eyes at the dwarf’s artwork.
    The Harper leaned in for a closer look. Rapidly taking shape on the page was Khelben himself, standing before an easel and painting stick-figures on a canvas. A circle of black-robed, helmed Lords of Waterdeep stood obediently near, holding his palettes and brushes for him.
    Danilo chuckled. On the most basic level, the sketch deftly skewered the archmage’s artistic pretensions. It also captured perfectly the commonly held belief that the archmage was a power—perhaps the power—behind the secret Lords of Waterdeep. The sketch provided Danilo with yet another explanation for Morgalla’s presence. “As I recall, Vangy doesn’t care much for the Harpers, either.”
    “Now yer catching on, bard,” said Morgalla. She looked up from her work “Vangerdahast ast me to draw yer-likeness, Lord Khelben. I mean no offense.”
    “I should hate to be around when you do,” Danilo said, his gray eyes dancing.
    The dwarf beamed, taking Dan’s teasing as a high compliment “If’n you like this, it’s yers.” She folded the sketch and handed it to Danilo.
    He thanked her and absently stuck it into his money pouch. “But what of Vangerdahast? If he commissioned this, I imagine he expects to receive it.”
    “Nah,” Morgalla said with a demure smile. “He’s got plenty o’ his own, believe you me.”
    “I can see that you two will get along fine,” Khelben noted dryly.
    “Indeed we shall,” his nephew agreed. “But if I might speak frankly, Morgalla, why do you consider yourself my apprentice? I am no artist.” -
    The dwarf shrugged. “Bards tell stories. I just come at the task from a different tunnel. You tell good tales, and I’m here to learn. And to fight, if it comes to that. I’m looking to do plenty o’ both.” She grabbed her oaken staff and waggled it as if to emphasize the point. The jester doll’s green and yellow motley cap flopped about.