Shandril's Saga - Spellfire Part 9

Close at hand, a merry voice said, "Works like a charm, it **

does. Can I try it? Shandril, will you go back to sleep for a moment?"

Shandril sighed. "Tbrm, do you never stop?"

"Not until I'm dead, good lady. Irritating I may be, but Tm never dull."

"Aye," Rathan rumbled. "Thou art many things, but never dull."

"Fair morning to you both," Shandril laughed.

"Well met, lady," Rathan answered her. "Thy dawnfry awaits thee ... simple fare, I fear, but enough to ride on. We were not bothered again in the night, but ye had best watch sharp today. It will not be long before those bodies are found."

Narm looked around at the gra.s.sy hills. "Where exactly are we?"

"West of the road, in the hills west of Featherdale," Rathan supplied. "Turn about. Do ye see that gray shadow-like smoke-on the horizon? That is Arch Wood.

Between here and there lies an old, broad valley with no river to speak of anymore. That's Ta.s.seldale. I would not go down into the valley. Though it's a

pleasant place, indeed, with many fine shops and friendly folk, it is alsofull of people ye want to avoid. Nay, keep to the heights along the valley'snorthern edge."There, ye'll meet with no more than a shepherd or two and perhaps a Mairsharpatrol. Tell them-they police the dale and always ride twelve strong-thatye'refrom Highmoon, going home, Shandril, with this mage ye met in HiUsfar. Callthyself 'Gothal,' or something, Nairn. Stick to the truth about Gorstag andthe inn, lady, and ye'll fare the better. Give no information to any others until yemeet with the elves of Deepingdale.""Elves?" Shandril asked, astonished."Aye, elves. Don't ye know anything of Deepingdale, where ye grew up?"Rathan's voice was incredulous. "No," Shandril told him. "Only the inn. I saw half-elven, under arms, when Ileft with the company, but no elves.""I see. Know ye that the present Lord of Highmoon is the half-elven hero ofbattles Theremen Ulath, just so ye don't say the wrong thing." The burlycleric rose and pulled on his*

helm. "Now eat. The day grows old."They ate, and soon the time came when all was ready, and Rathan sighed andsaid heavily, "Well, the time has borne. We must leave ye."He turned on his heel to look southwest. "One day's ride should take ye tothe west end of Ta.s.seldale, in the Dun Hills. That's one camp. Keep awatch-sleepingtogether's for indoors. Peace, Tbrm, no jests now. Another day's carefulridingwest-just keep Arch Wood to the left of ye, whatever else ye come upon-willbring thee to Deepingdale. Ye can press on after dark once ye've found theroad,and make The Rising Moon before morning. All right?"They nodded, hearts full."Good then," Rathan went on in gruff haste, "and none of that weeping, now."He held out a wineskin to Narm. "For thy saddle." He fumbled at the large pouchat his hip and brought out a disc of s.h.i.+ning silver upon a fine chain and hungit about Shandril's neck, kissing her on the forehead. "Tymora's good luck gowith thee" he said. Torm stepped forward next. "Take this," he said, "andbear it most carefully.It is dangerous." He held out a cheap, gaudy medallion of bra.s.s, set askew withglued-in cut gla.s.s stones on a bra.s.s chain of mottled hue that did not matchthe medallion. He put it about Nairn's neck."What is it?" Narm asked. "Look at it now," Tbrm said, "lake care how you touch it." Narm looked. Abouthis neck was no cheap medallion, but a finely detailed, twist-linked chain of heavy work. Upon it hung two small, golden globes, with a larger one betweenthem. "This is magical," Tbrm said, "and keep it clear of spellfire or anyfieryart, or it may slay you. We call it a necklace of missiles. You, and only you,can twist off one of these globes and hurl it. When it strikes, it bursts as a mage's fireball does; mind you are not too close. The larger globe is ofgreaterpower than the other two. It needs no ritual or words of command to work.Keepit safe; you'll need it, some day . . . probably sooner than you think." Hepatted Nairn's elbow awkwardly. "Fare you both well," he said.The knights mounted, saluted them with bared blades, tossed two small flasksof water, wheeled their mounts, andgalloped away. Hooves thudded briefly upon the earth and then died away and were gone.Nairn and Shandril looked at each other, eyes bright and cheeks wet, andslowlyembraced. "We really are alone now, my love," Narm said softly. "We have onlyeach other;"Yes," said Shandril softly. "And that will do." She kissed him long anddeeplybefore she spun away, leaped into her saddle, and said briskly, "Come onl Thesun waits not, and we must ride!"Narm grinned at her and ran to his own saddle." Spitfire!" he called as he swung himself up.Shandril raised her eyebrows and spat fire, obediently, in a long rollingplumethat winked out just in front of him. The horses snorted in alarm, and shegrinned. "Ah yes," she agreed, "but thy lady." She looked west then andtossed her hair from her eyes. "Now," she commanded, lifting her chin, "let us away!"Away they sped from that place, leaving only trampled gra.s.s and silent, unseen spectral warriors.The stars were clear and cold outside, but Elminster saw them not. He gazedinto a twinkling sphere of crystal on the table before him in the upper room ofhis tower. Within the crystal he saw a rich, red-carpeted chamber with tapestriesof red and silver and gold, a fine, roaring fire, and a lady in a black,tattered gown sitting at a table, gazing back at him."Well met, sage, and welcome," she said with the faintest of smiles."Well met, lady queen and mage. Thank ye for allowing this intrusion.""Few enough call upon me, old mage, and fewer still do so without some planto harm or hamper me. I thank you."FJminster inclined his head politely. "I have further thanks for thee thisnight, lady. Thank ye for protecting Narm and Shandril on severaloccasions-possibly more- these past few days. I am most grateful."The Simbul gave him a rare smile. "My pleasure, again." There was thebriefest of silences, and then the old mage asked a careful question.

"Why did ye aid them so, when the maid is such a threat to thy magic, andwith it, the survival of Aglarond-^and of thee?"The Simbul smiled. "I know the prophecy of Alaundo and what it may mean. Ilike Shandril." She looked away for a moment, and then back at the old mage. "Ihave a question for you, Elminster. Answer not if you would not. Is Shandril thechild of Garthond Shessair and the incantratrix Damma-sae?" Elminster nodded. "I am not certain, lady, but it is very likely."An eyebrow lifted. "Not certain? Did you not hide the girl and shelter her a.s.she grew?"Elminster shook his head very slowly. "Nay. Not I.""Who, then?""Again, I am not sure. I believe it was the warrior Gorstag, of Highmoon."The Simbul nodded. "So I have come to suspect these last few days. I thank youfor trusting me so, to answer me openly. I promise you, old mage, that Ishall not betray your trust. The girl Shandril is safe from my power-unless thepa.s.sing years change her as they did Lansharra and she becomes too dangerousto leave unopposed.""That is my present burden," Elminster said heavily. "Such a fall must nothappen again.""What, if I may ask you without offense, will you do differently this time?"The Simbul was watching him closely, her eyes very dark."Leave her be," Elminster replied. "She will choose her own path in the end.Her choice may be the clearer and happier for her-if not easier in the making-ifI do not sit upon her every act and speak upon her every thought." Elminstermet The Simbul's gaze thoughtfully. "The Harpers can protect her nearly as well asI could, without locking her in my tower and thus keeping her under my eye . . . and I could not do that without ruining her choice, even had I the cruelheart to do it." The Simbul nodded. "That is the right road for you to ride, I think. It isgood,indeed, that I needn't force you to take that route."*

Elminster smiled, a little sadly. "A good thing, indeed," he said verysoftly,"for such an attempt would likely have destroyed ye."The Simbul regarded him soberly. "I know." She nodded slowly and then almostwhispered, "I have never doubted or belittled your power, Elminster. You takethe quiet way and play the befuddled old fool, even as I take beast-shape andhide often. But I have seen what your art has wrought. If ever I should haveto stand against it, I expect to fall.""I did not disturb ye this night to threaten ye.""I know," The Simbul said, rising slowly. "Will you allow me to teleport to you now?" "Of course, lady," Elminster said. "But why?"The Simbul's eyes were very dark as she let fall her tattered gown. Beneathit,she wore a garment of thin, black silk strands that reached from her throatto cuffs at her wrists and a broad c.u.mmerbund belt. The outfit covered little. Set with many small, twinkling gems that winked out when she did, her garmentshone the more brilliantly when The Simbul reappeared beside Elminster. Unsmiling,she stood almost timidly amid the dark room's clutter of papers and books.Elminster gaped at her and then deliberately composed himself and smiled."But, lady, I have seen some five hundred winters," Elminster said gently. "AmI not too old for this?" She stopped his lips with slim white fingers. "All those years will give ussomething to talk about, you and I" she said, "instead of art." She was slimand very light as she sat in his lap, and her skin as she leaned forward toembrace him was smooth and soft. "I would tell you something," she whispered, asElminster's arms went gently around her. "My name, my truename, is-""Hush, lady," Elminster said, eyes moist. "Keep it safe. We shall trade them,soon. But not now." The tears came. "Ah, old mage," The Simbul said, sobbing into his chest, "Ihave been so lonely. . . ."Lhaeo, who had come up the dark stairs with tea, the pot wrapped in a thickscarf to keep it warm, stopped outside the door and heard them. He set thetraydown carefully on a table nearby and went softly downstairs again for a sec ond cup. What is the weight of secrets? he wondered to himself. How many may a man carry? How many more, a woman, or an elf?It was dark outside, but in the little cottage near the woods candlesflickered and the hearthfire blazed merrily. A woman straightened up from the cauldron as they came in. She was no longer young, and the clothes she wore were simpleand much patched. She gasped. "My lords! Welcome! But I have nothing ready tofeed you. My man's not to be back from the hunt until morning.""Nay, Lhaera," Rathan said kindly, embracing her. "We cannot stay, but musthasten back to Shadowdale. We have an errand for thy daughter that is urgent,and I would renew Tymora's bright blessing upon this house."Lhaera looked at them in wonderment. "With Imraea? But she's scarce six-" Tbrm nodded. "Old enough that her feet are firmly on the ground." He wasinterrupted then by the precipitous arrival of a small, dark-haired whirlwindwho fetched up against his legs, laughing. As he reached down to embrace her,she danced back out of his reach and announced solemnly, "Well met, Tbrm andRathan, Knights of Myth Drannor. I am pleased to see you."Both knights bowed, and Rathan answered solemnly, "We are pleased to seethee,lady. We have come to discharge our duty to ye. Are ye in good health and ofhigh spirits?"

"Aye, of course. But look how beautiful my mother is since you healed her!She grows taller, I think!"Tbrm and Rathan regarded the astonished and smiling Lhaera carefully. "Aye, Ithink you are right. She does grow taller," Tbrm said solemnly. "Be sure tosend word to us when she grows too tall for the roof, for you will need some helprebuilding then."Imraea nodded. "I will do that." She eyed Tbrrn. "You are making me wait, SirKnight. Is my patience not well held? Am I not solemn enough?" Then shefairlydanced. "Did you bring it?""It is not an 'it.' It is a 'he,' as you are a she," said Tbrm*0*

severely, drawing open his cloak and letting something soft and furry intoher arms. Its fur was silver and black, and it had great, dark, glistening eyes.It let out a small and inquiring meow. Imraea held it in wonder as it stretchedits nose out to hers. "Has it-he-a name?" Rathan regarded her severely. "Aye, it has a truename, which it keeps hidden,and a kitten name. But you must give it a proper name, the name you can callit. Take care you choose wisely. The kitten will have to live with your choice.""Aye," Imraea agreed seriously. "Tell me, please, its kitten name that I maycall it so while I think on such an important choice." Lhaera smiled broadly."Its name," said Tbrm with dignity, "is Snuggleguts." Tbrm dropped ninepiecesof gold into her hand."What is this?" Imraea asked in wonder. "Its life," Rathan said. "The kitten will need milk, and meat, and fish, asit grows, and it wilt need much care, and to be kept warm. You, or your parents,must buy those things. You must take the mice and rats it will kill, thank yourpet without any disgust or sharp words, and bury them. It is your duty. Knowyou, Imraea, that the G.o.ds gather back to themselves cats and dogs and horseseven as they do you and me. There is no telling when Snuggleguts may die. Sotreat it well and enjoy its company, but let your kitten roam free and do asit will. Each time you see your pet may be the last.""I will. I thank you both. You are kind, you two knights.""We but do the right thing," Ibrm replied softly."Aye, that you do," Lhaera said to them. "And there's few enough, these days,who take the trouble to do that." Sanset at The Rising MoonBy night dark dreams bring me much pain -but always comes, after, brightmorningagain.Mintiper Moonsilver, bardNine Stars Around A Silver Moon Year of the Highmaritle "The Wearers of the Purple are met," Naergoth Bladelord said. "For the gloryof the dead dragons!""For their dominion," came the ritual response from sullen throats. Naergoth looked around the chamber. Malark had not shown his face again. Naergoth was beginning to worry thatsomething ill-and probably final-had befallen him. By the looks others weregiving his empty seat, he was not the only one thinking along such lines.Longfaces aplenty looked back at him."Well enough," Dargoth said. "What say you, Zannastar? You stand for our magesin the absence of Malark, and the doubt grows in my mind that we shall ever see him alive here again.""It is not my place to speak as one of you," said Zannastar, a balding,bearded man of middle years. "I do not wear the purple."His hard face turned to look down the table. "But I do think that the more one listens, the more one learns. Something, whether it's spellf ire or not, isstriking down brother after brother, and many of your sacred ones, too-Rauglothgor and Aghazstamn were both of great power. Can the dracolichShargrailar be any the safer? Its lair is on the other side of the Peaks,true,but still near."

"Tfes," Zilvreen agreed, "and yet the Sacred Ones can look after themselvesfar better than we can defend them, if we know not where the blow may fall.Better we go after this Shandril ourselves and destroy her. If we cower in lairsawaiting her attack, we have already conceded the victory.""Ifes, yes, we have heard this line before and agreed to it," Naergoth said."Our absent mage may have died following H.""Let this Shandril and the fledgling mage Narm go, then," Dargoth said. "Thecost is too high.""Too high already," agreed the cleric Salvarad in a soft voice that warned ofsharp things beneath its purr. The triple lightning bolts of Talcs, worked insilver, gleamed upon his breast. "Yet, brothers, consider the cost if itbecomes widely known that a young girl-a young girl who commands an unusual andpowerfulability of art-has defied us and destroyed so many of us! Can we afford tolet her go-at any price-now? What think you?""Oh, aye, for the cost of a loss of reputation, let her go," Zilvreen said."What loss is that? A few butcherings and mannings and menaces and that sortof loss is mended, at least among those folk with whom it works at all. But can we afford to pa.s.s up our chance of wielding spellfire, when our enemies couldend up using it against us? There is the real price, brothers.""*fes, we cannot afford to face this spellfire-that we have seen clearly. But we cannot let our foes gain it!" one of the warriors said. The man beside himturned to look in surprise."You think your enemies can stand against it? Hah! I've heard it whisperedthat Manshoon of Zhentil Keep was put to flight by this girl! I say we keep ourranks safe and war no more upon this Shandril-unless time and Tymora weaken her sothat our chances are improved. Let others go after her and be the weaker for it! We shall reap the reward of their folly as the vulture dines upon the fieldsof fallen. "Swords have got us where we are today. Aye, not without art and divinefavor,I'll grant, but swords have kept rulers and bandits at bay. We do not needthis spellfire. Waste not our best blood on it!"

"Well said, Guindeen. Yet," Salvarad responded, "can we afford to let ourfoes win spellfire to wield against us? We should all then be destroyed.""You bring us to the hard choice, indeed," Naergoth Blade-lord said quietly,"and that brings us to the choice behind it: Who wants to go up against thisyoung maid?" He looked around the table, but the silence that followed grewheavy.No one moved or spoke. After a very long time, Naergoth said softly, "So beit. We are agreed. We put spellfire behind us and go on to work for the greaterglory of the dead dragons in other ways."There were reluctant nods, but no one said anything. It is difficult to laughat fear when one regularly dealt it often to others.They rode west, steadily. Narm peered warily all about as they traveled,expecting another attack. But Shandril found this forest somehow friendlierthan the Elven Court. Amid the thick tangle of trunks and gnarled limbs, one couldsee into the deep, hidden places. Vines hung in spidery tangles from highbranches to trunks. Ferns grew thick upon the ground, broken only in placeswhere limbs had fallen. Shandril looked here and there, at moss upon rocks and trunks, and at greatthick trees as large about as some cottages. But Narm saw only danger,possibleambushes, and concealing shadows. But as the day grew older and no attack came,he too began to enjoy the road to Deepingdale."It is beautiful," he said, as they came to the crest of a gentle rise in theroad and saw sunlight streaming down through the trees in a small clearing."Aye," Shandril said in a small voice. "I've never seen these woods before, even though I lived just a day's ride from here." She peered about. "Sometimes Iwish I'd never known this spellfire, and I could Just come home now with you,instead of fleeing a hundred or more half-mad mages.""Why not stay?" Narm replied. "You have the power to slay a hundred half-madmages."Shandril sighed. "Aye, maybe. But I'd lose the dale and my friends and even you,I don't doubt, in the process. Power ful mages always seem to destroy things about them. They work worsedevastation than forest fires and brigands. Sometimes I think life would be much simplerwithout art." "I said that to Elminster," Narm replied, "and he said not so. If I could seethe strange worlds he's walked, he said, I'd understand.""No, thank you," Shandril replied. "I've troubles enough, it seems, in thisworld." The road rose again through a leafy tunnel of old oaks, then gave way to an open area.Narm and Shandril rode close and quiet, side by side, looking all about themfor danger. Tiny, whiplike branches that had fallen from the trees above lay amidthe dead leaves and tangled gra.s.s and ferns like thin, dark faerie fingers,waiting to clutch or snap underfoot. They rode on, and still no attack came, nor did they meet travelers upon the road."This is eerie," Shandril said. "Where is everyone?""Elsewhere, for once," Narm said. "Be thankful, and ride while we have thechance! I would be free of the dales, where everyone knows us. Your spellfirecannot last-triumph-forever.""I have thought about that," Shandril said in a small voice. "Thus far, wehave been very lucky. More than that, we've fought many who did not know what theyfaced, even as do not. Before long, mages will come against us with spellsand devices of art prepared specifically to disable me or foil spellfire. Andthen how shall we fare?" "Ah, Shan, you moan a lot," Narm replied, exasperated. "I'm worried about you.You at least can strike back. Did you expect a life like in the ballads, allcheering and triumph and happy endings? No. Adventure, you wanted, adventure youhave. Did you hear Lanseril's definition of adventure, at that first feast inShadowdale?" Shandril wrinkled her brow. "I did overhear it, yes. Something about beingcursedly uncomfortable and hurt or afraid, and then telling everyone laterthat it was nothing.""Aye, that was it." They rode over another rise with still no sign of othertravelers on the road. "It is a long way to Silverymoon," Narm addedthoughtfully. "Do you remember all the Harpers Storm named for us, along theway?""Yes. Do you?" his lady replied impishly, and Narm shook his head. "I've forgotten half of them, I'm sure. I was not suited to be a worldtraveler?' Narm replied ruefully. "Nor was the tutelage of Marimmar veryuseful in that respect."Shandril laughed. "I'll bet." She looked at the woods about them. "If theRealms hold places as beautiful as this, mind you, I won't mind the trip ahead.""Even with a hundred or so evil priests and mages after our blood?"

Shandril wrinkled her nose. "Just dont call me 'Magekil-ler,' or anything ofthe sort. Remember-they come after me. I have no quarrel with them.""I'll remind the next dozen or so corpses of that," Narm replied dryly. "If youleave enough for me to speak to, that is."Shandril looked away from him, then, and said very softly, "Please do notspeakso of all the killing. I hate it. Never, never do I want to become so used toit that I grow careless of my power. Who knows when this spellfire might Jeaveme?

Then, Narm? I will have only your art to protect me. Think on that."

They rode down into a dell where moss grew in.k.n.o.bs and clumps of lush green amid the dead leaves. Small pools of water glistened under dark and rugged old trees. Narm looked around warily, as always, and said soberly, "Aye. I think of it often."

"It seems the fate of this Shandril to grow old unhindered-by us, at any rate"

Naergoth said dryly to Salvarad, when they were alone at the long table. "Is there any other business?"

"Aye, indeed. The matter of your mage. Malark was destroyed in Shadowdale-how,

know not-but Malark perished at the hands of Shandril."

"*bu are sure?"

"I watch closely, and others watch for me-and, all told, we miss little."

Naergoth looked at him expressionlessly. "What then have you seen in the way of mages to take the Purple in the place

of Malark?"

"Zannastar, certainly. You could even give him the Purple now. We have seven warriors and one mage.

"Well enough. Why Zannastar?"

"He is competent at art, but even more, he is biddable, something Malark was not."

"Aye, then. Who else?"

"The young one, Thiszult. A wild one-quiet but very reckless. He could be dangerous to us, or brilliant. Why not, alone and in secret, send him after the spellfire with four or six men-at-arms? He'll either bring it back or kill himself-or learn caution. WB cannot do ill by this."

"Oh? What if he comes back with spellfire and uses it against us?"

"I know his truename," Salvarad replied smugly, "though he doesn't know that any have learned it."

Naergoth nodded. "Send your wolf, then. Who knows? Perhaps he'll succeed where all the others have failed-ours and those of Bane and Zhentil Keep. This gauntlet weVe made the girl Shandril run will have its effect on her in the end, even if we've paid the price for it in blood thus far?'

Salvarad nodded. "Yes. She's only one maid, and not a war-tike one at that.

We'll have her in the end, spellfire or no spellfire. I mean to have the spellfire, too ... but if we take her alive, she's mine, Naergoth."

Naergoth raised an eyebrow. "You can have women much easier than that, Salvarad."

"Nay, you mistake me, Bladelord," Salvarad replied coldly. "The power she has handled . . . does things to people. I must learn certain things from her."

Naergoth said, "Then why not go after her yourself?"

Salvarad smiled thinly. "I am intrigued, Bladelord. I am not suicidal."

"Others have said that, you know."

"I know that well, Naergoth. Some of them even meant it."

Night came upon them while they were still in the woods. The night grew cold, and the couple drew their cloaks about them as they rode on. Mist rose among the trees.

Narm watched it drift and roll and said in a low voice, "I dont like this. An ambush would be all too easy in this mist."

"Yes" Shandril replied, "but all the wis.h.i.+ng in the world won't make any difference. We're not far, now-we can't be, for travelers who left the inn mid-morning fully expected to make Ta.s.seldale by nightfall. And there is no other road. We cannot have missed our way." She looked into the soft silence of the trees. Tangled branches hung still and dark in the mist. Nothing stirred, and no attack came.

Shandril sighed. "Come on," she said, spurring her horse into a trot. "Let's get safely to The Rising Moon. I would see Gorstag again."

The fire burned low in the hearth, and it fell quiet in the taproom of The Rising Moon as the last of the few guests went up to bed.

Lureene quietly swept up fallen sc.r.a.ps of bread as Gorstag made the rounds of the doors. She heard his measured tread upon the boards in the kitchen and smiled.

So she was smiling in the dim glow of the dying fire when Gorstag, who carried no candle when he walked alone by night, preferring the dark, came into the room.

"My love," he said softly. "I would ask something of you this night."

"It is yours, lord," Lureene said affectionately. "You know that." She reached for the lacings of her bodice.

Gorstag coughed. "Ah . . . nay, la.s.s, I be serious ... ah, I mean, oh, G.o.ds look down!" He drew a deep breath as he walked slowly up to her in the dimness and asked very quietly and formally, "Lureene, I am Gorstag of Highmoon, a wors.h.i.+pper of Tymora and lempus in my time, and a man of some moderate means.

Will you marry me?"

Lureene looked at him, mouth open, for a very long time. Then she was suddenly in his arms, looking up at him with very large, dark eyes. "My lord, you need not... marry me. It was not my intention to-ah, trap you into such a union."

"Do you not want to be my wife?" Gorstag asked slowly, roughly. "Please tell me true...."

"I would like nothing more than to be your wife, Gorstag,"

Lureene said firmly. His smile then was like a sudden flash of the sun in the darkness, as his arms tightened about her.

"I accept," Lureene added, gasping for breath. "Kiss me, now, don't hug the life from me!" Their tips met, and Lureene let out a little moan of happiness.

Gorstag held her as if she were a very fragile and beautiful thing that he feared to break. They stood together so, among the tables, as the front door of the inn creaked gently open, and a cool breeze drifted in about their ankles.

Gorstag turned, hand going to his belt. "Aye?" he demanded, before his night-keen eyes showed him who had come.

Lureene turned in his arms and let out a happy cry. "Shandril!"

"Yes," said a small voice. "Gorstag? Can you forgive me?"

"Forgive you, little one?" Gorstag rumbled, striding forward to embrace her.

"What's to forgive? Are you well? Where have you been? How-"

Outside, there was a snort and a creak of leather, and in mid-sentence, Gorstag said, "But you have horses to see to! Sit down, sit down with Lureene, who has a surprise to tell you, and I'll learn all when I'm done."

"I'm married, Gorstag," Shandril said quickly. "He's- Nairn's with the horses."

Gorstag threw her a surprised look, but he never slowed his step. By thelightof the fire, Shandril saw tears wet upon his cheeks, and then he was gone.Lureene threw her arms about Shandril. "Lady Luck be praised, Shan! You'reback and safe! Gorstag has been so worried about you, ah, but now . . . but now-"She burst into tears and held Shandril tightly.Shandril felt tears of her own stinging her eyes, and she gulped quickly toforestall a happy flood. "Lureene . . . Lureene ..." she managed, voicebreaking. "We cannot stay. Half the mages in Faerun are after us, and we're a menace to you even by being here."Fearfully, she stared at the barmaid. She was touched that Lureene had missedher so-she'd always thought the older girl must find her tiresome. Now shefeared to lose what she had so fleetingly seen, swept away by fear. Lureenemet her gaze and smiled, shaking her head slightly.

"Ah, little kitten, you have been hurt indeed, to fear these doors shut toyou,"Lureene said sadly. "If to see you again, we must entertain a few thousand angrymages, entertain them we shall, Gorstag and I, and think it a small price to pay."Ah, Shan, thank you! Thank you! You've made Gorstag so happy, he's like ayoungling again-did you not see him stride and spring to the door? YouVe madehim happy again, the way he has not been since you left.""But we must leave again, on the morrow," Shandril said, teetering on theedgeof tears. "How-?" "He will understand, Shan. He knows you are not ours any more-I dont doubtthat he's taking the measure of your man right now! It's just that he didnt knowwhat had befallen you. Could you not have left a note or some word?"Shandril cried uncontrollably, emptying out all the fear and regrets andhomesickness of the days since she'd fled the inn, seeking adventure. Lureeneheld her tightly and rocked her wordlessly, until at last Shandril's sobbinghad died away to shuddering breaths.Then she kissed Shandril's bent head and said softly, "Do not be so full ofsorrows, little kitten. I am most grateful to you." The body in her arms made a sort of bleating, questioning sound. Lureene hugged it still more tightly andsaid, "Gorstag was so upset over you, one night, that he could not sleep. I came to comfort him. He'd never have permitted me to do as did, if he'd not been so in need of comfort. And he would not have asked me to be his wife." Shandril looked up, hair all across her reddened eyes in disarray. "He did?Gorstag? Oh, Lureene!" Her tears were happy this time, and she hugged Lureenewith bruising force. Ye G.o.ds, Lureene thought, stepping back to hold herbalance, if this is what adventure does for a woman . . .A woman? Shandril? But-aye! She is a woman, now, Lureene thought, holding herbythe shoulders and meeting her delighted laughter with a fond smile. This wasnot the girl who'd slipped away from the kitchen.This was a lady with a lord of her own-and something else. Something beyond the weapons worn so easily at hip and boottops ... a quiet sort of confidence, ofpower hidden. Yet none of the loud arrogance of the adventurers who came tothe inn for a night of revelry and often left, made wiser by Gorstag*s hands and tongue,shamefacedly."Shandril, what has happened to you?" she asked quietly.Shandril gave her a strange, almost haunted look. "Oh," she said in awhisper."You can see it so clearly then, can you?"Lureene nodded. "Aye. But I know not what it is." She raised a hand toShandril's lips. "No . . . tell me not, if you would not. I do not need toknow." "But you should know," Shandril said simply. "It is not something easilybelieved, though. I hope Gorstag will be able to tell me more about why Ihave it." Lureene grinned at her suddenly. "Then it can wait until after you've satdown and soaked your feet and eaten. I'll wake Korvan.""Nol" Shandril said sharply. Lureene turned to look a question at her. "No,please," Shandril pleaded. "Wake him not. I cannot trust his cooking-nooffense to you-for my own good reasons. I'll cook, if you will have me."Lureene nodded, looking troubled. "Did Korvan ... bother you?" she asked with a little frown. "It is not that," Shandril said. "Please trust me, and wake him not. I'lltell you, but it is better not to rouse him.""Then I'll not leave your side unless your man or Gorstag is at hand toprotectyou while you are here," Lureene said firmly. "You can tell me what you likeafter you've rested." She reached out her hand. "Come here by the fire."Shandril let herself be led and sat in a warm chair with a high back. Lureenepoked the fire up into new flames and set fresh, dry wood on it, and went for a bowl. When she returned, Shandril's head had fallen onto her shoulders, andshe was asleep.Narm held the bridles of both horses, tense-ready to flee hurriedly if needbe. He looked about him in the moonlit mist of the road, but he heard no creaturemoving in the rolling silence. Wait, Shandril had said. Come after me onlywhen you have stood so long that you grow cold-and if youp GREENWOODwait that long, mind you come most careful, ready for War. Nairn s.h.i.+ftednervously. Was he cold enough, yet? There was noise within.Then the door that Shandril had entered was flung wide. A burly, craggy-facedman with gray-white hair and level gray eyes wet with tears strode out. Hestretched out a strong arm to Narm and said, "Well met, and welcome to theinn! I am Gorstag. You are Shandril's Narm?"Narm met his gaze squarely and swallowed. "Yes.-I was here almost two monthsback with the mage Marimmar. Shandril has told me of you, sir. I am at yourservice." Gorstag chuckled. "Well, you can be of service," he said gruffly, "by leadingone mount around to the stables with me." He set off with a horse and three mules in tow.

Narm followed him into a place where a sleepy boy on night watch unhooded alantern for them and fetched water, brushes, and feed. In companionablesilence,they set to work."You know the art?" Gorstag asked softly, as they both bent to the samebucket. Narm nodded. "I was trained in Shadowdale as a conjurer. Shandril and I have come straightfrom there, where we were wed under Tymora." Narm felt suddenly shy underthis old man's stern, clear eyes. He said no more, then, as he turned back toWarrior, who rumbled appreciatively. He turned from the horse's flank a fewbreaths later to find his gaze collected by Gorstag's. Unconsciously, Narmtook a step back, but he said nothing. At last, Gorstag nodded and turned back tothe first of the three mules. "Tell me, if you will, how you met Shandril Shessair/' he said softly. Themule p.r.i.c.ked its ears at him, but it was clear that he expected no answer from it.Narm studied the innkeeper's broad shoulders for a moment."I saw her first here and... liked what I saw, though we did not speak. Inthe morning, I left with my master, and we made our way to Myth Drannor"Gorstag's arms stopped their rhythmic brus.h.i.+ngs for a moment, and thenresumed. "We met with devils, and Marimmar, my master, was slain. I was rescued fromthe same fate, by the Knights of Myth Drannor, who patrol there."Later I returned to Myth Drannor and saw Shandril from afar. She was thecaptive of a cruel mage, The Shadows!!, and I tried to free her. I called onthe knights for aid, and we ended up in caverns where a dracolich laired.Shandril and I were trapped together when the cavern collapsed during a mighty battleof art. We thought we'd never get out, so..." Narm paused, studying the mulebefore him, and then sighed and turned to face Gorstag. "We came to care for eachother. I love her. So I asked her to marry me."Tb Nairn's surprise, Gorstag nodded and chuckled. "Aye. It is the same forme." He made a clucking noise, and the sta-bleboy reappeared immediately. Gorstagnodded. "See to them all... the very best, mind, as if a fine lord and ladyrode them." He waved to Narm to follow him out, and then turned back to the boyand added, "Because they do."As they went back around the side of the inn in the moonlit, misty night,Gorstag said, "My house is open to you both, but you seem in much haste. Howlong can you stay?"Narm hesitated. "We must leave on the morrow, sir," he said quietly. "Manyhave tried to slay us-slay Shandril, actually-these past days, and they will nodoubt try again. Mfe dare not tarry. Elminster told us to be sure to call on you,and Shandril insisted too, but there is danger to us here, waiting, and we wouldnot bring it upon you."

"Can you say more?" Gorstag asked. "I will not stay you, and Elminster is a name I set great store by, but I would rest easier, Narm-and call me Gorstag, mark you!-to know where and why the little girl I raised these years pa.s.sing is riding, and who would do her ill, and why."

"I have not the right to answer you, Gorstag," Narm replied. "Only my lady should speak on this. I can say that those who pursue us are of different causes, but all, it seems, are powerful in art. Therein lies your peril and Shandril's secret."

They went inside the inn, only to find Lureene regarding them with a finger to her lips, as she knelt beside a chair before the fire. Narm raced forward at the sight. Behind him, Gorstag smiled.

"She sleeps," Lureene said softly as Narm bent anxiously near. Shandril moved her head and murmured something.

They all came close to listen.

"Narm," she said. "Narm, we're here. We're home. Wait here... wake Gorstag...

come carefully, ready for war ..."

Narm kissed her cheek, and in her sleep she raised a hand slowly to pat at his head, smiling. Then, suddenly, she was upset. "She went for you," Shandril cried faintly. "She went for you, and there was not time! I had to burn her!"

"Shan! Shan!" Narm said urgently, shaking her awake. "It's all right. . .

we're safe."

"Yes, safe," Shandril said, awake now, looking up at him. "Safe at last." She kissed his hand on her shoulder.

Then her eyes moved to Gorstag, who stood looking gravely down at her. "I am sorry," she said slowly. "I did not wish to be such a trial to you. I should have told you where I'd gone. I was a fool."

"We all play at fools," Gorstag said with a smile. "*bu are back safely, and nothing else matters now."

Shandril thanked him with her eyes and said, "We cannot stay, I fear. We are fleeing from far too many to vanquish or avoid if we stand and stay. We must ride on in the morning."

"So Narm said," Gorstag replied. "And he said it was for you to tell us why.

Will you, la.s.s?" Shandril nodded.

"Have you ever heard of spellfire?" she asked.

Gorstag nodded, sadly. "Your mother had it," he said softly. "Oh, la.s.s. Oh, Shandril. Beware the cult."