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You at least can strike back. Did you expect a life like in the ballads, all
cheering and triumph and happy endings? No. Adventure, you wanted, adventure
you have. Did you hear Lanseril's definition of adventure, at that first feast
in Shadowdale?"
Shandril wrinkled her brow. "I did overhear it, yes. Something about being
cursedly uncomfortable and hurt or afraid, and then telling everyone later
that it was nothing."
"Aye, that was it." They rode over another rise with still no sign of other
travelers on the road. "It is a long way to Silverymoon," Narm added
thoughtfully. "Do you remember all the Harpers Storm named for us, along the
way?"
"Yes. Do you?" his lady replied impishly, and Narm shook
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his head.
"I've forgotten half of them, I'm sure. I was not suited to be a world
traveler?' Narm replied ruefully. "Nor was the tutelage of Marimmar very
useful in that respect."
Shandril laughed. "I'll bet." She looked at the woods about them. "If the
Realms 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 of
the 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
you leave enough for me to speak to, that is."
Shandril looked away from him, then, and said very softly, "Please do not
speak so of all the killing. I hate it. Never, never do I want to become so
used to it that I grow careless of my power. Who knows when this spellfire
might Jeave me? Then, Narm? I will have only your art to protect me. Think on
that."
They rode down into a dell where moss grew in.knobs 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,
I 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
SPELLFIRE
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.
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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 wishing 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 Tasseldale 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 scraps 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, lass, I be serious ... ah, I mean, oh, gods
look down!" He drew a deep breath as he walked slowly up to her in the dimness [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
