All Shadows Fled - Ed Greenwood [70]
"Fine, sounds sensible. Let's be doing it," Illisty! said, rising from the table. "I weary of talk. Merith, have you found me a horse?"
"What's wrong with your palfrey?" Mourngrym asked.
"Killed in the battle," Storm informed him curtly. Illistyl nodded, her eyes bright with sudden tears, but said nothing.
Across the table, Torm was in full flight again, leaning around Belkram to smile at Sharantyr.
"Good, my lady," the thief said with a leer, his eyes bright, "I could see my way clear to ably guard so beautiful a flower of the dale! Wouldst thou permit me to accompany thee on patrol?"
Sharantyr almost smiled. "I've grown used to Belkram and Itharr, thanks," she said crisply, taking the arms of the two Harper rangers seated on either side of her.
"I did not mean merely myself, Lady," Torm said, his manner suddenly serious. "Three blades and a disembodied voice isn't enough battle might for what you might well run into."
" Ill be going with them, Torm," Storm said quietly.
Heads turned in surprise all around the table, but the Bard of Shadowdale was looking at the three rangers. "If you'll have me?" she asked quietly.
"Right gladly, Lady," Belkram said, glancing quickly at his companions for confirmation, and receiving it.
A frown had come onto Mourngrym's face, "Torm may have a point about strength of arms. I was thinking of sending you Knights out on the first patrol east; there's word of a Zhent mageling rallying forty or more Zhen-tilar in the woods."
"I'll look forward to meeting them," Storm said in silken tones. More than one person around that council table shivered at the sound of the bard's voice.
"Are we agreed?" Mourngrym asked, standing up and looking down the table. There was a general affirmative chorus, and he said briskly, "Good-now get gone, all of you, so I can bathe and get dressed and have some fooxi that clever Knights don't snatch off my plate!"
Chuckles and mocking salutes answered him.
Mourngrym made for his bedchamber, shook his head, and reflected-not for the first time-how untenable a position he held, the junior member of a band of adventurers who handed him the lordship of a dale after they were finished with it, but stayed around to drive him witless!
Growling faintly at the thought, he pushed back through the curtains, Shaerl in his wake.
The morning room cleared quickly. When it was quite empty, something moved under the table-something that looked like old and dark wood, but flowed downward to the floor, peeling itself free of the table's underside. It stretched like a hungry snake, slithered out from under the furniture, and rose swiftly, taking on the shape and appearance of one of the tower servants.
The Malaugrym glanced quickly around, but no one was in sight. The servant who was not a servant paused for a long moment to survey the table admiringly. Ahorga had always liked maps.
Elven Court woods, Flamerule 22
The embers crackled and glowed ruby red. The two women sat with their backs to it, facing outward on watch, listening to the faint scuttlings and hootings that mark any forest by night. They were in the Elven Court woods, well south of Voonlar, most of the way through their first night on patrol.
Itharr and Belkram had turned over watch duties to them not long ago, and were well and truly asleep, snoring faintly into their cloaks.
"How many nights have you spent thus?" Sharantyr asked quietly.
Behind her, Storm laughed softly. "Hundreds."
The ghostly tresses of Sylune turned, from where her disembodied head floated at Sharantyr's shoulder. "Thousands, Sister," she corrected.
"That's right-emphasize how old we are," Storm said, amused. "I try not to make people feel uncomfortable or lessened