All Shadows Fled - Ed Greenwood [71]
"I was the Witch of Shadowdale, remember? Making people wary of me was the best way to hold power over them without ever harming anyone," Sylune replied.
Sharantyr sighed. "You seem so carefree," she said, shifting the naked long sword that lay across her thighs so that moonlight caught it at one end, and a faint red glow from the fire touched the other. She flicked it idly, watching the play of light on the steel. "Is it because you've both seen it all before?"
"Partly, Shar," Storm replied, "and partly because we've learned to try to enjoy everything, from being whipped in chains as a slave to being wooed by well-endowed princes."
"To clinging to the spar of a ship breaking apart in a storm," Sylune put in, sounding amused. "To lying paralyzed under the probes of a drow mage trying to determine if your powers lie in organs he can remove, or if youll have to be bred to drow to give them your abilities."
Sharantyr shivered. "Don't speak of drow, please…"
"My apologies, Shar," the ghostly head beside her said quickly. "We both spoke of moments from our own experiences-I forgot that you'd been a captive of the drow, too."
Sharantyr turned her head. "You were a slave?"
"For years," the Bard of Shadowdale told her. "Not entirely bad years, either… though I never did develop any enjoyment for being whipped."
"What do you mean, 'not entirely bad years'?" Shar asked incredulously. "How can you enjoy anything about being a slave?"
"That's what we were trying to say, you see," Sylune said softly. "It's not what the gods hand you in life that matters so much, nor what your strivings achieve or fail in the attempt. Whatever befalls, the best way to view life is to savor every moment of it, no matter how sordid or unpleasant… for one thing, the gods give us all only a certain span of time, and time wasted-in misery, despair, drunkenness, or casual inattention-is time gone forever."
"I see what you're saying," Sharantyr said slowly, "but you'll forgive me if I take some time getting to enjoy fighting in great battles, or falling into cesspits, or listening to Torm."
Trying not to laugh aloud, Storm shook with deep, bubbling laughter for a long time before she found breath enough to speak again. "Well said," were her first words. "Do you feel like talking about what befell in the Castle of Shadows?"
Shar chuckled helplessly. "I-I suppose so. What do you want to know?"
"Do you recall Elminster's burning the bodies of the Malaugrym you slew, back at the ruined manor in Daggerdale?" Sylune asked.
Shar nodded, but realized they couldn't see the gesture in the dark, and said cautiously, "Yes."
"He wasn't simply being tidy," the ghostly figure told her. "He was using a spell that destroys the bodies of the recently dead even as it yields up their last few moments of thought. In one of the Malaugrym was a strong desire to slay you-because another Malaugrym, who did not enter Faerun at the time, wanted you as his mate. Another of the dead Malaugrym was reluctant to attack you for the same reason; the Malaugrym who favored you was his ally."
Sharantyr drew a deep, shuddering breath. "I see. You're wondering if I pine after some Malaugrym lord, or perhaps even carry a little shapeshifter-to-be within."
"No," Storm said sharply. "Even if either or both of those conditions were true, they are your affairs. We merely meant that it's apparent to us all that some adventures befell all three of you that went beyond 'See Malaugrym, slay Malaugrym, run run run/ "
Shar giggled. "That sounds elegant."
"Indeed," Sylune agreed dryly. "So give, Lady Shar-antyr. What did you learn in the Castle of Shadows? And I don't mean about Malaugrym, or shapeshifting, or the nature of ever-shifting Shadowhome. I mean about yourself."
"About myself?"
"About Belkram and Itharr, then," Storm said gently. "How are my two half-trained Harpers?"
"Very good companions and able protectors. Belkram has a touch of Torm in him, I think."
Shar heard Storm's silent amusement at that observation, and went on, "Itharr is quieter, and there's a darkness