All Shadows Fled - Ed Greenwood [96]
Sharantyr gritted her teeth and managed a sprint, her raw joints and blistered feet shrieking in protest. Catching up to Itharr a bare three paces from Treesedge, she snarled, "Walk across someone's crops, and they'll kill you! We go that way until we strike the road!"
She pointed, and Itharr gave her a dirty look. He sighed and began to trudge in the indicated direction. Tou never spared two breaths about turnips before!"
"I was never hungry enough to eat raw turnips before!" Sharantyr snarled back at him.
Behind them, Belkram chuckled wearily and waved a hand. "Lead on, the pair of you… and talk to me of roast goose, and gravy and old ale… ham and dressed pheasant and stuffed snake-not gods-be-kissed turnipsr
"Ye gods!" Itharr cried, slapping his forehead. "The snake! You forgot to bring the snake!" He turned reproachful eyes on Belkram. "We could've eaten that snake!"
"No," Belkram corrected, "You could've eaten that snake. I saw all the human skulls in its lair."
"Death, death, death," Sharantyr muttered. "Is that all adventurers talk about?"
Belkram gave her a look. "Well, let's see-there are other topics: butchering monsters for the stew pot, burning helpless villages, pillage, ra-"
"Death it is," Sharantyr said firmly. "Only a few hundred more paces now. Talk to me of death."
"Only a few hundred more paces?" Itharr gasped. "Good! Go and make them for me, so I can fall asleep right… here…"
"Oh no, you don't," Sharantyr said, pulling hard on his hair as he sagged. "Come on-I'm sure that tree wants to grow to reach the light, and it can't if you're draped all over it, snoring like a flatulent bull! Mover
"Yes, sir!" Itharr responded sarcastically, moving smartly forward for all of three paces before sinking into a weary walk once more,
"Gods above preserve me," Sharantyr said through clenched teeth. "Men!"
"Oh, dear," Belkram said to Itharr. "She's noticed! I guess that means we have to go way off into the bushes, now, whenever we have to…"
"What she hasn't noticed," Itharr retorted, stumbling in the weariness of utter exhaustion, "is that the gods aren't above anymore-that's what this whole trouble's about… as Elminster said."
"Good old Elminster," Belkram said sadly, putting one foot in front of the other and almost falling out into the road.
"Well, granted I look bad this morning," growled the wispy-bearded guard who caught hold of his shoulder to steady him, "but I'm sure I don't look that bad. No, El-minster's dead, friend… and so will ye be if ye don't convince me of thy rightful loyalty-and fast."
He gulped as the ghostly head of the Witch of Shadowdale came floating out of the trees to hang in front of him. "Well met, Guthtar," she said softly. "You remember me, do you not?"
"A-Aye, Lady," the guard stammered as Itharr and Sharantyr came out of the trees. "And her, too!" The six guards behind him fell back to get weapon room, eyeing all these sudden arrivals warily.
"Aye," Sylune said dryly. "I've noticed you never forget a fair-looking female. You are going to let Lord Mourngrym's patrol pass, aren't you?"
"Of course, Lady! Uh, begging thy pardons, sirs and Lady-uh, Lady and Lady… ah-oh, dungr
"And a pleasant good morning to you, too, Guthtar," Sylun6 said with a smile, floating serenely past the sputtering guard. Belkram met Guthtar's eyes, spread his hands in silent commiseration, and followed. Itharr and Sharantyr trudged along in Belkram's wake, leaning on each other.
"Oh, gods," the lady ranger yawned. At a weary stagger, she neared the crossroads. "We must never let ourselves get this tired again!"
"I tried to tell those last four Zhents that," Belkram told her, "I really did! But they just kept on snarling and waving swords at us, and, well…"
"Back from patrol, I see," Hammerhand Bucko called cheerfully from his doorway. They waved at him-the gesture almost made Itharr fall over-and went on, not daring to stop now for fear of collapse.
"Lhaeo? Lhaeo!" Sylune called, her head dancing up and down in the air to snare the scribe's attention. "Lhaeo!"
Elminster's