All Shadows Fled - Ed Greenwood [97]
"Itharr, give my stone to Lhaeo, will you?" Sylune floated close to the scribe's head and asked him, "Could you take me to Storm, please, good scribe? We have much to talk about."
Lhaeo blinked at her as Itharr handed him the stone. "Of course, Lady-'tis where I'm headed." He turned his head to look at the unshaven ranger, and said, "You folks look tired."
"No, really? And I spent all morning doing my hair!" Itharr told him with weary sarcasm. He set off grimly toward the tower.
"Fare you well, Lhaeo," Sharantyr added.
The scribe smiled wanly and waved. The three rangers nodded wearily to him and walked the last stretch of road to the Twisted Tower.
"Ohh, I'm so tired!" Sharantyr wailed. "And my feet hurt so muchr
"At least you've still got feet," Belkram said darkly. "Mine wore off about ten hours back."
"Try scratching all your itches," Itharr said without turning. "It helps to keep you awake."
"Could we ride on patrol next time?" Shar asked as they turned up the tower path.
'Through all those trees? We'd be wanting some eel-horses, rd guess," said Belkram.
"Just a few more steps, friends," Itharr mumbled. "Just a few more steps…"
Then he noticed the row of gleaming breastplates and crossed forearms blocking their way. His eyes traveled up to the hard faces above them, but he recognized no one. Seven guards he'd never seen before were ranged across the open doorway of the Tower of Ashaba. They wore splendid chased armor and light helms in the hot summer sun, and their hairy forearms and corded thighs glistened with sweat. They were not moving aside.
"Stand aside, friends," Itharr said wearily, "before we fall over."
"And who are you three?" the centermost guard asked coolly. "Travelers generally stay at the Old Skull Inn-at the crossroads, down there. Beggars had best go to the temples… there's a house of Tymora just across the river, there."
As he'd spoken, Belkram and Sharantyr had straggled up to face the guards. Shar sighed and let her head sink into her hands. No. No, not now. Her knees sagged, and Belkram put his arms around her to hold her up, swaying himself.
"We have chambers awaiting us in the tower behind you," Itharr said quietly, taking two steps to the right so he could lean on the nearest hitching post.
"Oh? How so? Are you, then, lords and ladies of Shadowdale?"
"She is," Itharr said, waving a hand. "The Lady Sharantyr."
"Sharantyr? It's not a name known to me," the guard-captain said jovially. "Any of you heard of a Sharantyr, lads? Eh?"
There was a general chorus of chuckled nays. Itharr regarded them with dull eyes. "You're all new hires, aren't you?"
"Thurbal engaged us some days ago," the guardcap-tain said a trifle stiffly. "We hail from Westgate."
"Belgard's boys?" Belgard was a retired mercenary whose school turned out guards known for their efficient cruelty and alertness; his graduates had gained swift popularity among the merchants of Sembia, and generally cost a client food, accommodation, armor, and over five silver pieces a day.
"Yes," the guardcaptain said shortly, "and we've been hired to keep brigands and ZhentiJar out of this tower, see? So clear off, all of you-now!"
The three bedraggled figures in leather made no move. A light, rhythmic sound came from the female among them-the sound of snoring.
One of the guards snorted in amusement, and stepped forward. He bore a long baton in his hand, and used it to rap Sharantyr none too gently on the shoulder. "Hey! Wake up and clear off! You've heard the order. Now go!"
"Stand back, friend," Belkram suggested gently, "or I'll awaken enough to grow annoyed."
The guard cocked his head to one side, hands on hips. "Oh you will, will you?" he said sarcastically. "I quaver at the prospect!"
"Are you lot going to stand aside?" Itharr said. "We'd very much like to report in to Mourngrym."
"Lord Mourngrym's out riding the northern reaches," the guardcaptain told him silkily,