Crown of Fire - Ed Greenwood [113]
Torm snatched up a goblet. "Drink this, Narm! You'll feel better,"
Storm shook her head. "It's not the universal cure you think it is, Torm" The hard put her arms comfortingly on Narm's shoulders, but the young mage seemed not to feel them,
"Where is she?" Narm almost screamed, and then went on, voice trembling, "We must go to her, Now!"
Storm looked at the Lord of Eveningstar. "Have you spells enough?"
Torm asked quickly, "And what should I do?"
"Belt up before any more time's wasted," Mirt said roughly, "and ye, Tess, go and get me one or two o' them healing potions ye keep stowed away, Hurry!"
They all looked at him. and then Tessaril nodded and rushed out, Mint drew his sword and slashed at the air. The blade gleamed in the light.
Narm' s reddened eyes followed it, and the young mage clenched his jaw. "What's your plan?"
The Old Wolf grinned at him but said nothing. Then Mirt's smile turned rather grim as he brought out the notched and battered axe that had been Delg's. He hefted it in his other hand. "Where're those potions?" he bellowed.
Tessaril ran in, hair streaming behind her in her haste, "Here," she gasped, thrusting two steel vials into his hand, Mirt jammed them into his belt, sighed heavily, and gestured at Narm. "Guard him here, lass."
Tessaril nodded, and came forward to kiss him, "Guard yourself, Old Wolf," she said, eyes bright "I'd like to see you-alive-again."
Mirt laughed, accepted her quick peck on his grizzled cheek, and said, "Ye will, lass. Ye will."
"If I've got to die," he roared at them all. "I'd like to have a kiss to remember, at the last, Pray to Tymora for me!"
Torm spread his arms pleadingly. "Kiss me, Old dolt," he trilled in mocking imitation of a swooning maiden. "Oh, kiss me!"
Mirt glared at him and backhanded his almost empty goblet off the table. It sailed into Torm's face. The thief was still sputtering when the old merchant bowed to them all, murmured something, and vanished.
Narm looked around the room and said grimly, "Can everyone here cast a teleport spell except me?"
Storm gathered him into her arms, "That was no teleport, Narm. Do you remember the gem Shandril found in Tethgard-the rogue stone?"
Narm nodded, frowning, tears still bright on his cheeks. "Delg and Mirt knew something about it that they weren't telling,"
"Undoubtedly," Storm said dryly. "Mirt put it there for her to find, It was prepared by Khelben the Blackstaff and linked to a spell that many a thief has used down the years, which lets one who speaks the right words teleport to wherever the stone is, long after the spell is cast. Mirt's at Shandril's side right now,"
Narm looked at her and asked very softly, "And why not me?"
"You'd be killed, idiot," Torm told him, "unless you've learned a god's ransom of spells since I saw you last. Those Zhentarim'd blast you to ash before you could draw breath to cast your first spell."
Narin stared at him.
"Blunt," Storm told the young mage gently, "but true," "Besides, you can't follow her until I memorize another teleport spell," Tessaril said, "and I'm reluctant to do that."
"Why not?" Narm almost screamed,
Tessaril turned her back. "I won't send you to certain death," she said, voice trembling.
"You sent Shan!"
"I-couldn't stop her, Narm. I can stop you."
Narm stared at her back, fresh tears on his face, "Let me be with Shan!" he cried in anguish, "Please!"
Sadly, Tessaril shook her head and turned to meet his gaze with dark eyes that held tears of their own.
"Shandril and Mirt can both withstand far more than you can, Norm. You'd wind up a hostage in Fzoul's hands, one he could use to compel Shandril to surrender, Then spellfire would be his, after all,"
Narm s eyes blazed, Abruptly he whirled away from her gaze to stamp the length of the chamber and back again. "I should be there!" he protested and turned away again,
"Gods look down damnation," he cursed, Then he pivoted slowly to face the Lord of Eveningstar again.
"There's another