Crown of Fire - Ed Greenwood [126]
"My quick way out," she said with a smile. "Touch the back wall and you'll be taken to my favorite inn, where I go to rest from time to time, I fear the trip, for you, works only in one direction."
"We can force ourselves to be content with that," Mirt assured her sagely, "I'd kiss ye farewell, Myrin, but ye might catch something," He waved at her, and stepped into the closet, The others followed.
The world seemed to blink for a moment, then Shandril found herself standing on a grassy bank with trees all around her. The sun was high and warm; it was just before highsun.
"Where are we?" Belarla asked before Shandril could, Mirt waved an expansive hand. "Step around those trees, ladies, and cross the road."
They all went together, Shandril found herself looking at the village of Eveningstar, at the spot where the overland roads met, by the bridge over the River Starwater. Across the way rose the friendly, ramshackle bulk of The Lonesome Tankard, its signboard creaking slightly in the breeze,
"Ah, the Tankard," Belarla said with pleasure, "Well, Myrintara certainly knows the good places to stay."
"A hot bath," was all Oelaerone said, fishing around for her purse in the bodice of her soaked, stained, ruined gown.
Mirt chuckled. "We've business with Tessaril, ladies," he said. "My thanks-perhaps well talk, this even or on the morrow."
The Harper pleasure-queens rolled their eyes, "Just don't knock on our doors and demand aid or a rescue," Belarla said. "We've done our share for a tenday or so,"
"Or so, indeed," Oelacrone echoed. "Gods smile, you two," They waved farewell, crossed the road, and went into the Tankard, As they went up the road together, Shandril tried not to smell the reek coming off them both. She looked at Mirt curiously and asked, "Why didn't you stay with Myrintara, Old Wolf?"
Mirt looked at her sidelong, "I was young and restless, lass, Besides," he added, "did ye not notice-she never stops laughing! In bed, at table, in the bath-my ears grew sore, in the end."
Shandril stared at him-and then started to laugh helplessly.
Mirt looked hurt, "I don't look that funny," he complained. She was still laughing as they came to the porch of Tessaril's Tower.
One of the guards looked at them, peered a second time, and then turned and called "They're back!
And-" He staggered hastily out of the way as a white-faced Narm and a broadly smiling Storm charged out of the tower to embrace the two, heedless of the stench and dirt Narm kissed Shandril repeatedly.
"Gods, I was scared, Shan. Are you all right?"
Shandril found herself suddenly crying into his chest. "I-I don't know," she managed to say, between happy sobs,
"Well. come in, and we'll find out," Tessaril said from the doorway, and wrinkled her nose, "And you can both have a bath-or three."
Chapter 19
SPELLSTORM COMING
Dragons, lad? Let me sleep… no, I'm not impressed-not even if the sky was full of 'em, I've seen a spellstorm, lad and I'd have to see gods walking the Realms to top that.
The character Nimrith the Old Warrior
in the play Much Ado in Sembia Malarkin Norlbertusz of Ordulin
Year of the Prince
Tessaril's bathroom was surprisingly luxurious. Shandril sighed blissfully as the warm, scented water sluiced away the filth of the citadel's sewers, She ran weary fingers back through her hair, opened her eyes, and found Belarla grinning at her in shared contentment from the next tub, soap suds sliding slowly down her front.
"What made you choose to become Harpers?" Shandril asked curiously.
Belarla smiled. The two Harpers had been delighted at Tessaril's invitation. Across the room, Oelaerone was soaping her hair with quick, expert motions. She flung her head back to keep soap out of her eyes, turned, and said, "We wanted a taste of adventure."
"Adventure? But you're"-Shandril fumbled for words for a moment-"pleasure-queens." Belarla raised an eyebrow, "Any task grows boring, Shan, if you do it over and