Crown of Fire - Ed Greenwood [128]
"My, lad, but don't ye wear the crown of martyrdom well," Mirt said sarcastically. "All of us gripe at what the gods have given us in life-but the best of us go out and do something about it. Can't ye see yer lady's trying to do just that?"
Narm glared at him and then nodded reluctantly. "I still think it'd be wiser to run for Silverymoon nowour best chance for a safe trip is while the Zhentarim are still disorganized."
"Giving them time to rebuild and try for you again," Oelaerone put in, – 'as Shan says,"
"A new leader will take them after new things-not throw more wizards away in going after spellfire when it's cost them so much already," Narm argued, Mirt growled. "Bah! Where's Elminster, now that we need him to talk some sense into ye? Ye would turn down spellfire if ye led the Zhents-but power draws them, as moths flutter about a flame, and they will snatch again and again at the flame, even after they've been burned a time or two."
Narm looked thoughtful, "After all the deaths and the citadel laid waste around them? You really think so?" Mirt's expression was exasperated. "Lad, lad-never credit the Zhents with too much good sense.
What have they been doing to ye since Shadowdale, eh? Trying for ye again and again, whale'er their losses."
Narm stared at the far wall for a moment and then said, 'You're right That's exactly what they've been doing," He looked at Mirt. "I'm sorry-I haven't your experience, and shouldn't be arguing with what you've seen to be true."
Mirt reached a long arm around Belarla and clapped Narm s shoulder with enough force to make the young sage bounce in his chair, "That's all right, lad. Never known a young wizard that didn't argue, Besides," he rumbled gently, "I lost ye Delg. The least I can do is give ye half the good advice he would have."
"Come what may," Shandril said to her husband, "I'm going back to the citadel-now, while most of the Zhentarim are gathered there hunting for my blood-and bring all this harrying to an end once and for all. This time, at least, I'll have some friends with me,"
"Aye,' Mirt rumbled. "We're all coming," There was a chorus of agreement.
Narm nodded finally and said, "Agreed," Then he looked at Tessaril, a question in his eyes.
The Lord of Eveningstar nodded, "I have teleport scrolls ready for all of us, including you-and a sorceress once showed me how to work what she called a 'mass teleport' where we all go together. This time," she added simply, "the battle must be for all-or nothing."
Mirt nodded. "Let's eat first," he growled.
As the group rose and began filing out toward the kitchen, Mirt steered the young mage by one elbow out the door, across the entry hall, and up the grand stair, When they'd reached the seclusion of the statues above. Mirt stopped among them and said grimly, "Listen, lad, we Harpers're along to see to the Zhents that Shan can't stop in time. There'll be bowmen, priests, and wizards behind every door and tapestry, trust me. Stopping her, if she should go out of control and start behaving like another Manshoon is yer task."
"What?" Narm's face was white with anger, "You want me to slay the lady I love? Why of all folk in Faerun did you dare to ask me?"
"Ye married her," was the gruff reply as the Old Wolf stalked away and started back down the stairs.
"Yes, but-" Narm found himself arguing with empty air. I-Ie took a few quick steps after Mirt and demanded, "Even if I wanted to, how could I stop Shan? How?"
The old merchant swung around and fixed Narm with one gimlet eye, "I know not, lad, but ye'd best be learning, As I said, ye married her,"
"My thanks, Sarhthor, for a very good hunch as to where they'd be." Fzoul lifted his gaze from the new disc of water that he and his underpriests had conjured in Wizards' Watch Tower, He moved away, and Tessaril's features in tire scrying pool wavered and disappeared as the magic faded.
He signaled the priests to let it collapse, then snapped at Sarhthor, "Go-ready our warriors!"
Sarhthor only nodded, and Fzoul saw the weariness