Crown of Fire - Ed Greenwood [138]
He turned away. The High Tower beckoned, He needed a bath, a drink, and a warm body beside his in bed, before dawn. Far the first time, Manshoon wondered why he had ever begun to strive for more than such things… after all, what more could a man achieve? He shrugged and put such thoughts from his mind, He'd feel more himself in the morning.
Shandril and Narm lay curled up together in front of the crackling fire, a bearskin rug soft and warm around them, Narrn glanced up at the walls and ceiling and said thankfully, "Well, at least this room hasn't grown any new doors or corners tonight-"
Shandril chuckled softly, took her own look at the Hidden House around her, and said, "I don't know…
I think I've almost grown used to it," She reached out and turned Narm's chin until his eyes met hers, and then asked quietly, "Don't you think it would make a great home for us?The Zhents would never find us here,"
"That was my suggestion, too," a calm voice agreed,.and I still think it's a good one,"
Norm and Shandril turned their heads in surprise, A moment later, Shandril leapt up out of the furs to embrace their visitor.
Tessaril winked at Narm. "I come bearing gifts," "Though not baring them as much as certain folk,"
Mirt grunted, stepping into view behind her and eyeing Shandril's naked form, still pressed against the lord of Eveningstar. Shandril stuck her tongue out at him. Narm got up, holding the rug around him, and cleared his throat. "Er-welcome! Will you have wine?"
Mirt swung a huge battle into view from behind his back and grinned at him.
"Thank ye, lad. I will," he said, striding forward. He'd brought his own huge pewter tankard, carrying it in the same large, hairy hand that held the bottle, The Old Wolf lowered himself to the floor with a grunt, stretched out on the rug before the fire. wheezed, snatched the fur from Narm's startled grasp, and draped it over himself coyly.
"0h, Shan-dril," ire trilled in mimicry of a young suitor, "I'm over here! You can come back and lie down by the fire now."
Shandril looked at him, the firelight dancing on her smooth curves, and then walked deliberately to him, turned a corner of the furs over the Old Wolf's face, and sat firmly on him. "So, what gift?" she asked, ignoring the muffled protests from beneath her.
Mirt started to reach his hands up to tickle her, but Narm grabbed them and ended up on the floor wrestling with the Old Wolf. Though her seat started to jerk back and forth beneath her, Shandril sat serenely atop the shifting and curling bear rug. Mirt's muted voice roared, "Don't break my bottle!"
At that, Tessaril looked up from her belt pouch, She took in the scene, put her hands on her hips, and whooped with laughter. When her mirth had died, the Lord of Eveningstar extended a hand and drew Shandril to her feet. Then, lips quirked in a wry smile, she plucked the bearskin out of the struggling pile and put it around Shandril. "This gift is somewhat serious," Tessaril said, "so we'd best calm the Old Wolf down a bit."
Narm, who'd found himself in a headlock several moments earlier and was now unable to get free agreed as audibly as possible.
When some order had been restored, Tessaril drew forth a sparkling gem from her belt pouch, "This is your gift," she said, "but I advise you not to touch it, or even keep it on your person-you can probably be traced by it, and there may be worse things magic can work through it. I've had the stone tested by the strongest wizards of Cormyr, and we think it's safe for you to see it. Remember: don't touch it!"
Shandril looked at her quizzically,
"It's a speaking stone,"'ressaril said, releasing the gem. It floated in the air by itself, turning slightly, innocently winking back the light at them all, "It came to me in Eveningstar-borne by a merchant who'd come from Zhentil Keep,"
In the silence that followed her words, she stretched