Crown of Fire - Ed Greenwood [64]
"'Fell and mysterious power!' I like that," Gathlarue said softly in the night-gloom. "It has a certain ring…" "It does," Mairara agreed. "This Dread Master is an engaging half-wit all around. Such twisted cruelty… such lame deceits."
"Lame they may be," Gathlarue said, "but it is my hope he does gain the spellfire. Not only will he be straw in our hands, but it will be entertaining to the utmost, watching him destroying most of the Brotherhood as he seeks to master it."
"Fun watching, to be sure," came the reply, "so long as he holds the Zhentarim together long enough to destroy Elminster of Shadowdale first. If we feed this Ramath visions for long enough, our ambitious Dread Master will not dare to start the foolishness too early. I would see Elminster perish soon, and the Brotherhood is the only blade we can wield that seems strong enough to slay him." 'There are others," Gathlarue said softly. "If we could turn the one called the Simbul against him…"
"They love each other strongly now."
"Precisely," Gathlarue said. The slow smile that stole onto her face then made Mairara shiver despite herself. "Precisely… "
Chapter 9
DEATH BEHIND THEE, ITS CLAWS
UPON THY SHOULDER
Time is the thief that knows no locks.
Faeranduil of Neverwinter Sage
Sayings of the North
Year of Sunset Smoke
"Fare thee well, too, Baera," Mirt said roughly, and then his arms were tightly wrapped around her, squeezing as though by mere strength he could hold onto some part of her afterwards. The fat Harper, looking somehow sleek and striking this morning after her bath, gripped him back just as hard, and they stood locked like two wrestling bears for a long moment.
"Go, then," Baergasra said finally and pushed him away. Her voice was suddenly husky, and her eyes glimmered like the morning dew. "I fear I'll not see you again, Old Wolf." She waved him away sadly.
"So go-quickly, all of you; I hate tears. Let me be lonely again."
"Well," Delg said gruffly, "if you took a bath more often, mayhap you'd be lonely less often…"
He ducked under her wild and immediate grab and came running back to his companions, grinning from ear to ear.
"Next time, little man," Baergasra called after him, hands on hips, "I'll have a cake of soap ready for a certain dwarf. Begone, the lot of you!" She snorted, and then waved farewell.
Mirt, shaking his head at Delg, led them over a hill that hid the Wyvern from view behind them, and hid Baergasra with it.
The fat old merchant's shaggy head swung to and fro as they walked on. They all went slowly under the weight of much new-bought food as Mirt peered watchfully at every tree and rise around them. At length his gaze came to rest on Narm. striding along beside Shandril in his customary silence. "Are you well enough?" lie rumbled anxiously. "Any pain?"
Narm grinned. "I'm… well, it seems. Worry not! It's in the past and done."
"As you were nearly in the past and done yestereve," Delg added meaningfully.
Narm sighed, then raised an eyebrow carefully. "Are you always this cheerful," he asked the dwarf, "or is this sonic sort of special occasion?"
The dwarf shrugged. "I-something's amiss; I feel it in my bones. I’m a little… bladesharp, this morn."
He shook himself as a dog shakes off water when climbing out of a pond, and went on down the road.
Mirt rolled his eyes and shook his head but said nothing.
Narm and Shandril exchanged glances. "I have a bad feeling about that," Shandril said softly. “When Delg senses something amiss, he's usually all too right-something goes amiss before the clay is out. So please, Narm… be careful; watch always for danger."
Narin nodded wryly. "What else do I ever watch for since we first met?" He wrapped an arm about her to show he meant no complaint, and added, "I fear you're right, though. I'll keep wary eyes, as best I can."
"If you two can find the will to leave off cuddling for a breath or two," Delg said sourly from