Hand of Fire - Ed Greenwood [103]
The way was tricky, through many vines and branches, and not even Sabran saw two dark figures rise up behind them like shadows.
Fingers fell like steel claws on two Zhent necks, heralded by a little, terrified chirp from Mhegras.
"Oh, no, you don't – either of you. Zhent dogs."
"Who -?" Sabran choked, as fingers closed inexorably around his throat, and went on closing.
"Our names are unimportant," said a soft, roughedged, and somehow familiar voice, from behind the gargling, squalling Mhegras.
"Aye," the man throttling Sabran agreed, and the frantically twisting priest saw the glint of teeth catching moonlight in a grin. "In fact, you can call us Arauntar an' Beldimarr"
The priest spent precious air. He had to know "Wh – why?"
"Let's just say we've been known to harp," Arauntar murmured and broke the wizard's neck.
16: Ruled by a Madman
Many a spoiled whim-driven tyrant is deemed mad, but he who listens to his dreams of "might have been" and "should have been me" is truly ruled by a madman. Let such whispers whirl away like a cap plucked off by the wind, and ride on happier.
There'll be time for regrets soon enough; when they're lowering you into your grave, if not earlier.
Storm Silverhand
Heed Your Heart But Follow Your Harp
Year of the Queen's Tears
Narm eyed the ropes Arauntar and Beldimarr had bound around the untidy stack of wagon wheels and shook his head. He knew how valuable they and the axles heaped beside them were to any caravan. He might be a novice wizard who knew even less about road-travel than about magic, but to him they still looked like hazards waiting impatiently to topple and crush a certain Narm and Shandril.
The alternative was for them both to sit out all day on the perch where arrows could readily find them as they bounced and rumbled along through the Blackrocks, while everyone in the caravan watched Shan struggling to hold back her spellfire. Voldovan had curtly installed them in a wagon so crammed with cargo and gear salvaged from wagons now gone – the roster of the vanished had grown frightening – that there was barely space inside for two to sit touching knee to knee, let alone lie down or try to get away from things they might set afire.
"Easy, Narm," Shandril murmured. "Stop fretting.
Whatever happens will happen, without a single word or lifted finger from us."
Narm sighed." 'Tis just that I can see these crashing down and bouncing all over the place, right out onto the perch to sweep you under our wheels – and the hooves of all the beasts pulling the wagons behind!"
"Try to see less," she suggested innocently, from where she sat cross-legged at his heels, "and finish your dawnfry. Voldovan doesn't sound like he'll wait for us or anybody, angry gods included."
Narm snorted. "Does he ever sound any different?
He should have been a warmaster somewhere or the tyrant of his own warrior kingdom!"
"Don't," Shandril said severely, "give him any ideas.
That man can hear flies crawling on horses at the far end of the caravan!"
Narm snorted again. "A pity he hasn't the tact of a typical biting fly. I wish he did. I wish – "
He sighed, turned until their knees touched, and put his hands on her shoulders. "I wish a lot of things. I wish I was a strong, calm war-leader like Florin and an archmage as mighty as Elminster, but with Jhessail's cheerful openness. I wish neither of us had ever heard of spellfire. I wish – "
"I wish, I wish," Shandril reproved him teasingly,
"does nothing but get one in trouble if the gods hear and waste the lives of those doing the wishing. Up, lord and master of my heart. Let's have our horses ready when the raging flame that's Voldovan comes snarling past."
As they rose, Narm said quietly into her ear,
"Speaking of raging flame…"
"I'm still weak," she murmured back, "and we'd probably both be dead now if Arauntar hadn't carried me