Hand of Fire - Ed Greenwood [5]
The two fat priestesses of Chauntea who stood with the Lord of Eveningstar exchanged glances, then looked back at Tessaril and nodded in unison.
"Take the ferry," one of them murmured, "and find The Stormy Tankard on Hethbridle Street. Ask there for Orthil Voldovan and join his caravan to Waterdeep. In Waterdeep, go to Altarea's Needles, a waterproofing and seamstress shop in Dock Ward, and ask for 'the old Lady who does the pearls.'"
Tessaril nodded. "Right, Thaerla."
"Uh, 'tis me, Narm, an – "
"Thaerla. Until your disguise is gone, 'Thaerla.' You don't answer to Narm, and if someone calls 'Narm' in the street, you don't answer or turn to look. Got that?"
"Y-yes, of course, Lady."
"Good. Now, there's one other thin – oh, Narm!"
"Yes?"
"Thaerla, you idiot wizard. You're a priestess from Eveningstar called Thaerla, and you've never heard the name 'Narm' before." Tessaril turned. "Olarla?"
"That would be me," Shandril said in amused tones.
"Is it you, Lady Lord of Eveningstar? Here to see the Sword Coast lands, after all these years? Right here on…" she turned to survey the tall, dark standing stones all around them on the grassy hilltop and dropped her mocking tone to ask curiously, "What is this place, anyway?"
"Tsarn Tombs," Tessaril told her, "or Sarn Tombs, to some. An old burial place that serves as a landmark and sometimes a lookout when caravans come through with outriders to spare for the scramble up here."
"What trouble would they be looking out for?"
"Ores, brigands, and the occasional disguised spellfire-hurler," Tessaril replied with a teasing grin.
"Now, stop worrying yourself and get going. I haven't got all day, you know."
"Yes, Vangerdahast said the king was on his way.
You'll be needing your sleep," Narm said sarcastically Tessaril gave him a look. "That was unworthy of a priestess of Chauntea – and overly daring for a young mage of no particular allegiance, too. Azoun is…
Azoun. I love Filfaeril, and she loves me, no less because of what the king and I share. 'Tis not as if I'm the only one."
"Is he as good as they say?" Narm asked teasingly.
"Thaerla, enough," Tessaril growled, and then gave him a sudden, girlish grin and whispered, "Yes. Oh, yes, and better!"
Shandril was still gaping in astonishment at the Lady Lord of Eveningstar when Tessaril turned smoothly, swept the maid of Highmoon into her arms, hugged her fiercely, and said, "Go on to happiness, Shan, and the peace you seek. My thoughts walk with you."
"Lady Tess," Narm asked a little hesitantly as Shandril and Tessaril rocked gently in each other's arms, "are these hills… dangerous?"
"Most of the time, no, but 'tis best to always beware brigands. You do have packs on your backs, and although folk of Chauntea rarely carry anything more interesting than a trowel and some seeds, brigands always want to look – just to be sure. We made you ugly enough that looking will suit them better than, ah, rummaging."
"Thanks," Narm said feelingly, as Tessaril embraced him. She was slim and curvaceous in her leathers and surprisingly strong. She gave him a fierce kiss and growled, "Yours is the harder road – mind you stick to it, right by your lady's side!"
The Lady Lord of Eveningstar whirled out of the young mage's arms and away to stand looking back at Narm and Shandril with the tip of her lifted sword glowing blue and the empty air before her growing a line of matching blue radiance.
"Fare you both well," she said, and before they could reply added briskly, "I go," and stepped forward. Her sword seemed to cut a gap in