Pool of Radiance - James M. Ward [40]
"Flour? I can guess what everything else is for, but why the flour?"
Shal reached into the final pocket and found a tiny scroll. She unfurled it and discovered a note written in Ranthor's fluid script: The Hour is there to reveal what is invisible. You should have known that, Apprentice.
"My teacher, you truly knew me too well. I wish you could meet my two new friends," she sighed.
Shal took a deep breath and paused for a last moment to prepare mentally for the test she must pass before making her way to Denlor's tower. She wondered if perhaps Tarl and Ren might help her when-if-they returned from Sokol Keep.
She found perfect stowing places for her spell components, rods, daggers, and magical cloth on the oddly designed belt. Shal held the belt up wistfully before buckling it, aware that it might have gone around her former self twice. Now, she needed to use the last buckle hole. When she'd pulled it snug, she marveled at the fact that it was virtually weightless once it was secured. Finally she practiced drawing the Staff of Power from the magical cloth. The six-foot-tall staff looked more than a little odd coming out of the small square of indigo cloth, but it came easily to her hand every time she asked for it. She almost laughed at the thought of employing the staff or any of her magical items on real enemies. "Yes, Ranthor, this is me, Shal-the same Shal who was afraid of a Burning Hands spell."
* * * * *
Ren was already in the common room, talking with Sot, when Shal came downstairs. He bit his lip when he saw the way she'd pulled her hair back. A large copper clip lifted her auburn hair off her face, accenting her high, flushed cheekbones, without even beginning to tame the wild red tresses that raged down her back. It was not a style Tempest had ever used, but it was stunning, and it made Ren see Shal for the first time as having a beauty unique to her and not tied up in his memories. "Good morning, Shal. You look wonderful!"
Shal blushed and smiled. "Good morning!" Shal stopped and stood stock still at the bottom of the stairs, staring at Ren. The self-described ranger-thief, whose body had been hidden yesterday in a mangy, baggy tunic and pants held up by a drawstring, was now dressed from head to foot in body-fitting black, oiled leather. His physique was impressive, not at all that of the dumpy barkeep Shal had conversed with the day before. Whereas yesterday Ren's blond hair had been matted to his head, today it shone a honey gold, cascading smoothly to his shoulders. His blue eyes glimmered, their deep color intensified by the brilliant blue of the gemstones set in the shoulder pads of his black armor. Shal noticed, too, that concealed cleverly on his person was a veritable armory. Strategically stowed for quick access were knives, daggers, two short swords, and several devices Shal couldn't attempt to name. "I-I hardly recognize you," she managed to say.
"Me neither," echoed Sot, eyeing the big man. "Ain't he a sight, though. I guess I'll have to be puttin' up a sign for some new help around here." His expression changed suddenly as he realized how his words might be interpreted. "Not because you won't be coming back from the island, of course. I just mean that I… I can see you've got more important things to do with yourself than waiting on tables."
Ren smiled and pulled out a stool for Shal from behind the bar.
Shal smiled, too, touched by Sot's obvious concern for Ren. Then she shivered suddenly. It was possible, perhaps even likely, that they would be killed. She hadn't realized that she had been avoiding the thought. She let out a slow breath and turned her mind to more immediate concerns. "Is Tarl here yet?" she asked as she started to sit down.
"Yeah. He just went out for a minute to check on your horse," Sot replied.
Shal slapped one hand up to her mouth. "Cerulean!