Spellfire - Ed Greenwood [115]
"Lady," Shandril said in a low voice. "Wh-"
"Call me Jhess!" Jhessail responded fiercely. "This 'lady' business keeps me thinking there's some noble matron behind me, disapproving of my every move!"
"Jhess, then; forgive me. Why does Rathan drink so much? He never seems to get drunk, at least that I have seen, but…"
"But he drinks a goodly lot?" Jhessail agreed.
"Yes… you should know. It was what our companion Doust Sulwood gave up his lordship of this dale for1.' "Rathan's drinking?"
"No, no-I meant, they both faced the same problem. A good priest of Tymora must continually take risks-reckless ones, in the eyes of most others.
Worshipping Tymora truly and trusting in the Lady's luck causes a problem if you are also sensitive to what your recklessness does to others, or are by nature cautious or considerate. The life of trusting to hick does not sit well with the life of contemplating the consequences of one's actions, or wishing for the security and comfort of routine and prudence. You see that?"
"Yes." Shandril nodded. "But how-?"
"Ah. Well, Doust as lord of this dale had to make decisions that affected the lives of the dalefolk.
Concern for their safety was his duty, if you will. He could not do well by them and serve the Lady of Luck well. In the end, his calling proved the stronger, and he gave up the dale rather than rule poorly. I wish that more who fought such a battle within themselves between office and belief recognized their dilemma, and reached the right choice."
Jhessail looked fondly across the room at Merith.
"As my lord, too, has done-but that is another story." She looked at Rathan. "As for that buffoon, his jesting is but an act. He is very sensitive and romantic, easily moved to tears. He hides it, and overcomes the barbs of his closest friend, Torm, with his 'drunken sot' act.
"He drinks because he is sensitive and prudent-and must, he knows, favor luck more and live in danger.
To do so, he steels himself with drink. Because he does not want to become falling-down drunk, he eats like a starving wolf. This makes him fat, as you can plainly see, and in turn makes him able to take in more drink without staggering about and slurring his jests. Do not think him a drunkard, Shandril; he is not. Nor is he a lecher or a fraud, but a true servant of Tymora. I am proud to ride with him."
"You have given me different eyes to see him by, lady," Shandril said slowly, looking at Rathan, who was roaring with laughter at a jest of Storm's.
"Jhess, remember?" Jhessail said softly. "If you will listen to some advice, know that the most valuable thing I have learned from Elminster, in all these years, is to look at all things, and folk, however strange they seem, from all sides.
"Neglect not to act as you must, but try to think as you act. You will see things as others do, as well as the way you are used to thinking. If you walk with the Harpers," she added, nodding across the noisy room toward Storm, "they will tell you the same thing, dressed up in much grander words."
The room was filling up around them, as the good folk of Shadowdale and the staff and guardsmen of the tower all crowded in to the large, high-ceilinged hall. There was much laughter and chatter. Narm joined Shandril in the tumult, kissing her.
"They seem to party with a right good will here, I'll say that," Shandril greeted him.
"Aye," Narm agreed. "I swear some of the guards had wine-headaches this morning."
"No doubt," Jhessail said to them. "They drink, and love, and laugh, and eat, as if they may be dead tomorrow, for death hangs over them."
"What?" asked Narm, taken aback.
"Zhentil Keep threatens us daily-their armies could sweep down upon us any morn. Hillsfar has a new ruler, his intentions unknown, and devils walk in Myth Drannor to one side and in Daggerdale on the other. Now you are here, and they know powerful foes may attack at any time, seeking to slay or capture you. Some know a duty to defend you; some merely fear they will be caught in the way when great might is unleashed. They fear you, too, Shandril, no little