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Spellfire - Ed Greenwood [123]

By Root 1249 0
hose.

"Welcome," Lhaeo said then, in a soft, clear voice.

"If you're hungry, there's stew warm over the fire now. Highsunfeast will be herbed hare cooked in red wine… that Sembian red Mourngrym gave us. I deem it good for little else. I fear I have no dawnfry ready."

Elminster chuckled. "Ye would have been wasted on a throne, Lhaeo. I’ve eaten no better fare since Myth Drannor fell than what ye cook. But I forget my manners, such as they are… Lhaeo, these be Narm Tamaraith, a conjurer who flourishes these past days under the tutelage of Jhessail and Illistyl; and his betrothed, Shandril Shessair, who can wield the spellfire." Lhaeo's eyes opened wide at that.

"After all these years?" he asked. "You were right to bring them here. Many will rise against such a one."

"Many already have," the sage replied dryly. "Narm, Shandril-I make known to thee Lhaeo, my scribe and cartographer. Outside these walls he is counted a lisping man-lover from Baldur's Gate. He is not, but that is his tale to tell. Come up, now, and I'll show ye thy bed-I hope ye don't mind, there is only one-and some old clothes to keep you warm in this place. We two don't feel the cold, but I know others find it chill."

"Keep him to one speech," Lhaeo added as they started up the stairs, which creaked alarmingly, "and I'll have tea ready when you come down again."

They went up through a thick stone floor into a circular, open room. Shandril cast an eye over the maps and scrolls littering a large table in the center of the chamber. She looked away quickly as the runes began to crawl upon the parchment. Over the table, a globe hung in midair, a pale ball of radiance that shone like a small, soft moon. By its light, they could see a narrow stair curving up into the darkness overhead. Books and scrolls littered the tops of chests and were piled high upon a tall black wardrobe.

The old, dark wooden bed, with a curved rail at head and foot, looked very solid and cozy. Shandril suddenly felt very tired after the battles and conferences and their long talk in the night outside.

She swayed on her feet.

Narm and Elminster both put out a hand to her at once. Shandril waved them away with a sigh. "Thank you both. I really have been a burden since I left Deepingdale."

"Second thoughts?" the sage asked quietly, no censure in his tone. Shandril shook her head.

"No. No, not when I can think clearly. I just could not have lived through it alone." Then she noticed something, and turned to the sage. "There is only one bed. Where will you sleep?"

"In the kitchen. Lhaeo and I are rarely asleep at the same time; someone has to watch the stew."

Narm laughed. "The greatest archmage in all Faerun," he said, "or so I would deem you, and you spend nights watching a pot of stew!"

"Is there a higher calling, really?" Elminster replied.

"Oh, speaking of pots, the chamber pot's by the foot of the bed. Aye, I know it looks odd-it is an upturned wyvern skull, sealed with a paste. I stole it from a Tharchioness's bedchamber in Thay long ago, in my wilder days.

"Come, have thy tea, and then ye can sleep. Ye will be safe here, if anywhere in the Realms. Do as ye always do together, so long as it does not involve a lot of screaming and yelling. A little noise will not bother us. If ye pry about, be warned that the art here can kill in an instant if ye put an eye or tongue wrong… on your heads be the consequences."

"Elminster," Narm said as the old mage started down the stairs again, "our thanks for this. You've gone to much trouble over us."

"If I did not, what sort of greatest archmage in all Faerun would I be then?" was the gruff reply they got over the old mage's shoulder. "I'm stepping out for a pipe. Mind ye come in haste-Gond alone can guess what Lhaeo'll put in thy tea if you're not there to stop him. He thinks every cup should be a new experience." Below, they heard the door bang.

"By the gods, I'm tired," Narm said.

"Aye, too tired," Shandril agreed. "I hope we can sleep." Her hands, as she held them out to clasp his, were shaking. They went down to tea wearily.

When

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