Spellfire - Ed Greenwood [145]
"Forgive me. I abide here to guard-certain things. I did learn something from the Lord Florin of the men who drew swords and would have attacked you, if that's whom you mean."
Narm nodded. "Those men, yes."
The two men held each other's eyes for a moment, and then Lhaeo said, "There were over forty, we believe. Thirty-seven-perhaps more by now-lie dead. One talked before his life fled. They were all mercenaries hired, for ten pieces of gold each and meals, to grab you both-Shandril alone, if they could take but one of you.
"They were hired in Selgaunt only a few days back and flown up in a ship that sails the skies. Oh, yes, such things exist, though they be rare triumphs of art.
They were hired in a tavern by a large, balding, fat man with a wispy beard, who gave his name as Karsagh. They were directed to take you to a hill north of here to be picked up by the skyship.
"They would then be paid in full. Each had received only two pieces of gold. Many died carrying it, still unspent. Who this Karsagh is and why he wants you, we know not. Have you any favorite thoughts as to who he might be?"
Narm and Shandril both shook their heads. "Half the world seems to be looking for us, with swords and spells," Shandril said bitterly. "Have they all nothing better to do?"
"Evidently not," Lhaeo replied. "It is not all bad, that.
Look who found you, Shandril-this mageling called Narm, and the knights who brought you here."
"Aye " she said very quietly, "and it is here we must leave-friends and all-because of this accursed spellfire." Fire leaped and spat in tiny, crackling threads from one hand to another, as she stared down at her hands in anger.
"Not within these walls, if you please, good lady,"
Lhaeo said, eyeing it. "Things sleep herein that should not be so suddenly awakened." Shandril sighed, shame-faced, and let the fires subside.
"Sorry I am, Lhaeo," she said sadly. "I have no wish to burn down your house." The hearthfire let out a crack, then, that startled them all, as a tiny pocket of pitch in a branch blew apart. Narm stared from it to Shandril, a little fear on his face. At his look, Shandril nearly burst into tears.
"Nay, nay," said Lhaeo, turning to his cutting-board.
"I know you do not, nor do I fear it coming to pass.
You must not hate your gift, Shandril, for the gods gave it to you without such fury. And did not Tymora bless your union?" The scribe indicated the holy symbol that Shandril had carefully set upon a high table. As if in response to his words, it seemed to glow for a moment as they looked at it.
"Aye," Narm said, getting up. "So we are helpless in the hands of the gods?" He began to pace. Lhaeo looked up, sharp knife flashing as he cut up the tripes of a sheep.
"No," he answered, "for where then would be your luck, which is the very essence of holy Tymora?
What 'luck' can there be, if the gods control your every breath? And how dull for them, too! Would you take any interest at all in the world beneath your powers, if you were a god and if the creatures in it had no freedom to do anything you had not determined beforehand?
"No, you can be sure that gods do not fate men to act thus-and-so often, if at all, despite the many tales-even those by the great bards-that would have it otherwise."
"So we walk freely, and do as we will, and live or die by that," Shandril agreed. "So where should we walk? You know maps, Lhaeo-I have seen your mark upon the charts here and in the tower yonder.
Where upon the land of Faerun should we go?"
The scribe looked at her and spread his hands.
"Where your hearts lead, is the easy answer" he said,
"and the best. But you really ask me where you should run to now, this season, with half Faerun at your heels and with the Harpers your chosen allies. A good choice, know you by the road."
He paced alongside Narm for a few strides and then said, "I would go south, quick and quiet, and go by the Thunder Gap into Cormyr. There, keep to the smaller places and join with a caravan or with pilgrims of Tempus who seek the