Spellfire - Ed Greenwood [151]
"Yes," Narm agreed, suddenly beside her. Shandril turned to him in pleased surprise. He grinned. "You seemed ready to sleep forever," he said, hugging her.
Shandril hugged him back. "You're mine, now!"
"Aye," Narm managed from within her arms.
"Not for much longer, if you break him like a clay cup," Torm said dryly. "They're more useful, you know, when they're whole… back and arms able to carry, and all…"
Shandril burst out laughing. "You're utterly ridiculous!"
"It is how I get through each day," Torm told her earnestly. It was much later when she realized he'd spoken the sober truth.
"Well," said Florin at last. "Here we part." He nodded at the weathered stone pillar just ahead.
"Yonder is the Standing Stone." The pillar rose, watchful and defiant, out of the brush, overlooking the fields back to Mistledale and south toward Battledale. Florin pointed. "Down that road lies Essembra. lake rooms at the Green Door. It once had a talking door, but we took a fancy to it, so that door is back at the tower. Somehow," he grinned, "we forgot to show it to you in all the excitement."
The white horse under Shandril snorted and tossed its head. "Easy, Shield," Florin said to her. "You've barely begun, yet."
There was a sudden lump in Shandril's throat at his words. She turned in her saddle to look back. Past the pack mules on their reins, past the watchful crossbowmen who rode behind with quarrels at the ready, back to where the knights rode with an ever-grumbling Elminster. She'd miss them all. She felt Narm’s hand clasp hers hard. She held back sudden tears.
"None of that," Rathan ordered her gruffly. "All this sobbing robs an occasion of its grandeur."
"Aye," Lanseril agreed. "You'll be too busy staying out of trouble to cry, soon. So get in the habit now, and let's have dry eyes. Remember that Mourngrym serves his best wine at Greengrass. We'll be looking for you, some year."
Narm nodded. Shandril was too busy wiping away tears that would not stop. Her shoulders shook in silence.
"Go now," Torm said gruffly, over his shoulder. "Or we'll be all day a-weeping and a-saying farewells."
Rathan nodded and urged his large bay forward to take a hand of both Narm and Shandril. "Tymora go with ye and watch over ye," he said fervently. "Think of us when ye are downcast or cold-such thoughts can warm and hearten."
Torm stared at his friend. "Such bardic soft and high glory," he said in amazement. "You've not been drinking, have you?"
"Get on with ye, snaketongue, to the nearest mud, and fall from thy saddle into it," Rathan said kindly,
"and mind ye get lots of muddy water in thy mouth."
"Peace, both of you" Jhessail chided them. "Narm and Shandril should be well away before highsun, if they are to make Essembra even two nights hence."
She turned to the young couple. "Mind you stay on the road. The Elven Court is not the safest place in Faerun these days."
"Let not fear or pity stay your hand, either," Florin said gravely. "If you are menaced on the road, let fly with spellfire before hands are laid upon you. A swinging sword often cant be stopped in time by spellfire or art."
"Oh, aye… one last thing," Elminster said. "I know something of illusions. This will make ye both look rather older, and a trifle different in appearance-save to each other's eyes. It will wear off in a day or so, or ye can end it at any time, each of ye affecting only thyself, by uttering the word gultho-nay, do not repeat it now, or ye will ruin the magic. Let me see…" He drew back his sleeves and sat upon his placid donkey and worked magic upon Narm and Shandril while the knights drew their mounts around in a respectful circle.
When it was done, the knights moved their mounts in closer for careful, critical looks. Narm and Shandril looked to each other and could not see the slightest difference in each other's appearance, as Elminster had said, but it was clear