Spellfire - Ed Greenwood [165]
Elminster shook his head very slowly. "Nay. Not I."
"Who, then?"
"Again, I am not sure. I believe it was the warrior Gorstag, of Highmoon."
The Simbul nodded. "So I have come to suspect these last few days. I thank you for trusting me so, to answer me openly. I promise you, old mage, that I shall not betray your trust. The girl Shandril is safe from my power-unless the passing years change her as they did Lansharra and she becomes too dangerous to leave unopposed."
"That is my present burden," Elminster said heavily.
"Such a fall must not happen again."
"What, if I may ask you without offense, will you do differently this time?" The Simbul was watching him closely, her eyes very dark.
"Leave her be," Elminster replied. "She will choose her own path in the end. Her choice may be the clearer and happier for her-if not easier in the making-if I do not sit upon her every act and speak upon her every thought." Elminster met The Simbul's gaze thoughtfully. "The Harpers can protect her nearly as well as I could, without locking her in my tower and thus keeping her under my eye… and I could not do that without ruining her choice, even had I the cruel heart to do it."
The Simbul nodded. "That is the right road for you to ride, I think. It is good, indeed, that I needn't force you to take that route."
Elminster smiled, a little sadly. "A good thing, indeed," he said very softly, "for such an attempt would likely have destroyed ye."
The Simbul regarded him soberly. "I know." She nodded slowly and then almost whispered, "I have never doubted or belittled your power, Elminster.
You take the quiet way and play the befuddled old fool, even as I take beast-shape and hide often. But I have seen what your art has wrought. If ever I should have to stand against it, I expect to fall."
"I did not disturb ye this night to threaten ye."
"I know," The Simbul said, rising slowly. "Will you allow me to teleport to you now?"
"Of course, lady," Elminster said. "But why?"
The Simbul's eyes were very dark as she let fall her tattered gown. Beneath it, she wore a garment of thin, black silk strands that reached from her throat to cuffs at her wrists and a broad cummerbund belt. The outfit covered little. Set with many small, twinkling gems that winked out when she did, her garment shone the more brilliantly when The Simbul reappeared beside Elminster. Unsmiling, she stood almost timidly amid the dark room's clutter of papers and books. Elminster gaped at her and then deliberately composed himself and smiled.
"But, lady, I have seen some live hundred winters,"
Elminster said gently. "Am I not too old for this?"
She stopped his lips with slim white fingers. "All those years will give us something to talk about, you and I" she said, "instead of art." She was slim and very light as she sat in his lap, and her skin as she leaned forward to embrace him was smooth and soft.
"I would tell you something," she whispered, as Elminster's arms went gently around her. "My name, my truename, is-"
"Hush, lady," Elminster said, eyes moist. "Keep it safe. We shall trade them, soon. But not now."
The tears came. "Ah, old mage," The Simbul said, sobbing into his chest, "I have been so lonely…"
Lhaeo, who had come up the dark stairs with tea, the pot wrapped in a thick scarf to keep it warm, stopped outside the door and heard them. He set the tray down carefully on a table nearby and went softly downstairs again for a second cup. What is the weight of secrets? he wondered to himself. How many may a man carry? How many more, a woman, or an elf?
It was dark outside, but in the little cottage near the woods candles flickered and the hearthfire blazed merrily. A woman straightened up from the cauldron as they came in. She was no longer young, and the clothes she wore were simple and much patched. She gasped. "My lords! Welcome! But I have nothing ready to feed you. My man's not to be back from the hunt until morning."
"Nay, Lhaera," Rathan said kindly, embracing her.
"We cannot stay, but must hasten