Spellfire - Ed Greenwood [166]
Lhaera looked at them in wonderment. "With Imraea? But she's scarce six-"
Torm nodded. "Old enough that her feet are firmly on the ground." He was interrupted then by the precipitous arrival of a small, dark-haired whirlwind who fetched up against his legs, laughing. As he reached down to embrace her, she danced back out of his reach and announced solemnly, "Well met, Torm and Rathan, Knights of Myth Drannor. I am pleased to see you."
Both knights bowed, and Rathan answered solemnly,
"We are pleased to see thee, lady. We have come to discharge our duty to ye. Are ye in good health and of high spirits?"
"Aye, of course. But look how beautiful my mother is since you healed her! She grows taller, I think!"
Torm and Rathan regarded the astonished and smiling Lhaera carefully. "Aye, I think you are right.
She does grow taller," Torm said solemnly. "Be sure to send word to us when she grows too tall for the roof, for you will need some help rebuilding then."
Imraea nodded. "I will do that." She eyed Torm.
"You are making me wait, Sir Knight. Is my patience not well held? Am I not solemn enough?" Then she fairly danced. "Did you bring it?"
"It is not an 'it.' It is a 'he,' as you are a she," said Torm severely, drawing open his cloak and letting something soft and furry into her arms. Its fur was silver and black, and it had great, dark, glistening eyes. It let out a small and inquiring meow. Imraea held it in wonder as it stretched its nose out to hers.
"Has it-he-a name?"
Rathan regarded her severely. "Aye, it has a truename, which it keeps hidden, and a kitten name.
But you must give it a proper name, the name you can call it. Take care you choose wisely. The kitten will have to live with your choice."
"Aye," Imraea agreed seriously. "Tell me, please, its kitten name that I may call it so while I think on such an important choice." Lhaera smiled broadly.
"Its name," said Torm with dignity, "is Snuggleguts." Torm dropped nine pieces of gold into her hand.
"What is this?" Imraea asked in wonder.
"Its life," Rathan said. "The kitten will need milk, and meat, and fish, as it grows, and it wilt need much care, and to be kept warm. You, or your parents, must buy those things. You must take the mice and rats it will kill, thank your pet without any disgust or sharp words, and bury them. It is your duty. Know you, Imraea, that the gods gather back to themselves cats and dogs and horses even as they do you and me.
There is no telling when Snuggleguts may die. So treat it well and enjoy its company, but let your kitten roam free and do as it will. Each time you see your pet may be the last."
"I will. I thank you both. You are kind, you two knights."
"We but do the right thing," Torm replied softly.
"Aye, that you do," Lhaera said to them. "And there's few enough, these days, who take the trouble to do that."
16: Sunset at The Rising Moon
By night dark dreams bring me much pain -but always comes, after, bright morning again.
Mintiper Moonsilver, bard Nine Stars
Around A Silver Moon
Year of the Highmanritle
"The Wearers of the Purple are met," Naergoth Bladelord said. "For the glory of the dead dragons!"
"For their dominion," came the ritual response from sullen throats. Naergoth looked around the chamber.
Malark had not shown his face again. Naergoth was beginning to worry that something ill-and probably final-had befallen him. By the looks others were giving his empty seat, he was not the only one thinking along such lines. Long faces aplenty looked back at him.
"Well enough," Dargoth said. "What say you, Zannastar? You stand for our mages in the absence of Malark, and the doubt grows in my mind that we shall ever see him alive here again."
"It is not my place to speak as one of you," said Zannastar, a balding, bearded man of middle years.
"I do not wear the purple."
His hard face turned to look down the table. "But I do think that the more one listens, the more one learns.