Spellfire - Ed Greenwood [171]
"Shandril, what has happened to you?" she asked quietly.
Shandril gave her a strange, almost haunted look.
"Oh," she said in a whisper. "You can see it so clearly then, can you?"
Lureene nodded. "Aye. But I know not what it is."
She raised a hand to Shandril's lips. "No… tell me not, if you would not. I do not need to know."
"But you should know," Shandril said simply. "It is not something easily believed, though. I hope Gorstag will be able to tell me more about why I have it."
Lureene grinned at her suddenly. "Then it can wait until after you've sat down and soaked your feet and eaten. I'll wake Korvan."
"No!" Shandril said sharply. Lureene turned to look a question at her. "No, please," Shandril pleaded.
"Wake him not. I cannot trust his cooking-no offense to you-for my own good reasons. I'll cook, if you will have me."
Lureene nodded, looking troubled. "Did Korvan… bother you?" she asked with a little frown.
"It is not that," Shandril said. "Please trust me, and wake him not. I'll tell you, but it is better not to rouse him."
"Then I'll not leave your side unless your man or Gorstag is at hand to protect you while you are here,"
Lureene said firmly. "You can tell me what you like after you've rested." She reached out her hand.
"Come here by the fire."
Shandril let herself be led and sat in a warm chair with a high back. Lureene poked the fire up into new flames and set fresh, dry wood on it, and went for a bowl. When she returned, Shandril's head had fallen onto her shoulders, and she was asleep.
Narm held the bridles of both horses, tense-ready to flee hurriedly if need be. He looked about him in the moonlit mist of the road, but he heard no creature moving in the rolling silence. Wait, Shandril had said.
Come after me only when you have stood so long that you grow cold-and if you wait that long, mind you come most careful, ready for War. Narm shifted nervously. Was he cold enough, yet? There was noise within.
Then the door that Shandril had entered was flung wide. A burly, craggy-faced man with gray-white hair and level gray eyes wet with tears strode out. He stretched out a strong arm to Narm and said, "Well met, and welcome to the inn! I am Gorstag. You are Shandril's Narm?"
Narm met his gaze squarely and swallowed. "Yes.-I was here almost two months back with the mage Marimmar. Shandril has told me of you, sir. I am at your service."
Gorstag chuckled. "Well, you can be of service," he said gruffly, "by leading one mount around to the stables with me." He set off with a horse and three mules in tow.
Narm followed him into a place where a sleepy boy on night watch unhooded a lantern for them and fetched water, brushes, and feed. In companionable silence, they set to work.
"You know the art?" Gorstag asked softly, as they both bent to the same bucket. Narm nodded.
"I was trained in Shadowdale as a conjurer. Shandril and I have come straight from there, where we were wed under Tymora." Narm felt suddenly shy under this old man's stern, clear eyes. He said no more, then, as he turned back to Warrior, who rumbled appreciatively. He turned from the horse's flank a few breaths later to find his gaze collected by Gorstag's. Unconsciously, Narm took a step back, but he said nothing. At last, Gorstag nodded and turned back to the first of the three mules.
"Tell me, if you will, how you met Shandril Shessair," he said softly. The mule pricked its ears at him, but it was clear that he expected no answer from it. Narm studied the innkeeper's broad shoulders for a moment.
"I saw her first here and… liked what I saw, though we did not speak. In the morning, I left with my master, and we made our way to Myth Drannor"
Gorstag's arms stopped their rhythmic brushings for a moment, and then resumed.