Spellfire - Ed Greenwood [176]
"Nay-only my pride, and my great art, I'm told,"
The Simbul said, skin gleaming silver in the moonlight.
"I’ll show you great art!" Elminster said gruffly, just before he fell out of the bed in a wild tangle of covers and discarded garments.
Downstairs, Lhaeo chuckled at the ensuing laughter, and began to warm another kettle. Either they'd forgotten him, or thought he'd grown quite deaf-or, at long last, his master had ceased to care for the proprieties. About time, too.
He began to sing softly, "Oh, For the Love of a Mage," because he was fairly confident that Storm was busy, far down the dale, and would not hear how badly he sang.
These are the sacrifices we make for love, he thought.
Upstairs, there was laughter again.
"It grows early, not late," Gorstag said, as he saw Shandril's head nodding into her soup. "You should to bed, forthwith- and then it is in my mind, Narm, that you both stay and sleep as long as your bodies need, before you set off on a journey that is long indeed, with no safe havens anywhere."
"We have not told you all yet, Gorstag," Narm said quietly. "We have joined the Harpers-for now, at least-and we go to Silverymoon, to the High Lady Alustriel, for refuge and training."
"To Silverymoon!" Gorstag gasped. "That's a fair journey, indeed, for two so young, without adventurers to aid you! Ah, if I was but twenty winters younger! Still, it'd be a perilous thing, even then. Mind you stay with caravans for protection.
Two alone can't survive the wilderness west of Cormyr for long, no matter how much art they command!"
"We'll have to," Shandril said in a grim, determined voice. "But we will try to take your advice and stay with the caravans. And if you don't mind, we will sleep over tomorrow. Foes or no foes, I can't stay awake much longer"
"Come," Lureene said, "to bed, lass. In your old place, in the attic. Gorstag and I'll sleep by the head of the stair, the other side of the curtain. I'm not leaving you alone while you're here."
"Aye," Shandril murmured, rising slowly by pushing upon the table. In the darkness of the passage that led out to the kitchen and the attic stair, cold eyes regarded them for a last instant and then turned with their owner and fled silently into the dark.
So the wench had returned, had she? Certain ears would give much, indeed, to hear speedily of this…
"Gorstag?" Lureene asked sleepily. "Happy, love?
Put that axe down at hand here, and come to bed now."
"Aye," Gorstag replied. "There's something I must find first, love." He ducked into the darkest corner of the attic, at the end beyond the stairs, and dragged aside a chest bigger than he was. He did something to one of the roof beams, down low behind it in the dust, and part of the beam came away in his hands. He took something from a small, heavy coffer, and then replaced everything as before.
Bearing whatever he had unpacked with him in his hand, he came back across the broad boards of the attic floor to the curtain and called softly, "Narm?
Shandril?"
"Aye, we are both awake. Come in," Narm said in reply, from where they lay together.
Gorstag came in quietly, and lowered something by its chain from his hand to Narm. "Does your very touch drain items of art, Shan, or only when you will it so?"
"Only when I call up spellfire, I think," Shandril told him. She gazed at the pendant Narm held. "What is it?"
"It is an amulet that hampers detection and location of you, by means of art and the mind, such as some foul creatures use. Keep it, and wear it when you sleep. Only try to take it off when you must use spellfire, or you'll drain its art. Wear it tonight, and you may win a day of uninterrupted rest tomorrow. I only wish I had one for each of you-but the dark necromancer whose neck I cut it from, long ago, only found the need to wear one."
Narm chuckled. "You should have gone looking for his brother;' "Someone else had slain him already" Gorstag replied with a grin. "It seems he liked to torment everyone around with summoned or conjured nasty creatures. Someone finally grew tired of it,