Spellfire - Ed Greenwood [37]
"I don’t know who you are," Symgharyl Maruel said with lightly mocking malice to her helpless bundle between tugs which bumped Shandril silently over the jagged, heaved stones. "You remind me of someone… you may well be the one those stone-heads of Oversember let slip away. Are you, hmmm? The girl who was with the Company of the Bright Spear, but whose name did not appear on their charter? You'll tell me, girl. Yes, you'll tell. Their lost one or not, the Cult will value you highly for your blood, dear, if you are a virgin." Again the tinkling, mocking laughter. "But you shall be my present to Rauglothgor in any case. So pretty…"
Shandril could not even weep.
Narm took his leave of the two knights on the forest trail where he and Marimmar had met the elf and his lady. Narm was surprised to see who stood in the very same place they had, though: the two ladies who had been in the inn in Deepingdale. The ones who had faced down the angry adventurers when the thief was lulled. Narm nodded to the women during Torm's introductions to Sharantyr and Storm, not thinking they would remember him.
To his surprise, they both smiled at him with careful eyes. The younger of the two clasped his arm and said, "Yes, we've met. At The Rising Moon in Deepingdale, although you were under the heavy eye of-was it your master of the art? A strict man."
Narm nodded. Yes, Marimmar had been that.
The silver-haired bard also remembered the young man now that Sharantyr had placed him. Torm rapidly explained Mourngrym's decision to let Narm into the city. They shouldered their bags and harp and took their leave with the horses and mules.
As they mounted, Storm leaned down and said to Narm, "Until next we meet. I think our paths will cross again soon, good sir. Fare well in Myth Drannor." With that, she and Sharantyr rode away.
"Will you go into the city after all?" Torm asked, after they had watched the ladies disappear amid the trees.
"Yes," Narm said, grinning weakly.
"May Tymora smile upon thee, then," Rathan grunted. "With being such a fool and all, ye'll need the full favor of the Lady's luck to see even this day out. Don't forget how to run for thy very life, now.
The devils are the ones with wings."
"Most of them," Torm agreed with a smile. "Though they can be hard to see if blood is pouring into your eyes."
"Aye, that is very true," Rathan agreed gravely.
Narm grinned and waved good-bye to them, shaking his head. A merry life the other knights must lead, indeed, in the company of these two jacks! He set off down the path quickly before his fear could slow him or turn him back.
The ruined city of Myth Drannor rose out of the trees before him. Alone now, Narm did what he wanted to do, free of rules and restraints. He was going to see devils. He was going to look at them again and somehow survI’ve. By Mystra, he was going to do something on his own, now that Marimmar was gone.
Cautiously, Narm went on. Off to his right he could see a leaning stone tower, its needle-shaped spire still grand. Much heaved, tilted pavement choked with shrubs and clinging vines lay ahead. He saw steps leading down in a broad sweep from the street into unknown depths. A slim woman in purple robes was dragging someone thin and long-haired along the ground by a rope. The hapless captI’ve was completely entangled in its coils. Narm heard tinkling, mocking laughter as they descended from view down the dark stair.
By the time he reached the stair, nothing was visible below. Narm hardly stopped to think before he followed. The art! Strong magic, undoubtedly. Just what Marimmar had wanted to find in this place!
The-underground way led on fairly directly to a place where Narm could at first see only a fitful glow.
He walked quietly and cautiously in the dimness toward it, until he could see that the cellars had opened into a natural cavern. Within it, the lady in purple and her captI