Spellfire - Ed Greenwood [74]
Elminster spoke mildly. Only his eyes glinted.
"Ye've ruined the spell, and I've lost him. Wd better have a good reason for this, Torm, son of Dathguld."
Torm stopped in mid-laugh, startled. "You know who my father was?"
Elminster waved a hand in vague dismissal. "Of course, of course," he said peevishly. "Now, I asked thee thy reason for all this hooting and slapping me about and dancing up and down even now upon my very toes!"
"Oh." And for once in his life, Torm could think of little more to say, until his own feet were clear of the old mage's, and his hands free of Elminster's clothing.
Then his joy and his purpose both returned to him in a rush, and he said grandly, "Narm and Shandril are to be wed! What say you? Wed, I say!"
The mage looked bewildered for a moment, and then cross. "Is that all?" he demanded. "Oh, aye-any fool could see that. Ye spoiled my spell and lost me my hook on Manshoon for that?
Garrrgh!" He stamped his foot and turned away sharply in a swirl of dusty robes, leaving Torm to stare after him in astonishment. The thief recovered his customary grin when he saw that Elminster was heading straight for the laughing, still-embracing couple.
"Dolt," said Rathan affectionately, and pressed his wineskin into Torm's hands. "Come and sit, and have drink."
Torm shuddered. "I hate this swill!" he protested.
"Can't we just play pranks on each other, instead?"
"I have wondered, friend Torm," came Florin's grave voice behind them, "just what you do when really happy.. and now I know. Truly, wonders anew unfold before my eyes every passing day. But the message I bear is to your damp companion. Rathan, Narm and Shandril would speak with you and myself as soon as the gods will."
Rathan looked at him, momentarily surprised, and then nodded in understanding. "Aye. Of course." He thrust the skin into Term's hands, and said, "Mind this for me then, Torm? Thankee." Two steps away, he checked, whirled about, and said sternly, "And no pranks, mind!"
Torm shrugged and spread his hands in mock innocence. "Is it my open, honest face? My kind, forgiving manner? My gentle disposition?"
"Nay," said Elminster dryly from behind him. Torm jumped, startled. "Tis the length of thy tongue." The old sage put his hand under the thief s elbow as he passed and drew him along. "Come," he commanded, simply, "thy presence is required."
Narm was looking up at Rathan, his arm about Shandril and a kind of light about his face. Yet out of his eagerness, he spoke gently and hesitantly. "I-I have no gift to gI’ve you, good guide of Tymora," he said. "But I-we-could you wed us two, and soon?"
Rathan grinned back at him. "Of course I will. But a gift indeed ye have." He gestured at the broken litter of rock about them, where coins still gleamed here and there amid the dust. "One of those, perhaps," he said gruffly. "Mind it's a gold one, look ye." Narm thanked him and clasped his hand and plucked up a gold piece. Rathan held it high, and said, "Tymora looks down upon us and She finds this good, and shines the bright face of good fortune upon this union. By the sign of her favor, I declare ye two handfast, and to be wed before nine days and nights are out. All ye who are here, cry, 'Aye.'"
And as the chorus of "Ayes" rang out, the sun above them shone with sudden brightness, and a beam of golden light touched the coin in Rathan's fingers.
There was a flash, and it was gone. Narm, who had secretly doubted the stout cleric's sincerity until that moment, opened his mouth in awe. Rathan spread his empty hands in benediction, stepped forward to take one each of Narm's and Shandril's hands and clasped