Spellfire - Ed Greenwood [82]
Even with art that the rest of us lack, that is no light thing to have done."
"Have you enemies, indeed?" Lanseril added.
"Manshoon is no little one-I don't doubt that he yet lives." Shandril shuddered, and he patted her shoulder immediately. "But think no more of this.
Enjoy this night, and let tomorrow look to tomorrow's problems."
"Hmmph-easy enough to say" Narm told him.
"Not so easy to school one's mind not to think of something."
Lanseril nodded. "True, and I'm sorry I brought both your thoughts to this now. On the other hand-and think on this, mind; it is the most important training you can have for magecraft. You must be able to control your thoughts as an acrobat controls hands if you are to survI’ve spell against spell. If you ever meet Manshoon to speak to at leisure, you will find him as cold and controlled as Elminster seems whimsical-but is not, underneath. If one is not controlled, one does not live to reach such power, unless one's art is never challenged." And then he smiled. "But enough. I must watch over these fools, while you speak with the more sober upstairs."
"You?" Shandril asked in surprise.
Lanseril looked at her. "Of course. Are these"-he spread both hands to indicate the revelers all around-"not creatures under my care here in the dale, even as the chipmunks and the farmwI’ves' cats are?"
He left Shandril staring thoughtfully after him and strode over to where Torm stood laughing, each arm around a local beauty. Narm shook his head. "I don't know these people, really, yet," he said in her ear,
"but they are good people-as good as any I've ever known."
"I know," Shandril whispered back. "That's why I'm so afraid we'll bring death upon them by being here."
Narm looked at her somberly for a long time. At last he said in a low voice, "We have to, Shandril. We will die without their protection-you know that."
Shandril nodded. "Yes. So I am here." Her eyes sought out Mourngrym and saw him walking slowly with Storm and Florin toward the doors. "We should follow on-they are going up now, I think."
Narm nodded amid the dancing and the deafening talk and laughter. Shandril noticed that Thurbal moved quietly to follow them, staying distant, eyes moving constantly.
Torchlight filled the hallway outside with light, reflecting off flagons and goblets all around. Many richly clad men and women, drinks in hand, leaned against the walls laughing and talking. Shandril heard a snatch of one story that was. considered old even in The Rising Moon as she passed, on Narm's arm. They followed a regal lady in shimmering blue-green who wore a twinkling diadem up the stairs. When she turned at the top, they saw that it was Jhessail. She smiled.
"Such long faces," she said tenderly. "Do you like feasts so little?"
"No, it's not that," Shandril whispered back. "We fear to bring danger upon you all."
Jhessail shook her head as they walked on together.
"Is that all? Do you not know that we here stand in danger at all times? Zhentil Keep attacks us every summer, at the least. The Cult of the Dragon and the dark elves beneath us are constant menaces… Myth Drannor's devils are a worry to us, as is the lawlessness in Daggerdale. Adventurers may move on, or even run from such problems-but we cannot move the dale. Once we accepted Shadowdale, we became targets, and remain so. Why else live so high as we have been tonight, as those below"-she gestured to the noise- "still do?"
She traded glances with the young couple. "I could be slain tomorrow… should I therefore be miserable today? Why not make the best of it?" She took Narm’s free hand, and drew them both into the bower. "Come, let us talk of other things." Behind them, Thurbal came watchfully up the stairs.
Within, it was much quieter than below. Florin greeted them both with a firm armclasp, as one warrior to another. Storm smiled and kissed them both, saying, "It is seldom these days that I see two who have entered Myth Drannor leave again, alive."
Beyond her