Spellfire - Ed Greenwood [95]
Narm nodded. "Aye, willingly." One cat rolled its eyes again, and became a rat, and flashed over to the wall before Illistyl could even stretch. It dwindled and twisted and was a centipede again, and gained the sill while Narm was still heaving the chest toward the door, with many a grunt, and Shandril was hanging her robe upon a hook on one post of the canopy. An interested Illistyl saw a raven suddenly appear outside the window and fly soundlessly away.
She nodded and curled up for a nap. Eavesdropping was one thing, but there were limits…
Narm finished with the chest, straightened up slowly, and caught sight of Shandril in the mirror.
Two bounds and he was on the bed. Few delights come, it is said, to he who tarries.
11: Spells to Dust
High magic is strange and savage and splendid for its own sake, whether one's spells change the Realms about or no. A craefter who by dint of luck, work, skill, and the mercy of the Great Lady Mystra comes to some strength in art is like a thirsty drunk in a wine cellar-he or she can never leave it alone. And who can blame such a one? It is not gI’ven to all to feel the kiss of such power.
Alustriel, High Lady of Silverymoon
A Harper's Song
Year of the Dying Stars
Jhessail slipped softly into the bedchamber. Illistyl straightened up from where she had dragged the chest aside, and they shared a smile. "Worth hearing?" Jhessail asked softly, and Illistyl nodded.
"I’ll tell you later. " the young theurgist replied quietly as together they went to the bed. Narm and Shandril lay asleep in each other's arms among the twisted covers. The two spellcasters gently laid one of the bed furs over the sleeping couple before Jhessail leaned close to Shandril and said, "It is time.
Rise, hurler of spellfire. Elminster awaits."
Shandril shivered in her sleep and clutched Narm more tightly. "Oh, Narm," she murmured. "How it burns…"
The two spellcasters exchanged glances, and Jhessail carefully laid a hand on Shandril's shoulder.
There came a swift tingling into her fingertips.
"She holds yet more power;' Jhessail whispered,
"and this cannot be of the balhiir, not after so long a time and so much hurled forth. It's as Elminster suspected." She bent again to Shandril's ear.
"Awaken, Shandril! We await you." The eyelashes below her flickered.
"Narm," Shandril said in a sleepy murmur, gaining strength. "Narm, we are called… ah… ohh.
Where-?" Shandril raised her head and looked around. In the soft, leaping glow of the lamp Illistyl had just lit she saw the two ladies of art standing over her. She tensed involuntarily to hurl forth the spellfire within, then relaxed. "My pardon, Lady Jhessail, Lady Illistyl. I did not know you."
She shook her head as if to clear it and turned to Narm. "Up, love; arise."
"Eh? Oh. Gods, is it time already?"
"It is," Jhessail said gently. "Elminster awaits you."
"Oh, gods belch!" Narm said, rubbing his eyes and flinging back the fur. Hastily he pulled it up again.
"Ah-my clothes?"
Shandril burst into weak, helpless laughter, and handed him his robe.
Illistyl smiled. "Jhessail and I will wait in the hall.
Come when you are ready."
In the hallway, the theurgist said to Jhessail, "Tell no one yet, Jhess, but The Simbul came in by the window and listened, even as I did."
Eyebrows lifted, and then lowered again. "What did you both hear, aside from lovemaking?" Jhessail asked, lips twisted in amusement.
"The life-tale of Narm Tamaraith, full and open and unadorned. His mother, at least, may well have been a Harper?" Illistyl replied, referring to the mysterious group of bards and warriors that served the cause of good in the Realms.
Jhessail nodded. "He thinks so?" Illistyl shook her head.
"The thought has not crossed his mind," she said. "It was the description."
Jhessail nodded again as the door opened, and the two hastily dressed guests of the dale stepped out.
Narm looked at the two ladies curiously. "I mean no disrespect," he said slowly, "but is