Stormlight - Ed Greenwood [16]
"Sorry," Storm told them gravely, and arched her eyebrows impishly. Tray, continue."
She marched past them, flopping boots and snorting gelding and all, as the man hissed a startled oath and shot a look at the pool where they'd just-appeared, out of thin air!
As he stared, a man in worn leathers appeared. Another hooded horse splashed where, a moment before, there'd been nothing but roiling waters.
The man with the horse looked at him, and be stared back, his astonished lady-love still nestled against his shoulder. "What's going on?"
"Ask her" the newcomer protested, sounding almost hurt He pointed ahead and down the hill, where the lady with the silver hair had gone. "Ask her!"
"Phernald," the maid quavered, suddenly finding her voice, "shouldn't we-?
"No! Whatever it is, no!"
With those last, shouted words, the man was on his feet and sprinting for the safety of the trees. He dragged his lady with him, heedless of the fate of her finest gown as he hauled her through brambles. Poetry, wine, and all lay forgotten behind them.
"Oh, Phernald!" she wailed as they disappeared.
Vrespon shook his head, hauled the smock off his mare's eyes, mounted, and urged her into a trot to catch up with the Bard of Shadowdale.
When he reached Storm, he said almost accusingly, "You scared the wine right out of those two, you know!"
She was thoughtfully draping around herself the woefully inadequate strip of material she'd stuffed into her boot earlier. Perhaps, Vrespon thought, all senior Harpers were crazy.
This one certainly seemed to be. She turned and smiled at him. "I did apologize," she said, "and they'd finished their meal but not gotten beyond whisperings, if you know what I mean… There's no harm done. They've just enjoyed an invigorating race through the forest, that's all!"
The Harper stared at her for a moment longer, and then burst into shouts of astonished laughter. Both horses snorted and shifted, and Storm told him severely, "Stop that-you're frightening the horses."
"And I suppose you're through frightening me?" Vrespon demanded in mock exasperation.
Storm clapped him on the shoulder. "That's the spirit," she said. "Now you know how to cross the Thunder Peaks from east to west, from the Farlight Stones to Muskrin's Well, here. It doesn't work in the other direction. Don't forget, now."
Vrespon shook his head. "Muskrin's Well… I must be a little north of… let's see…"
Storm took him by one ear, swung him close, and kissed him. "It's been a joy," she said lightly, "but I must go. Take Lazytail, here." She steered the gelding's bridle into his hands and walked away.
Vrespon stared at her. "You're going to Firefall Keep like that?"
Storm frowned. "Of course not. I'm a lady." She snapped her fingers, muttered something-and the tattered strip of cloth draped about her suntanned skin became a high-bosomed, filigreed glossy court gown, pleated and slit with flaring sleeves and lace panels. She struck a pose, spreading silken-gloved hands to show off her finery. "Like it?"
Vrespon's jaw dropped. After a moment of making inarticulate sounds, he closed it firmly again, and nodded. In truth, he'd never seen so expensive, elegant, and, well, beautiful a gown. The wild woman who'd ridden with him was suddenly every curving inch a Cormyrean lady of stunning beauty and monstrous wealth.
He was still nodding when Storm gave him a cheery wave and vanished again.
*****
Even the Chosen of Mystra have limitations. Of the Seven Sisters, Storm outstripped only Dove in her mastery of magic. There would be no more teleporting until she got some time to study-and, oh, yes: something to study with. She glanced around to be sure that she was unobserved, murmured an incantation, and moved one hand in a sweeping, circular gesture of beckoning.
Obediently a bulging strong chest burst into being, in midair, floating in front of her. A moment later, the strain of overloading popped its lid open, revealing