Stormlight - Ed Greenwood [17]
The next few days were probably going to be full of the unpleasant tensions and bloody actions that adventurers call fun, once such doings are safely in the past. Storm smiled. Ah, well-it was what she was here for.
Beyond immunities most folk could only dream of the Bard of Shadowdale had surprisingly few tricks left Depending on her wits and strong arms had always been her way, rather than spending long years in dusty towers learning spells for everything. Some folk thought the Seven Sisters no more than a pack of deceitful manipulators. Such a view was closer to the truth than the idea that they were nascent goddesses, transforming the Realms around them at will.
This little business of uncovering a murderer or two, for instance. Contrary to popular belief, the bold and brave Storm Silverhand couldn't call on Mystra directly to find out things; that had always been one of the Forbidden Things. Moreover, since the ascension of the young mortal Midnight to the Mantle of Mystra, the Lady of Mysteries really didn't know much more than her Chosen. She was still learning how to use the powers available to her… a process that would probably continue until long after her present Chosen were dust and fading memories. So this wayward bard was going to have to do her own detecting.
At a gentle stroll, Storm came over that last rise. A broad and pleasant smile filled her face. The keep rose dark and imposing ahead of her, more a border castle than a country manor. There were plenty of armed and watchful men on the walls and at the gates.
Storm walked on until the walls loomed up over her. She fully expected the keep to be one vast, patient trap, with the murderer waiting for her-as well as a reception committee of suspicious, resentful Cormyrean nobles.
The Purple Dragons at the portcullis of the gate tower could see her face clearly now. They were studying her closely, shifting their halberds to the ready and taking paces to one side to get clearer looks at the luggage floating serenely along behind her. She neared them. Two moved to either side of her, halberd points held respectfully down-but ready. Two more barred her way, and in tront of them stepped their swordcaptain.
"Halt, lady traveler. You are come to Firefall Keep, a house in some present turmoil. We are commanded in the king's name to keep its gate closed to the uninvited. Surrender to us your name, I pray."
Storm gave the officer a smile that made his eyes melt above the bristling mustache that hid the rest of his face. "I am Storm Silverhand, the Bard of Shadowdale."
The man gave her a quick bow and trotted away, into the keep, leaving her to stand in the hot sun. The two guards who'd stood like a wall behind him stepped forward in unison, forming an unbroken wall of armored flesh to block her advance.
Storm lounged back, sitting on empty air as if it were a comfortable throne. She looked around at the warriors sweating in their armor and scrutinized each one in frank admiration. The guards shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, unaccustomed to such boldness. They glanced sidelong at her beauty. This one seemed every inch the high court lady, outstripping even the Dowager Lady Pheirauze in elegance, and far outdazzling her in beauty.
Storm assumed a more comfortable position on, empty air and started to sing-a sad ballad. The song told of a soldier who rode into battle, knowing his love, from whom he'd been parted for a long year of fighting, had gone into the arms of another man. Her voice rose, rich and enchanting. Though the guards coughed and tossed their heads and pretended not to be caring or even really listening, they leaned forward to hear better, and broke off all of their muttered, side-of-the-mouth comments about her.
When she swung into the sequel, tears began to appear in certain eyes. She sang