Stormlight - Ed Greenwood [22]
"That sword," Erlandar snarled, "is indeed rumored to still lie hidden somewhere in this keep. Do the Harpers know anything of its whereabouts?"
Storm shook her head, trying hard not to yawn There were so many tales of lost enchanted blades that would save the world-or make the finder ruler of some handsome part of it-if they could only be found "I'm afraid not, Lord Summerstar.but I do thank you for Glothgams tale, simply but strongly told. She smiled. "Would you like to become a minstrel?
Erlandar scowled. "No," he said, obviously biting back other words that had sprung to his mind. He sat down again, shoved aside a platter of boar that had grown cold, and angrily signaled a servant to bring him fresh meat and more wine.
Silence followed Erlandar's last angry bark. Servants scurried, bringing out bowls of green mint-water and table fountains of sweet syrups.
The seneschal and the worried-looking Broglan Sarmyn simultaneously began speaking, trying to carry the conversation brightly onward. They spoke as one, deferred to each other uncomfortably, and tried again, launching into a discussion of the last great royal hunt. It had left from the vale to try to reach Mount Glendaborr. En route, many monsters had been slain. The true nature of the 'ghost dragons' that drifted half-seen around the nearby mountains was obviously a matter of hot local controversy, and an argument erupted that almost everyone except Storm and the senior Summerstars joined.
The Bard of Shadowdale settled into carefully watching other diners, looking for the slight gestures of a stealthily cast spell or the shifting of muscles that might herald the hurling of a blade. She was paying particular care to the coldly smiling mask that was the face of the Dowager Lady Pheirauze. The matriarch was obviously aware of her scrutiny, and was letting nothing slip-if anything ever did.
Storm did, however, notice when Thalance slowly and quietly drew his chair back, to sit sipping wine and listening… and a little later, silently set down his glass and slipped away.
The seneschal obviously thought the debate about the ghost dragons was far too familiar ground to still hold any interest. He turned to Storm to remark quietly, "I must leave briefly to attend my duties, Lady Silverhand-but before I go, I think it best to tell you just a little more about the Summerstars than you've yet been privy to. I'd like to avoid armed battle here in the keep between you and any of them, if at all possible."
"I, too," Storm murmured.
Renglar Baerest smiled tightly, and said, "Know then: the Lady Pheirauze has never remarried but persistent rumors have linked her to no less than three generations of the Illance noble line. I'd not speak disparagingly of that family-nor allude to any closeness between it and herself-if I were you."
He inclined his head toward another Summerstar. | "You have already measured Erlandar; be warned that he likes to crush women or bed them, and will not rest, now, until he's served you with one fate or the other. We see little of Thalance-he's faded away on us again now, I see-but I'm told the local loose ladies and young drinkers do."
He sighed, and added more quietly, his voice just barely above a whisper, "The Lady Zarova has tried to take her own life more than once, when her mother-in-law was particularly… difficult. Before wedding Pyramus, she was of the noble house of Battlestar, who dwell on the West Shore, not far outside Suzail. She'll be intensely uncomfortable if you ask her anything front of Pheirauze or Erlandar."
The seneschal glanced down the table at the two senior Summerstar nobles as he named them, noticed the eyes of the elder dowager lady were cold, hard as daggers, and fixed firmly on him.
With a smile, he turned back to Storm and said a trifle more loudly, "An unexpected pleasure to meet a fellow gardener; we must talk again. I've heard how lush you and your neighbors keep Shadowdale."
"And I'm interested in the herb-plantings I saw on my way in," Storm replied promptly. "Yes, let's trade secrets… and