Stormlight - Ed Greenwood [25]
"Oh, of course," Hundarr Wolfwinter agreed derisively. "You've lived since before there were sunrises, and seen it all… of course. Still-"
He broke off, staring, even before Broglan Sarmyn could voice a rebuke. They all followed his gaze to the source of his amazement: a huge silver platter bristling with the slim spires of wine and liqueur bottles. The platter and its burden were both splendid, but hardly unusual at a feast such as this. What was unusual was that it was drifting slowly across the empty space between the tables, approaching the senior Summerstars.
"Pah!" Erlandar half-rose, his hand going to the dagger at his belt. "Wizards' tricks!"
"But no," Broglan protested. "None of us has-"
"Ah," Storm said firmly, "but one of us has."
She raised her eyes to look steadily at one of the war wizards and said softly, "Clever, Corathar Abaddarh. A deft little spell that very few would notice you casting,… but is such a working prudent, given the situation here? The talk of hauntings, and the bereavement of the Summerstars? The danger we may all face?"
The platter crashed to the floor in a thunderous shattering of glass. I'm not a child, lady, to be told off so," Corathar snarled, eyes flaming, "and I'll thank you to-
His face paled, and he fell silent. The platter trembled, rose slowly, and proceeded on its interrupted journey. The shattered bottles rattled nervously atop the silver.
"Enough!" Storm said sharply. "Consider us all impressed by your little cantrip, and end your magic at once!"
"I'm… I'm not, now…" Corathar stammered, swallowed, and then managed to add, "lady, this is not my doing!"
Storm looked along the row of war wizards, and then at the Summerstars. Frowning perplexity showed among the former, and growing, suspicious fear filled the eves of the latter. Even Pheirauze looked uneasy. "Stop it" Storm said firmly, "whoever is working this!"
The platter continued on its unhurried, drifting way. Storm sighed and vaulted the table in a swirl of silver hair, reaching out both hands to grasp the platter with its cargo of toppled and shattered glass.
She murmured the words that should have spun away all magic as her hands closed on the chased and fluted silver handles. Instead of the peaceful silence that should have followed, the world exploded in roaring flames.
White-hot and hungry they howled. Fire raced up from the floor to scorch the lofty beams of the feast hall. It rushed out of empty air and entirely hid the lady bard from view.
Wizards gasped curses and lady servants screamed as the flames roared on. In the rafters, a banner burned through and fluttered down in a lazy ribbon of sparks. Still the flames roared on, until Shayna was sobbing and even Erlandar was on his feet staring up at the ceiling of the hall and cursing in fear-fear that the whole roof would come crashing down on them.
Then, as suddenly as they had come, the flames were gone. They left behind cracking tiles, groaning stones, and the reek of burnt wood and human hair. The diners all stared at the thing of tottering bones and ashes that should have held a melted platter-and gasped in unison.
Droplets of silver and glass lay like glistering rain on the blackened and shattered tiles, yes. But standing at their heart was a faintly smiling, weary-eyed woman. Her silver hair was curling and writhing lazily around her, a forest of roused snakes. The ends of those silver tresses were blackened and shriveled bur Storm Silverhand was otherwise unharmed. They could see that clearly enough. Most of her clothing had gone with the vanished flames. Her gown was now no more than ashes and blackened tatters, clinging to limbs that seemed… unharmed!
The others stared at her. Storm returned their look, arms still spread to grasp a platter that no longer existed. She said mildly, "My roast boar was quite well cooked already, thank you."
Her eyes darted from diner