Stormlight - Ed Greenwood [56]
"It is almost all I have left," she replied calmly, watching those cat eyes roam up and down her still-beautiful body. "Almost."
He lifted an eyebrow that no cat would have possessed. "You do not fear me?"
She lifted her smooth shoulders in a shrug and said, "A little. But I fear a slow, lingering death more." She spread her hands in welcome, gestured up and down at herself, and added, "Come. I've been expecting you-and if I can't run from you, perhaps I can live on in you. My hips and shoulders pain me almost constantly, now, and my hearing on the left side is almost gone. I want to feel youth and vigor once more. So come to me now. Slay me-but let it be slow, so that I can teach you of what I wield before I'm gone. You won't be sorry you did."
"Can I trust you?" the cat-headed man asked, rough wonder in his voice.
"The bellpull is there," Pheirauze told him, her eyes very large and dark. "Loop it up out of my reach if you prefer. Behind yon hanging you'll find a bar to keep the door closed. There are two concealed ways into this room, and the doors to both are locked." With one finger, she lifted a swirl-shaped golden pendant from her breast. "Their keys-the only keys-are here."
Warily, the cat-headed man took a step forward, his eyes darting about the room. Slowly he grew a tentacle and reached for the bellpull, and two more to seek out the door bar; Pheirauze watched in fascination, swallowing once.
"Does any magic await me?" he asked softly, gesturing with one circle of a tentacle at the bed. The bellpull rose up to the ornate canopy above her bed, bar settled into its sockets.
"I keep no magic in my bed," the dowager lady told him calmly, "but if you fear traps, choose a spot on the floor yourself"
He shook his head slowly. "That will not be necessary. Lady, you will be remembered with honor."
"It is all I ask," she whispered as he rose over her and grew gentle fingers to encircle her wrists. "It is more than many can expect."
His grip was like immovable iron on her wrists and ankles. Pheirauze shuddered then, at the first, tentative touch of fire-but the firebringer found that he could be gentle and slay slowly. What was even more surprising was that he truly wanted to.
*****
Gods, but she'd been willful! Briefly he'd had to fight down her wants and schemes to keep hold of his own. He forgave her that, and almost any villainy she might have planned, for what she'd yielded unto him. Pheirauze Summerstar had always been able to speak to the minds of humans near her, and even dominate some of them!
He laughed exultantly and looked down almost fondly at the shrunken husk that lay beside him, limbs spread but somehow still proud. Not wanting to crush any part of it, he bent with infinite gentleness to kiss the fire-scorched lips before rolling up off the bed.
In silence for a time, he looked down at all that was left of Pheirauze Summerstar. He half smiled, shook his head, and swept a row of guttering candles onto the bed.
Two strides took him to more candles. A funeral pyre was only fitting for a lady of such splendid spirit; matron of her clan and wielder of such power. Power now his!
He laughed aloud, threw aside the door bar, and ran out into the passage, becoming a hound as he went down the hall. Behind him, the bed burst with a loud roar into sudden, towering flames. The Purple Dragons would have to scramble to save this part of the keep. By then, of course, the man who was more than a man would be long gone.
*****
Storm toweled the last of the bathwater from her limbs and strode toward the bed, where she'd laid out fresh clothes. On the way, she glanced at the tall oval mirror on the wall, and saw that her cheek looked as smooth as it felt; the deep burn was gone. Well, thank Mystra for the small things as well as those that shake all Faerun…
Linen briefs and halter, green hose and stays, bar traveling boots-who knows where her hunt for a shapeshifter might lead her?
White shirt, leather tunic,