Stormlight - Ed Greenwood [64]
*****
Highsun came and went, and the four guards grew restive.
“Gods, but I’m hungry,” one of them growled. His stomach added a wordless roar of agreement. His companions smiled ruefully.
“It won’t be empty bellies we’ll have to worry about,” one of them said, “if he comes back and find us gone from our posts. It’ll be our throats-after our backsides do a dance or two with the lash."
There were weary murmurs of agreement.
A quietly amused voice from behind them asked "What if I go with you to the kitchens? Will he lash my behind, too?"
The armsmen whirled around. Storm Silverhand was sitting up in bed, her wards dissolving around her in twinkling, drifting motes of light.
"Beg pardon, lady," one of the Purple Dragons began hastily, "but-"
She raised a hand. "None necessary. I've had sleep, and now food is my need. Stand clear now; I'm going to do something with magic that I don't want you to get caught in."
She watched them back warily away, closed her eyes, and felt for the rushing stream of silver fire. Yes! As she'd thought, it couldn't restore spells she'd cast… but if she diverted just a touch of it, for just a moment, it could duplicate a spell she was still carrying, if her mind could hold the extra load. She might be no great realms-shaker as a mage, but one thing all Chosen of Mystra had were minds that could carry heavy loads. They learned to, or soon went insane Hmmph; perhaps the less thought along that line, the better…
Done! "Thank you, Mystra," she murmured aloud watching silver fire that only she could see swirling around her. Now to do it again…
She'd already decided she'd need one for Ergluth Rowanmantle's room, another for the wizards study, and a third for Shayna Summerstar's bedchamber. The heir of House Summerstar was the most important being to protect in this place, after all-even if the boldshield was the most useful. She called in the fire to make herself a third watchful eye, leapt off the bed and snatched up her boots.
"Food!" she bellowed, "and then your commander, to release you from your orders while you still have strength to yawn."
Good-natured chuckles answered her. The guards drew in protectively around her as she hauled on tunic, sword belt, boots, and gloves once more, and set forth.
In the passage outside, they stumbled across signs of fresh carnage. Stumbled across, literally; the smoking, headless bodies of two sprawled Purple Dragons, limbs twisted in agony, lay underfoot as Storm stepped out of the bedchamber. No one chuckled after that.
* * * * *
"This keep has become a battlefield!" Corathar snarled, eyes large with fright. "We dare not step outside without an armed escort and all our spells ready, for fear this shapeshifter could be anywhere!"
Insprin Turnstone shrugged. "Our duty to the Crown is clear; we must do whatever we can to destroy this murderer. See to your spells, and let us all be glad there's but one monster, and not an invading army of them!"
"Are your veins full of ice?" Corathar snarled, voice rising in horror. "Don't you know what I'm saying? Death waits for us in the jakes, in our beds, at any step we take in the passages-everywhere!-and all you can do is-"
“Enough, Corathar,” Broglan Sarmyt said severely, coming out of his sleeping-chamber with an old, brassbound grimoire in his hand. “Fear is as deadly a weapon as a foe’s spell or blade. Resist it, as Insprin does, by keeping your mind on what must be done.” He sat down, reached for the decanter and a grass, and added, “Speaking or which-“
He broke off as there came a rap upon the door. All three mages caught up their wands, and Broglan called, "Yes?"
The door opened a cautious handspan, and a Purple Dragon they knew said. The Lady Storm Silverhand to see you, gentlesirs."
"Oh?" Broglan exchanged wary glances with the others, and gestured at them to stand on either side of the door, well back. "Show her in."
The door opened wide. He could