Stormlight - Ed Greenwood [71]
What was it about this Haunted Tower?
Twelve
TRUST AND OLD WINE
When a weary Storm Silvehand returned to her chambers, the Purple Dragons at the door saluted her as a fellow warrior, clapping their hands to their chests. She smiled, matched their salute, and strode in through the open door-to find a war wizard waiting for her. He smiled tentatively, looking every bit as tired as she.
She raised an eyebrow. "Broglan Sarmyn? Smiling at me, an ancient marchioness?"
He sighed. "Aye, Harper tricks and all. We dare not go further, lady, as uneasy allies. No sooner had you left us than the beast attacked in the shape of a Sharn-"
Storm raised both eyebrows at once, truly surprised "-and all I could think of; as we fired all our wands to beat the thing off, was that if you'd been there to hurl a slaying-spell or to hold it where we could empty all our magic missiles into it, it would be dead now, and our troubles over."
Their eyes met, and Broglan continued slowly, "Lord Vangerdahast did tell me to obey you as I would him but, lady, I have measured him, many times, and it has taken me longer to measure you." He extended his hand, looking even more worried than usual. "Will you-command me?"
Storm took that hand. "Only if I have to, Broglan. I'd prefer to stand shoulder to shoulder with you, not distantly bark orders through a speaking-stone, like a certain Royal Magician of Cormyr."
Broglan smiled ruefully. "Yes, I'm one of Vangerdahast's tame dogs, and-as we all do-I sometimes chafe at glib orders from afar."
Storm smiled. " 'Tis the human thing to do," she replied, taking off her gloves. "What is your counsel now?"
Broglan drew himself up. "Lady, the first dishes have already been served, but if you'll have me do so, I would escort you to evenfeast."
"I'd like nothing more!" Storm said heartily, feeling suddenly how hungry she was. "Let's go!"
“But, lady,” the war wizard said, blinking. “No gown? No gems?”
Storm waved a hand dismissively. “I feel better dressed like this,” she told him, “but if you’ll be more comfortable…”
She hauled her tunic off over her head. Broglan beat a hasty, embarrassed retreat-not fast enough to avoid receiving the wadded-up garment in his face. He caught it reflexively, in time to see Storm dabble perfume behind her ears, down the open front of her shirt, and up her sleeves to the elbows. Winking at him, she snatched out a pendant from a coffer and hung it down her breast.
She strode toward him. He extend his arm to her and swallowed as her hair shaped itself, a smooth forest of silver snakes moving in unison, into a spectacular upswept high-court plume.
"Useful power, that," he commented as they swept out past the guards and went down to feast.
They shared no further conversation, falling quickly into a somber mood. The passages were empty; their footfalls echoed in a waiting, wary stillness. The keep felt like a cowering prisoner waiting for the executioner.
At the doors of the great hall, a dozen guards stood, a tired-looking Ergluth Rowanmantle in their midst. He gave them a grim smile and waved the doors open. The hall looked very much as it had on Storm's first night-save that most of the seats now stood empty. Shayna Summerstar's seat was vacant. At the point of the table. Uncle Erlandar and the Dowager Lady Zarova Summerstar faced each other. Erlandar was flanked by Thallance and then the wizards Insprin and Corathar. Beside Zarova was Shayna's empty seat, and beyond that the two aunts.
Broglan conducted Storm to the seat beside Nalanna, who favored the new arrival with her usual cold and haughty glance. Smiling faintly, the war wizard took the seat across from Storm. Both of then found themselves looking down the empty tables. From them, two wings of empty places stretched out into gloom. They exchanged rueful glances.
Broglan turned his head in the other direction and said smoothly, "I apologize, Dowager Lady, for the lateness of our arrival. We had business