Stormlight - Ed Greenwood [72]
"Bedded her at last, did you?" Erlandar muttered under his breath, in tones just loud enough to carry clearly to them all.
Margort and Nalanna smirked in unison, but Zarova said quietly, "No more such words, thank you, Erlandar. You should not judge others by your own vices."
Erlandar flushed and seemed about to say something, but shrugged and reached for his goblet instead.
“Is the Lady Shayna unwell?” Storm asked gently, ignoring Erlandar’s remark.
"She has chosen to dine in her chambers," Zarova said firmly, "and, as heir of this house, is entitled to her eccentricities." Her tone made it clear that further discussion of the subject would be unwelcome.
"Roast rothe in white wine and 'shroom sauce," the understeward murmured as platters were set down in front of the diners.
"So," Erlandar growled. "Have you found out who murdered Pheirauze yet?"
Steely silence fell as Broglan and Storm looked at each other. He spread his hand, indicating she should reply.
"We have a shapeshifter in our midst," the Bard of Shadowdale announced calmly, "of unknown origin. It, or he, has slain Lord Athlan, the seneschal, some of the war wizards, and many of the armsmen."
"You forgot the steward," Erlandar boomed.
Storm shook her head. "No, Lord Summerstar," she said, "someone else killed Ilgreth Drimmer."
"Oh? Well-dye know who?"
“The Lady Shayna,” Storm said quietly.
“What?” The startled roar came from both Thalance and Erlandar, who half rose from their seats. All of the Summerstars stared at Storm with barely checked shock and rage-and Storm saw that Broglan was gazing at her in open-jawed dumbfoundment.
“Brawn in cinnamon sour sauce, with onion tarts,” the understeward murmured imperturbably, gliding between them all at the head of another cluster of servers.
“Stay your swords, gentlesirs.” Storm said with just the slightest snap of command in her voice. “Her mind was not her own when she did the deed, but in the thrall of the foe. I tell you this so that you may all be warned in case he takes control of her mind again while you stand near."
"I don't believe it," the Dowager Lady Zarova said, her voice trembling.
"Yes, you do," Storm said gravely, "or you'd not be so desperate to deny it. I apologize unreservedly for all the outrages I have offered you, both now and previously, but you of the blood of Summerstar must awaken and realize that you now dwell in a battlefield-or the next time we gather for a feast, there'll be a few more vacant seats."
In shocked silence, they stared at her.
Storm added, "Go nowhere without guards, none of you-even you, Thalance: invite them along, man!-and carry weapons if you know how to use them. Linger nowhere alone, even in garderobes. Bathe together, or not at all-'tis better to stink unwashed than to own the stink of death."
Thalance shook his head, a half-disbelieving, half-admiring smile on his lips. "You're serious, aren't you?"
Storm leaned forward. "Lad," she replied, "I am very serious. The Lady of Mysteries gave me powers that have kept me alive for centuries, in far more perilous lands than this. I fought this shapechanger and only just prevailed. If I fall, I charge you in Azoun's name: get to horse, and ride as hard as ever you can to the king-or, better, to the Lord Vangerdahast, and tell him all. Don't rest on the way, or you'll never awaken-and be ready to fight beast after beast on your ride."
"I'll not listen to more of this," the Lady Zarova said grimly, rising from her seat. "Thurdal, serve me the rest of my dishes in my quarters!"
"And ours!" the aunts said in outraged chorus, flinging the contents of their glasses at Storm. She nodded to them, ignoring the wine coursing down the side of her face, and said, The pleasure was mine, charming ladies."
"Trollop!" Nalanna snarled as the three ladies whirled away from the table to storm out.
Erlandar shook his head and reached across the table to take up the decanter from beside Zarova's glass.
"Uncle Erlandar?" Storm asked with a smile. "You, too?"
"No," he said gruffly, fixing