Stormlight - Ed Greenwood [73]
He plucked up Zarovas unused dabble-linen and tossed it to Storm. "For the wine you're, uh, wearing," be said.
As Storm thanked him and wiped her face dry, the understeward glided in again to announce, "Lambs' kidneys in a sherry sauce, set about with chestnut and parsnip fritters."
It only took one taste of this most recent dish for the familiar oily fire of poison to spread out through Storm's chest. Grimly, she called on the silver fire to purge it, having no choice but to weaken the barrier for a moment.
Broglan saw her eyes flicker and close for a instant. The rise and fall of her breast halted, and sweat glistened suddenly at her temples, but he said nothing as she slumped back in her chair, opened her eyes again, and gave him a grim smile.
“Stuffed stags’ head with sage, apples, and sandal-wood,” Thurdal continued serenely, as more platters arrived.
“As the ladies have left us,” Thalance said carefully, “I find us poised on the threshold of a unique opportunity: the chance to speak openly and plainly for once, laying the usual courtesies and silent subjects aside. Lady Storm, I must confess that I am eager to hear more about this foe you speak of-and something of your own experiences, down the centuries.”
Storm smiled thinly. "As with most lives, the bits others find exciting are few and far between, set in long stretches of more mundane things. I break a lot of harp-strings."
"No, really," Thalance said, frank admiration showing in his eyes. "If you are centuries old, how is it that you look no more than twice my cousin's age? And is it true, what I heard about your being a marchioness of Cormyr?"
"The divine fire of Mystra keeps me young," Storm replied quietly, "and I should add that at the moment it is also protecting the realm-but endangering everyone at this table-by keeping Firefall Keep enclosed in a barrier to keep the foe within."
Erlandar looked around, as if he expected to see a flaming wall dancing in the air. "Barrier? Where, and for how long?"
"As long as we need it, I hope," Storm replied. "And yes, Thalance, I am the Marchioness Immerduak-so I fear I dare not go out on the battlements to watch a moonrise with you. Ladies of exalted station, I must remind you, have reputations to protect",
Her last sentence was delivered in a perfect mimicry of the cold, cutting tones of the elder Dowager Lady Summerstar; Thalance snorted with mirth, but Erlandar said heavily, "Pray don't mock Pheirauze, lady, for all her faults. She was.. the storm wind that shaped me."
Storm bowed her head. "My apologies, Lord Summerstar. I have an impish streak that often gets the better of me."
"Is it true you spent years in the South as a tavern-dancer and pleasure slave because of that streak?" Thalance asked eagerly.
The war wizards leaned forward in interest. Storm was even more amused by the lift of the understeward's eyebrow as he glided in between them to murmur, "Venison haunch in crust."
Thurdal kept his face otherwise carefully expressionless, and Storm gave him a broad smile as she replied, "Yes-and I enjoyed most of it, too. Did you know that many elven men can be transported to the heights of passion by stroking the tips of their ears?"
Erlandar shook his head in exasperation. Storm helped herself to the haunch-one of her favorites- generously. "No, I didn't, lady, but frankly I care not. Elven men aren't likely to be high on my list of conquests-or anyone else, for that matter, if this shapeshifter decides to slaughter me! What else can you tell us about… well, Shayna, and just what this foe can do?"
"Our foe can somehow drink knowledge and abilities-spells he can cast, for instance-from his victims. This power has something to do with the burnt-out state of the bodies we've found," Storm told them.
"As to Shayna-well, she refers to this shapeshifter as her 'Master', and can talk mind to mind with him presumably another