Stormlight - Ed Greenwood [79]
"Yes," he breathed a moment later, voice hushed but trembling with emotion. "A Summerstar would do this--"
"All I know is," he snarled, interrupting himself with a harsher, deeper voice, "we as wear the Dragon spends all our spare time dyin' for the king, that's all!"
"What gods-accursed plan…? he asked the empty air as he capered down a hall.
He whirled around. "He made it," he told the passage with quiet fury, "as if we had never been."
"I-I-" he said in anguish, and went to his knees. His face melted and ran like butter in the sun. He howled with all the strength in his lungs, "Why can't I remember my name?"
That agonized shout echoed down the empty rooms for a long time. "Name, name, name" came faintly back to him, as he held his head in his hands and sobbed.
Or tried to. As he clasped his cheeks, his head melted away from between his cupped hands, and ran down onto the floor, glistening like blood. Though the room was dark, it reflected back a dancing radiance as it flowed across the floor: the flickering shadows of silver flames.
*****
"Take it," Insprin Turnstone told the young noble. "We can worry later if that's mold."
Thalance Summerstar nodded, turned awkwardly with the heap of long, curl-ended bread loaves the wizard had thrust into his hand, and started back on his way. Insprin waved four of the Purple Dragons to follow him and turned back to the dusty corners of the pantry.
Everything was a mystery. Why can’t people label their jars?
It’s not as if they’d wizardly secrets to keep, Insprin thought sourly, running his fingers through his graying hair. The question before him right now was-is this oil that’s gone off, or is Calishite olive oil supposed to smell and taste like this?
Urrgh. Forget it; the Calishites could keep it! He put the stopper back and reached for the next jug-only to freeze in midreach as a merry giggle sounded from just over his left shoulder. He turned slowly, fearing each breath would be his last.
Shayna Summerstar was leaning against the pantry wall, a dusty bottle in her hand. Chestnut hair spilled down over her ivory shoulders, and the old wizard almost licked his lips. Gods, but she was beautiful. "The kitchen wine cellar's around here, silly!" she said, friendly mirth in her eyes. "What're you trying to drink the fish-oil for?"
"F-Fish oil?" was all old Insprin could think to say as he felt for his wand.
Shayna's emerald eyes went down to it as he tore it forth. "Is anything wrong, sir wizard?" she asked. "I'm sorry if I startled you-I only wanted to offer you some wine! You looked so hot and bothered after Thalance left, and…"
She frowned. "How'd you manage to get him to fetch and carry, anyway? It's more than I've ever managed to get him to do!"
"Forgive me, Lady Summerstar," Insprin said gravely, holding the wand trained at her from about two paces distant, "but I must ask this: is your mind your own?"
She gave him a puzzled smile. "Is it what?"
They looked at each other in silence for a long moment, and then she said quietly, "You're serious. Well, of course it's my own. This isn't some strange ritual greeting war wizards use, is it?"
Then she seemed to notice the bottle of wine in her hand for the first time, and added, "Well-do you want some wine, or not?"
"No, thank you. Lady Shayna." Insprin said,taking a careful pace away from her. "Forgive me for being suspicious," he added, "but in my admittedly brief time here at the keep, I've never seen you be so-ah, forward. Outspoken, instead of shy, and open and easy with a war wizard you've scarcely met." He looked at her narrowly. "I'm not sure I'm speaking to the real…"
Her smile fled. "I see now," she said. "Lady Storm met with me, yes, and spoke to me of the shapeshifter loose in the keep. You think I might be some sort of monster." She shrugged. "I don't know how I can prove myself to be the real Shayna. If, as you say, we knew each other better,