Stormlight - Ed Greenwood [9]
"Tell Storm from Aldaneth, these things," he recited adopting a chant as the words tumbled out of his memory. "The noble Athlan Summerstar, of the Summerstars of Pirefall Vale, has been murdered his keep by mysterious means. Our agent at the keep Arkyn Hornblade, has also been found slain. Laspeera of the war wizards spoke to me, requesting that the Lady Silverhand come to the keep and investigate. Wizards of war in service to Cormyr be present but will not know of Laspeera'a request. They and the family expect Storm Silverhand to appear at Firefall soon, because she is named in Athlan's will-much to the displeasure of the elder Summerstars, I'm told"
Storm sighed. "Is there more?" Vrespon kept his eyes on the floor. "No, Lady told to escort you for as long and as far as you my presence.
A band squeezed his arm. "You've done well. Are you afoot, or have you a mount?"
"My horse waits at the Skull, Lady," said the Harper said.
Storm sighed again, and it seemed for a moment that a shadow of weariness and despair crossed her face as she looked at Sylune. When she spoke, however, she sounded almost petulant. "Well, I'll have to go… though I was hoping to see what Flamerule looks like at my farm, for once."
I'll watch over things here," Sylune told her, her head becoming spectral and sinking into her body. Vrespon turned in time to see it vanish, and stared, fascinated, as the slumped body raised its head, the whites of its eyes rolled up to reveal pupils-and winked at him.
The Harper jumped again. "Gods!" he swore. "Don't do that!"
Storm's deeply bubbling laughter rolled out from behind him, then, and Vrespon thought it was quite the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.
*****
The coach rumbled to a stop, Purple Dragons exchanged brief words, and then they were jolted into rumbling motion again. The clatter of the wheels roared back brief echoes as they passed through the clammy dimness of the gate tower, and into a cobbled courtyard beyond.
“Gods above!” one of the men in the back said. “Couldn’t we have flown? My tailbone!”
“Belt up,” one of his companions advised. “At least you have a seat with cushions.”
“Now I know why messengers ride,” a third muttered, “even into driving rain…”
"I could have levitated the coach," a fourth said haughtily, "and saved the horses, too-if I'd know things were going to be this bad. Unfortunately, I believed Runsigg when he said Cormyr had the best roads he'd ever walked on, and neglected to that spell-"
"You belt up, too, Hundarr," the third speaker said sourly. "Runsigg was right; you obviously don't walk about much."
"Huh! His belly tells you that, even before-" "Climb out and pipe down, the lot of you," an older voice growled. "You sound like a lot of wailing apprentices, not veteran wizards of war! Take a little pride in things, for the love of Laspeera!"
"Mother Laspeera provides all," one of the wizards replied mockingly as they clambered out of the dark,swaying coach. A line of Purple Dragons was standing stiffly at attention. Beyond them stood another, shorter line of guards in a different livery: an arc of three golden stars on a field of deep blue. The Summerstar armsmen, no doubt.
"Lady Summerstar and Sir Boldshield," Broglan Sarmyn was growling, "may I present to you the Sevensash investigative team, sent to you at the express command of Lady Laspeera of the wizards" war, on the instructions of the royal magician of the realm-upon consultations with His Majesty."
"Sevensash?" the cold-eyed, imperious old noble woman drawled. "I see only six men."I see only six men."She left a little silence, and turned to face Broglan raising her eyebrows to bid him fill it. Gods, but she was beautiful. Beautiful like ice. Used to getting her own way in everything, this one, and dressed like the queen herself at a high court function, for all sixty or more winters, and the minor-nay, unknown stature of her house.
"We are, in fact,