Spellfire

“Mourngrym told me yestereve,” Shandril replied, reaching for the soup, “that in a prosperous dale, when one can, there is no better rule for a happy life than, ‘Before all, eat well’.”

“No disagreement here,” Narm mumbled around his fork. “This is a fair place, indeed-at least, what we’ve seen thus far”

“Yes, it is,” Shandril replied briefly, suddenly ravenous.

They ate in companionable silence for a time. Unseen, a long, slim centipede crawled in a tiny gap in the windowframe, and cautiously descended to the floor. Once there, it shifted and blurred and was suddenly a rat. It darted sleekly across the rugs and under the bed-and froze as it saw the wide-eyed cat watching it steadily, very near. The two stared at each other for a moment, and then the rat shifted and became a crouched cat just slightly larger than Illistyl, and they sat and stared at each other again.

Above, Narm pushed away his plate with a sigh of contentment, and looked at Shandril lovingly for a long time. “Well, my lady,” he said slowly, “we still know only a little about each other. Will you trade life stories with me?”

Shandril regarded him with thoughtful eyes and nodded. “Yes, so long as you believe me when I say I know little enough about my own heritage.”

“Oh? Is that why you were so upset when Elminster asked last night?”

“Yes. I… I have never known who my parents were. As far back as memory goes, I have lived at The Rising Moon. Gorstag, the i

“How came you to Myth Dra

“I know not-some magic or other. I read a word written on a bone, and was trans-tel-what do you call it?”

“Teleported,” Narm said eagerly. “Like Elminster did, to fetch the healing potions for Lanseril.”

Shandril nodded. “I was teleported to a dark place with another teleport-door in it, and a gargoyle that chased me. I was carried to Myth Dra

“In truth, I know little,” Shandril said with an embarrassed little laugh. “What I do know, I heard from tales told in the taproom nights, by far travelers and the old veterans of the dale. You heard one, at least, I think. Splendid tales they were, too…”

“Could Gorstag be your father?” (Tense interest, beneath the bed.)

Shandril stared at Narm, her face frozen upon the edge of a laugh, and then said, “No, I think not, although I am not as sure now as I was before you said that. We are not at all alike in face or speech, and he always seemed too old… but he could be, you know.” She sat a moment in silence. “I think I’d like Gorstag to be my father,” she said slowly. Time passed again. “But I don’t think he is.”

“Why did you never see Deepingdale? Did Gorstag keep you locked up?”

“No! It was just… there was always work. The cook would forbid me to do some things, and the older girls and chamber-ladies would forbid me others. Gorstag said that outside the i

“What did you do in the i

“Oh, most anything. The chopping and washing and cleaning in the kitchen mostly, and fetching water, and cleaning the tables and floors in the taproom, and emptying the chamber pots, and lighting the hall-candles and the lamps in the rooms, and cleaning rooms, and helping wash the bedding. There are many little tasks in the ru

“And they worked you like a slave all those years?” Narm burst out angrily. “For what? You took no coin with you when you joined the company! Were you not even paid?”

Shandril looked at him in shock. “I-no, not a single coin,” she said, “but-” Narm got up, furious, and paced about the room. “You were treated little better than a slave!” “No, I was fed, and given clothes, and-” “So is a jester; so is a mule, if you count its livery! Before the gods, you were done ill!”

Shandril stared at him as he raged, and suddenly snapped, “Enough! You were not there and ca

He opened his mouth to speak, not knowing what to say, but Shandril said coldly and clearly, as she turned about to face him, “I was happy at The Rising Moon, and I do not think Gorstag did me any ill. Nor should you judge him. But I would not quarrel with you.”

Narm looked at her. “I would not quarrel with you, my lady. Ever.” He looked away, then, and Shandril saw how white he was, and that his hands were trembling. She felt suddenly ashamed and abruptly turned aside as she felt her face grow hot. She got up hastily and walked toward the door. (Beneath the bed, two silent cats, who had watched all this, looked at each other and almost smiled.)

When she turned, Narm was watching her, and the look in his eyes made the last of Shandrils anger melt away into regret. She hurried back to him. “Oh, Narm,” she said despairingly, and his arms tightened about her.

“I am sorry, lady,” he whispered, head against hers. “I did not mean to upset you, or darken Gorstag”s good name. I-I lost my temper…”

“No, forgive me,” Shandril replied. “I should have let you yell, and not rebuked you, and there would be no quarrel.”

“Nay, the fault is mine. Forgiv-”

“Disgusting,” Torm’s cheerful voice said loudly behind them. “All this sobbing and forgiving each other all over the chamber-and not even wed yet!”

The knight gave them no time to reply as he strode forward to pluck the food tray up from the table, saying, “Terrible stuff, isn’t it? And such small portions, too! So, have you heard each other’s life stories yet? Picked out any juicy bits to pass on to old, bored Torm? Pledged undying love? Changed your minds? Decided what you want to do next? tea?”

“Ah, fair morning, Torm” Narm replied cautiously, rightly ignoring all the questions. “Are you well?”

“Never better! And you two?”

“Don’t leer, it makes you look ill,” said Shandril crisply. “I hear you prevented my capture, or worse, last night. My thanks.”

“Ah, it was nothing,” Torm said, waving tray, bowls, and all perilously in the air with one hand. “I-”

“Nothing, was it?” Jhessail challenged him severely from the doorway. “Three healing spells you took, and much moaning and complaining all the while, and it was nothing. Next time we’d do best to save the magic, and you’d appreciate your folly the more.” She took him briskly by the arm. “Now come away… how’d you like someone to burst into your bedroom, when you are alone with your love?”

“Well, that would depend very much on who they were,” Torm began, but Jhessail was propelling him firmly out the door.