Spellfire

“My apologies, you two,” she said, over Torm’s protests. “He’s just come from his bride-to-be, Naera, and is in somewhat high spirits.”

Torm looked at her, as if dazed. “Bride-to-be?” he gasped. “B-b-but…” His voice faded as he was marched out the door.

“Well met, Torm,” Narm said dryly as the door closed again. He and Shandril looked at each other and burst into laughter. (Beneath the bed, both cats looked pained at Shandril’s giggles.) When they subsided, the two embraced again, and sat in comfortable silence for a time.

“What do you think this test will be, love?” Shandril asked. Narm shook his head.

“I know not. Your spellfire, surely, will be put to the test, but how I ca

Shandril nodded, “Yes. I want to know, but I have lived all these winters so far without knowing. I would rather know you better, Narm… 1 do not even know your last name let alone your parents.”

“Oh, have I not told- Tamaraith, it is, my lady. Sorry. I didn’t realize I had told you so little as that.”

Shandril laughed. “We haven’t exactly had overmuch time for talk, have we? You may have told me, and I’ve forgotten in all this tumult. All has been so confusing… if this is adventure, it’s a wonder any soul survives it long!”

(Two cats exchanged amused glances. The one that was Illistyl pointed at the other with a paw, then spread its paws questioningly, and put its head to one side suspiciously. The other nodded and traced a sigil in the dust with one paw, saw that Illistyl had seen and recognized it-her feline head nodded, satisfied-and hurriedly brushed it out of existence again. The two cats settled down at their ease together.)

“Well said” Narm agreed. “I have not the love of constant whirl and danger that Torm does, that’s one thing certain! Will we ever be able to relax and do just as we please, do you think?”

“I’d like to try,” Shandril said softly, her eyes very steady upon his, Narm nodded and took her in his arms again, face set and serious. “I would like that, too, yes,” was all he said. (Under the bed, the strange cat shook its head, rolled its eyes, and yawned soundlessly.)

When their lips parted again, after a time, Shandril pushed Narm away a little, and said, “So tell me the tale of your life. Who is this man I am to marry? A would-be spell-caster, yes, but why? And why do you love me?” (Four eyes rolled, beneath the bed.)

Narm looked at his lady, opened his mouth, and shut it again. “Ah.. I-gods, I know not why I love you! I can tell you things about you that I love, and how I feel, but as to why-the gods will it, perhaps. Will you accept that answer? Poor it may be, but it is honest, and no base flattery, 1 swear? He paced, agitated. “I promise you this,” he said finally, turning by the window, “that I will love you, and as I learn the whys, I will tell them to you. How’s that?”

“My lord,” Shandril answered him, eyes shining, “I am honored that you are so honest with me. Pray that we both remain so with each other, always. I approve, yes-now get on with your tale! I would know!” (Under the bed, two cats burst into soundless laughter.) Narm chuckled and nodded.

“Yes, I tarry. Know, then: I was born some twenty-two winters ago, in the far city of Silverymoon in the North. I don’t recall it; I was still not a winter old when my parents Journeyed to Triboar, and thence to Waterdeep, and-”

“You have seen great Waterdeep?” asked Shandril, awed. “Is it as they say, all bustle, and gold, and beautiful things from all Faerun in the streets?”

Narm shrugged. “It may well be so, but I ca

He stared into nothingness for a moment, and Shandril laid her hand upon his. His face was sad, but it was wistful, more than upset. “They are both dead, of course,” he added calmly. “Slain in a sorcerous duel in Baldur’s Gate when 1 was eleven-burned up in flames when the ferryboat they were on was struck by a fireball flung at the mage Algarzel Halfcloak by a Calishite archmage, Klue

“Klue

“To defeat an archmage I needed magic-or at least, needed to know its ways. I knew not, then, that one ca

“Imagine it, love-a ragged, barely lettered boy, alone and with no wealth to buy a mage’s time or trouble, in Baldur’s Gate where there are a dozen homeless boys on every street in the docks, pestering every mage that passes! I only escaped being turned into a toad-or just burned to ashes- by Mystra’s will… nothing else can explain it.

“One day, two years after I started, a mage said yes. A pompous, sour mage-Marimmar, my master His pride weakened him. He never worked to strengthen his art where he lacked spells or technique, in those places where he couldn’t-or wouldn’t-see that he was weak. But I learned much from him, perhaps more than from a smooth and masterful worker of the art. He had a temper, yes, and little patience-and he was perhaps the laziest man I have ever met, so he needed an apprentice to do all the drudge-work. You know the drudge-work;’ Narm added with a sudden smile. Shandril matched it ruefully.

“Marimmar disliked conflict, so he never fought mages to gain their spells-and he was obviously shining-proud that no mage ever challenged him. Those of real power saw him as a posturing know-nothing, with no spells worth seizing. Those of lesser power feared always that he must have something up his sleeve, he seemed so confident and fearless. His confidence killed him, in the end. He nearly took me with him.

“He saw the elves’ abandonment of the Elven Court and Myth Dra

“The devils slew Marimmar, and almost killed me, too. Lanseril and Illistyl of the knights rescued me-they are so kind, Shandril, I can scarce believe it, after all the swaggering heroes I’ve seen prancing down city streets-and here I am. I went back to Myth Dra