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"Florin?" Jhessail hailed him tentatively, as she drew near. "Are you badly
hurt?"
"As usual." Florin's voice was rueful, and he lowered it so that only she
could hear his next words, so faintly that she
Eo GREENWOOD
almost missed them. "I fear I am growing too old for this constant battle,
Jhess. It's not the thrill it used to be."
"Oh, no, you don't," Jhessail said briskly, putting a slim arm about his great
shoulders. "Not now. We need you." Awkwardly she drew him down until he was
sitting against the wall. "You'll feel much better once you've been healed."
Merith joined them. Florin nodded gratefully to them both, and then quietly
fainted.
Jhessail let his head rest heavily on her shoulder and said to her husband,
"My lord, please run to the strongbox for one of our potions. He's hurt worse
than I thought."
Shandril, watching this, turned her face to the wall and leaned her forehead
upon her arm. "I I we must leave you. You are always hurt for our sake, one
attack upon another. You are my friends! I must not do this to you, day after
day, mages attacking and all. . ." She burst into tears.
"Must we have all this weeping?" Rathan complained. "It's as bad as all the
fighting! Nay, worse ye can stop the fighting by slaying your foe!"
Narm rose to defend his lady, but Rathan pushed him down again with two strong
fingers. "Don't start! Ye're not fully healed yet, not nearly. I'm not having
ye rushing around getting hurt and dispensing worldly sage-speech and crying
all about the place, yet. D'ye hear? Just lie back down and wait. We'll see if
there's time for me to spare to listen to such foolishness later."
Merith went to Shandril then, and tickled her gently under the ribs on one
side, until in irritation the young lady turned from the wall. Then he swept
her up in his arms and kissed away her tears. "Nay, nay, little one, you need
not be ashamed or upset on our account. It is a hard road you walk, an
adventurer's road. Would you not walk it together, with us? It is not so
lonely or hard, with friends."
"Ohh, Merith," Shandril said, and sobbed upon his shoulder. Merith carried her
over to where Florin and Jhessail sat, and sat her down upon his own lap
before them. Jhessail and Florin both looked at her with smiles.
"You must not cry so," Jhessail chided her. "Does the hawk weep because it has
wings? Does the wolf howl because it has teeth? We do what we can with our art
or our skill-at-
SPELLFIHE
arms. Is your spellfire so different? Use it as you see fit, and don't hold
yourself responsible for the attacks others make on you, or this place. We do
not blame you for them."
She reached over and patted Florin's knee. "Let's all go down to the great
hall as soon as Eressea has done her healing," she said, "and see if there's
aught to eat or drink. Violence always makes me hungry."
In a turret that curved out from the inner face of the walls of Zhentil Keep,
in a small, circular chamber, Ilthond lay on a familiar floor. He lay upon the
painted circle that he had practiced teleporting to over and over again, and
groaned in pain. None were there to see or hear; he was alone behind three
locked and hidden doors. The pain wracked him in waves of red agony, like a
man struggling through the breakers upon a beach. Ilthond crawled forward
between waves, seeking the cabinet where he kept his potions. He wondered
dully if he'd make it in time.
"That's quite enough of this foolishness," Elminster said peevishly. "I leave
ye and within half a dozen breaths ye're fighting yet another mage trying to
steal spellfire for himself! Well, then, I'll not leave ye again... yell stay
in my tower, ye two, with my scribe Lhaeo and myself.
"To draw off all who are snooping about hoping to seize spellfire for
themselves, Illistyl and Tbrm will impersonate ye, and will stay in a tent
with Rathan upon Harpers' Hill. Merith, ye and Lanseril will keep a watch upon
them. Now pass that wine ye're curled so lovingly about, Rathan, and let's
have no argument or endless clacking of tongues; the matter's settled."
"I'm glad of that," Florin said dryly. "Have you no task for Jhessail or
myself?"
"Eh? Gods' watch, man! Someone has to watch over the dale, and fight the
armies of Zhentil Keep if they come calling! You two ought to be able to
manage that!"
There were dry chuckles, and then a yawn. Shandril's eyes were nearly closed.
"Love," Narm said gently, shaking
9249*
ED GREENWOOD
her. "Are you sleepy?"
"Of course I am," she replied faintly. "We were going to bed when this uproar
started, remember?"
"Tb bed, then!" Elminster said gruffly. "All of us will go over to my tower
together and then mind the lot of ye all return here, except ye two. I don't
want to be falling over a lot of snoring knights in the morning!"
"At this rate," Lanseril replied, "you're safe on that score. You'll be
falling over a lot of snoring knights at highsun, instead." Amid chuckles they
went out into the night.
"Keeping you awake, Rold?" one of his fellows grunted jovially at dawnfry that
morning. The guardroom was strewn with gloves, helms, and scabbarded blades,
as their owners lingered over the last of fried bread, tomatoes, and bacon.
The old veteran yawned again.
"Glad I am, indeed," he said, "that the young lord and lady are out of the
tower. No offense to them, mind you. It's just that I'll be more likely to
sleep when I'm off duty."
"Less of sinister mages and assassins skulking in every hall and chamber and
peeking in at all the windows, you mean," another, sharp-voiced guard agreed,
buckling on his sword.
"Aye, Kelan. Less art we cannot hope to fight... and less treachery from
within." A little silence fell at the veteran's words. Then Kelan spoke softly
to them all. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl akte20.pev.pl
"Florin?" Jhessail hailed him tentatively, as she drew near. "Are you badly
hurt?"
"As usual." Florin's voice was rueful, and he lowered it so that only she
could hear his next words, so faintly that she
Eo GREENWOOD
almost missed them. "I fear I am growing too old for this constant battle,
Jhess. It's not the thrill it used to be."
"Oh, no, you don't," Jhessail said briskly, putting a slim arm about his great
shoulders. "Not now. We need you." Awkwardly she drew him down until he was
sitting against the wall. "You'll feel much better once you've been healed."
Merith joined them. Florin nodded gratefully to them both, and then quietly
fainted.
Jhessail let his head rest heavily on her shoulder and said to her husband,
"My lord, please run to the strongbox for one of our potions. He's hurt worse
than I thought."
Shandril, watching this, turned her face to the wall and leaned her forehead
upon her arm. "I I we must leave you. You are always hurt for our sake, one
attack upon another. You are my friends! I must not do this to you, day after
day, mages attacking and all. . ." She burst into tears.
"Must we have all this weeping?" Rathan complained. "It's as bad as all the
fighting! Nay, worse ye can stop the fighting by slaying your foe!"
Narm rose to defend his lady, but Rathan pushed him down again with two strong
fingers. "Don't start! Ye're not fully healed yet, not nearly. I'm not having
ye rushing around getting hurt and dispensing worldly sage-speech and crying
all about the place, yet. D'ye hear? Just lie back down and wait. We'll see if
there's time for me to spare to listen to such foolishness later."
Merith went to Shandril then, and tickled her gently under the ribs on one
side, until in irritation the young lady turned from the wall. Then he swept
her up in his arms and kissed away her tears. "Nay, nay, little one, you need
not be ashamed or upset on our account. It is a hard road you walk, an
adventurer's road. Would you not walk it together, with us? It is not so
lonely or hard, with friends."
"Ohh, Merith," Shandril said, and sobbed upon his shoulder. Merith carried her
over to where Florin and Jhessail sat, and sat her down upon his own lap
before them. Jhessail and Florin both looked at her with smiles.
"You must not cry so," Jhessail chided her. "Does the hawk weep because it has
wings? Does the wolf howl because it has teeth? We do what we can with our art
or our skill-at-
SPELLFIHE
arms. Is your spellfire so different? Use it as you see fit, and don't hold
yourself responsible for the attacks others make on you, or this place. We do
not blame you for them."
She reached over and patted Florin's knee. "Let's all go down to the great
hall as soon as Eressea has done her healing," she said, "and see if there's
aught to eat or drink. Violence always makes me hungry."
In a turret that curved out from the inner face of the walls of Zhentil Keep,
in a small, circular chamber, Ilthond lay on a familiar floor. He lay upon the
painted circle that he had practiced teleporting to over and over again, and
groaned in pain. None were there to see or hear; he was alone behind three
locked and hidden doors. The pain wracked him in waves of red agony, like a
man struggling through the breakers upon a beach. Ilthond crawled forward
between waves, seeking the cabinet where he kept his potions. He wondered
dully if he'd make it in time.
"That's quite enough of this foolishness," Elminster said peevishly. "I leave
ye and within half a dozen breaths ye're fighting yet another mage trying to
steal spellfire for himself! Well, then, I'll not leave ye again... yell stay
in my tower, ye two, with my scribe Lhaeo and myself.
"To draw off all who are snooping about hoping to seize spellfire for
themselves, Illistyl and Tbrm will impersonate ye, and will stay in a tent
with Rathan upon Harpers' Hill. Merith, ye and Lanseril will keep a watch upon
them. Now pass that wine ye're curled so lovingly about, Rathan, and let's
have no argument or endless clacking of tongues; the matter's settled."
"I'm glad of that," Florin said dryly. "Have you no task for Jhessail or
myself?"
"Eh? Gods' watch, man! Someone has to watch over the dale, and fight the
armies of Zhentil Keep if they come calling! You two ought to be able to
manage that!"
There were dry chuckles, and then a yawn. Shandril's eyes were nearly closed.
"Love," Narm said gently, shaking
9249*
ED GREENWOOD
her. "Are you sleepy?"
"Of course I am," she replied faintly. "We were going to bed when this uproar
started, remember?"
"Tb bed, then!" Elminster said gruffly. "All of us will go over to my tower
together and then mind the lot of ye all return here, except ye two. I don't
want to be falling over a lot of snoring knights in the morning!"
"At this rate," Lanseril replied, "you're safe on that score. You'll be
falling over a lot of snoring knights at highsun, instead." Amid chuckles they
went out into the night.
"Keeping you awake, Rold?" one of his fellows grunted jovially at dawnfry that
morning. The guardroom was strewn with gloves, helms, and scabbarded blades,
as their owners lingered over the last of fried bread, tomatoes, and bacon.
The old veteran yawned again.
"Glad I am, indeed," he said, "that the young lord and lady are out of the
tower. No offense to them, mind you. It's just that I'll be more likely to
sleep when I'm off duty."
"Less of sinister mages and assassins skulking in every hall and chamber and
peeking in at all the windows, you mean," another, sharp-voiced guard agreed,
buckling on his sword.
"Aye, Kelan. Less art we cannot hope to fight... and less treachery from
within." A little silence fell at the veteran's words. Then Kelan spoke softly
to them all. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]