Spellfire: Shandril's Saga, Book I by Ed Greenwood

Author:Ed Greenwood [Greenwood, Ed]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9780786961733
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast Publishing
Published: 2011-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

12

SPELLS TO DUST

High magic is strange and savage and splendid for its own sake, whether one’s spells change the Realms or no. A crafter who by dint of luck, work, skill, and the Great Lady Mystra comes to some strength in Art is like a thirsty drunk in a wine cellar—he or she can never leave it alone. Who can blame such a one? It is not given to all to feel the kiss of such power.

Alustriel, High Lady of Silverymoon

A Harper’s Song

Year of the Dying Stars

Jhessail slipped softly into the bedchamber. Illistyl straightened from dragging the chest aside, and they shared a smile. “Worth hearing?” Jhessail asked softly.

Illistyl nodded. “I’ll tell you later.” They crept to the bed.

Among the twisted covers, Narm and Shandril lay asleep in each other’s arms. The lady mages gently laid a fur coverlet over the sleeping couple before Jhessail leaned close to Shandril and said, “ ’Tis time. Rise, hurler of spellfire. Elminster awaits.”

Shandril shivered in her sleep and clutched Narm more tightly. “Oh, Narm, how it burns.”

The lady mages exchanged glances. Carefully Jhessail laid a hand on Shandril’s shoulder. Heat tingled under her fingertips.

“She holds yet more power,” Jhessail whispered, “and this cannot be of the balhiir. Things are as Elminster suspected.” She bent again to Shandril’s ear. “Awaken, Shan. We await.”

Eyelashes flickered. “Narm … Narm, we’re called t—ohh. Where—?” Shandril lifted her head. In the leaping glow of the lamp Illistyl lit, she saw the two ladies of Art standing over her. She involuntarily tensed to hurl spellfire, and then relaxed. “My pardon, Lady Jhessail, Lady Illistyl. For a moment, I knew you not.” She shook her head ruefully. “Up, love. Arise.”

“Eh? Oh, gods, ’tis time already?”

“It is,” Jhessail said gently. “Elminster awaits!”

“Gods belch!” Narm growled, rubbing his eyes and flinging back the fur. Just as hastily he pulled it up again. “Ah—my clothes?”

Shandril laughed helplessly and handed him his robe.

Illistyl smiled. “We’ll await outside the door. Come when you’re ready.”

In the passage, she turned and whispered, “Tell no one yet, Jhess, but the Simbul came in by the window and listened, even as I did.”

Eyebrows lifted. “What did you hear, aside from lovemaking?”

“The life tale of Narm Tamaraith—full, open, and unadorned. His mother may well have been a Harper,” Illistyl replied. They both had cause to thank that mysterious group of bards and others who served the Realms.

Jhessail nodded. “He thinks so?”

Illistyl shook her head. “The thought hasn’t crossed his mind; ’twas his description.”

The door opened, and the two hastily dressed guests stepped out. Narm looked at the ladies curiously. “I mean no disrespect, but is there a secret way into this room? That chest …”

“We workers of Art have our secrets,” Illistyl replied crisply. “I dragged it.”

“Oh,” Narm said, “I see. Uh, sorry.”

They descended the stairs, nodded to the guards, and went out into the night. It was very warm and still, Selûne shone overhead, and Merith and Lanseril waited with mules. “Well met,” the elf said softly.

“Where’re we bound?” Shandril asked as he knelt to help her into the saddle.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.