'Why not?' he said. 'If die we must, why not die rich?'
'Narm,' Shandril said very softly, 'could you not gather coins later?'
Narm turned and looked at her. Shandril held out her arms toward him. When he knelt by her, he found she was shaking. 'Lady?' he asked, holding her.
'Please, Narm,' she whispered, dragging him down atop her, her hands moving with sudden urgency. Narm, surprised, found that she was very strong. His discarded pack fell across the globe, and they spoke no more for a very long time.
Later, they lay face-to-face on their sides in the darkness, Shandril's breath warm upon Narm's throat and chest. Even cold coins and rock could make for a comfortable bed, he decided. Shandril held Narm gently, thinking he had drifted off to sleep, but he spoke to her then.
'Lady,' he said roughly. 'I know it has been but a short time since we met, but I love you.'
'Oh, Narm,' she said. 'I think I have loved you since our eyes first met in The Rising Moon, and that feels like so very long ago-a lifetime at least!' She laughed, hugging him tenderly. Her expression turned thoughtful. 'It's strange, but I'm not afraid to die now. It's not so terrible to die here, if we die together.' Narm's arms tightened about her.
'Die?' he said. 'Who knows but that a little digging might win our freedom? The dracolich's grotto is too big to be completely filled with rock… I hope.'
'We'll dig, then,' Shandril said, 'if you'll let me up.' They rolled apart and uncovered the globe. Its radiance showed them each other, shadowed and bare, and Shandril snatched up her tunic automatically to cover herself.
'Lady,' Narm said gently, 'may I not even see you?'
Shandril laughed in embarrassment, and her laughter became tears. Narm held her and soothed her as her sobs died away. He murmured gentle support and reached over her shoulder to catch up her tunic. 'We're not dead yet,' he whispered.
They sat together for some time in silence, arms about each other, summoning strength. Then Shandril began to shiver, and they both dressed and got up to walk around for warmth. Narm gathered gold enough to fill both their pouches and found another treasure for his lady.
He handed Shandril a ring and bracelet joined together by fine chain, so that it covered Shandril's forearm from finger to elbow with curved plates and worked hoops of chased electrum, chain and all being set with many sapphires.
For himself, he found a dagger, with its brass pommel worked into the snarling head of a lion, and two rubies inset as the lion's eyes. He passed over many splendid treasures, but he managed to put one bar of gold in his pack before he heard Shandril's hiss of surprise.
Something moved on the rocks beyond Shandril, approaching her from the tumbled rockfall. Something black and scaly, and about as long as a shortsword. It scuttled soundlessly over, around, and through the stones toward them. It was some sort of long-necked, long-tailed lizard. Narm stepped forward hastily to blast the creature with his art if it attacked. Without slowing, the creature crested a rock five paces from Shandril, who raised the globe to see the creature more clearly.
Suddenly, the creature began to grow. It continued down the rear side of the rock, boiling, shifting, and growing taller. The black surface flecked off. Beneath was purple cloth. Rising tall, and stretching slim arms out, Symgharyl Maruel smiled at them triumphantly.
'So we meet again,' the sorceress said with soft menace. 'Cower there, dear,' she told Shandril, 'while I deal in art with this young lion of yours.' Her hands were moving like gliding snakes. Shandril looked back at Narm. His hands were also moving, but she saw in his face the brave despair of one who has no power left to hurl magic.
The Shadowsil hissed a word of power, then took the time to laugh. Shandril felt red rage boil up within her, and she leaped forward. At least she would have the satisfaction of seeing the sorceress surprised before she herself died.
6
Death in the Dark
On facing magic: Run, or pray, or throw stones; many a mage is a fraud, and you can win the day even while your heart trembles. Or you can stand calm and mumble nonsense and wiggle your fingers. Some few workers of the art are such cowards that they may flee at this. And as for others, at least when men speak of your death in days after, they'll say, 'I never knew he was a mage; all those years he kept it secret. He must have been a clever fellow.' Of course, some who listen may disagree.
The glowing globe was in Shandril's hands. Without thought, she swept it up and smashed it with all her strength into The Shadowsil's face.
The sharp singing of its shattering was lost in Symgharyl Maruel's rough shriek. Darkness fell. Shandril dropped the fragments she still held and drove a foot hard into the purple-robed belly. The screaming ended, and Symgharyl Maruel sat down suddenly. Narm was running toward Shandril. 'My lady! Are you all right? Shandril?' At his words, the sorceress drew a shuddering breath and fixed one glaring eye on Shandril through the blood now running down her face. Symgharyl Maruel's hands began to move.
'Oh, gods!' the young man moaned in fear. Shandril stood frozen an instant. But with The Shadowsil caught up in spellcasting, Shandril seized a rock and smashed it again into the sorceress's face. The rock struck with a horrid, wet thud, and Shandril drove it down again.
'Leave us alone, you bitch!' Shandril screamed at the sorceress, as the rock rose and fell yet again.
The Shadowsil struggled to block Shandril's attack. She fell backward until she lay full-length on the rocks, bloody and unmoving.
'Shandril?' Narm whispered anxiously, as he clambered over the jagged rocks to reach her.
Shandril stared down, the rock falling from bloody fingers, and she burst into tears.
Narm held her with a fierce tenderness and stared down at the sorceress. Neither her spell nor his cantrip had taken effect. Perhaps Shandril had spoiled The Shadowsil's spell with her rock attack, but Narm doubted it. Certainly nothing had spoiled his casting. A twinkling cloud of light around Narm was all that let him see the fallen sorceress in the darkness. Symgharyl Maruel lay still and silent. Was it that easy to kill so strong a wielder of the art?
Shandril mastered her sobs and held tight to Narm. As they stood together they heard the distinct scrape and tumble of rocks beyond the rockfall. Hope leaped in them both.
Shandril looked up through the twinkling mist. 'Do we shout to tell them we're here?'
Narm frowned and shook his head. 'I think not. We may not want to meet the diggers. Let's shout only if they stop digging.'
'Well enough,' Shandril said, 'if you stay with me.'
Narm held her tight. 'Think you, fair lady, that I am a rake?' he asked in mock anger.
'A lady cannot be too careful,' she quoted the maxim back at him.
He grinned. 'Please make known to me, Lady, when this carefulness of yours begins.'
Shandril wrinkled her nose and blushed with embarrassment. Then her attention was caught by the twinkling cloud surrounding Narm.
'What's that?'
'I don't know.' The young man tried to dust the glowing mist away from him, but it clung close. 'Strange…' he said, but then the rocks grated again. They stood and watched warily for the rocks they could see to move.
