Spellfire

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 innkeeper there-you saw him, that night; it was he who asked for the company's peace, and stopped the knife being thrown at old Ghondarrath-he was like a father to me. I never knew a time before the inn was his, and never saw the rest of Deepingdale. I still have not. I wanted to-to know adventure, so I ran away with the Company of the Bright Spear, who were there the night you were-and that is truly all there is to tell.'

'How came you to Myth Drannor?' (Underneath the bed, both cats cocked an ear, but kept their eyes firmly on each other.)

'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 Drannor. I wandered about in the ruins for a long time, and then I was caught by that lady mage-Symgharyl Maruel. You saw me then.' (More interest from beneath the bed. Both cats looked up, intently.) 'How, if you grew up only in the inn, do you know so much of life, and of Faerun?' Narm asked curiously.

'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 inn and the woods just behind it, the wide world-even Highmoon-was no place for a young girl, alone. I was no one's special friend, except his, and I was not big or strong enough to fetch and carry as much as the older girls, so I was never taken along on any errands.' She shrugged. 'And so the days passed.'

'What did you do in the inn?' Narm asked quietly.

'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 running of the inn, too, things seldom done, like repainting the signboard or redaubing the chimneys, and I helped with those. It was mainly the kitchen, though.'

'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 cannot know the right of it! Oh, yes, I got sick of the drudgery, and ran… and left my only friends-Gorstag, and Lureene, too-and I sometimes wish I had not, and I hated Korvan, but… but-' Her face twisted suddenly and she turned away. Narm stared at her back in astonished silence.

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, isnt 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? Yes?'

'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.

'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 cannot guess.' Narm frowned. 'But another thing occurs to me… this Gorstag must know who your parents are… and by the way he put it to you, Elminster may well know, too.'

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… I do not even know your last name let alone your parents.'

'Oh, have't 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