'I thought of that,' Ergluth Rowanmantle said grimly, 'and left him in the care of two of my most trusted guards while I sent for Broglan. When he got to the steward's room, one of the guards was dead on the floor- burned to a husk-and Drimmer, dagger and all, was gone. It seems one of my trusted guards was … someone else.'
'We've got to stop him,' Storm murmured, falling back into welcoming drowsiness, 'before he slaughters half your command.'
'Lady,' Ergluth told her grimly, 'I've lost eleven men since sunset, all slain at their posts … to say nothing of the two who'll be months coughing the smoke out of their lungs from fighting the fire. You'll get no argument from me….'
He fell silent then, and shook his head. A gentle snore told him she was no longer hearing his words. Well, let her sleep. Without her, Firefall Keep would be a house of ghosts right now, every last one of them naught but ashes. He looked from armsman to armsman, all four of them veterans. 'Protect her,' he said gruffly. 'Sword anyone who comes into this room and tries to get at her-even if you think it's Broglan, or me-who fails to give you the password. I'll be back before highsun.'
The four guards nodded, looked at each other, and went to the door to drop the bar behind him. Then they went slowly and carefully around the room. They checked under the bed and above its canopy, one searching while the others watched. They found nothing. Casting a look at the silver-haired woman on the bed, they leaned on their swords and tried to think how they might walk out of Firefall Keep alive.
Not many scenarios came to mind.
Master, I failed.
Shayna Summerstar let her master feel her bitter disappointment as she put the dagger high up on the ledge above her wardrobe, where no prying eyes would find it.
NAY. YOU DID WELL. YOU STOOD AGAINST THE WARDS AND TESTED THEM-FUTILE, BUT FEARLESS. I LIKE THAT.
Shayna felt a glow of pleasure at the praise, but tried not to show him just how much she needed his approval.
I could have had her! She was asleep-I could have found some way past the wards, if there'd been time! But the guards came …
I SENT THEM.
You sent them?
I MADE THEM THINK THEY'D HEARD SOMETHING ODD IN THE HARPER'S ROOM. THEY DID THE REST. THEN I SENT THE MISTS THAT HID YOU, AND LED YOU TO THE HIDDEN WAY OUT.
But why? I thought you wanted her dead!
OVERCOME, I SAID. STORM SILVERHAND MUST DIE ONLY BY MY HAND, AT A TIME WHEN I'M READY TO TAKE HER POWERS.
Why? Her mind-voice was small and miserable.
SO THAT I CAN BECOME A GOD he replied matter-of-factly.
On her way back to her bed, Shayna stopped in mid-stride and began to shiver uncontrollably.
When the war hound trotted down the hall, paws clicking on the stones, one of the guards knelt and said, 'What're you doing here, boy? You should be back at-'
He reached out to scratch its head, but the blade of a drawn sword reached past his hand to hover in front of the dog's nose. 'You heard him, Tith,' his fellow guard said almost regretfully. Trust no one, he said… and why would a hound be wandering around up here, anyway? Begone, you, or-'
The dog growled and sprang back, away from his blade-but it left two tentacles behind, lashing out at the ankles of both guards.
They cursed, slashed vainly, and fell hard on their behinds. The dog that was not a dog swarmed in over them, taking their frantic thrusts through its shoulders as it stretched out two sets of impossibly long jaws and bit their faces off. The blood of three beings mingled together on the floor for an instant before fires rose from the bodies.
The dog reared up among the blazing bones and became manlike … a dog-headed man with two thin, hooked blades of bone where its hands should have been. It thrust them between the doors, and sharply up, lifting the door bar. Then the blades of bone slowly lengthened, moving the bar away from the door so that it could be swung open.
A third hand grew from the belly of the thing that was not a man, and did just that, revealing the bed beyond. Standing on it, eyes red-rimmed and unshaven jowls set grimly, was the boldshield of Northtrees March, with a loaded crossbow in his hands. It snapped.
The quarrel thrummed across the room, plucked the dog-headed man off his feet, and drove him hard against the far wall of the passage.
'Come on,' Ergluth Rowanmantle told it, dropping his bow and unsheathing his sword. 'You want me? Come in and get me!'
But the eyes that met his were as dark and knowing as the old Summerstar matriarch's had been. The shapeshifting thing let his flesh melt and flow until the crossbow quarrel fell out. He favored Ergluth with a wide- fanged and mirthless smile, and vanished down the hallway.
The white-faced boldshield hissed a heartfelt curse. Somehow it knew he dared not leave the bed, and the protection of the magic shield he'd raised there. The shieldstone was a Rowanmantle family secret only his oldest, most loyal armsmen had known about, and both of them … had been on guard outside his door.
Ergluth Rowanmantle looked out at blackened bones and cursed again, not caring if he raised echoes this time. How was he ever going to get to sleep after this?
Highsun came and went, and the four guards grew restive.
'Gods, but I'm hungry,' one of them growled. His stomach added a wordless roar of agreement. His companions smiled ruefully.
'It won't be empty bellies we'll have to worry about,' one of them said, 'if he comes back and finds us gone from our posts. It'll be our throats-after our backsides do a dance or two with the lash.'
There were weary murmurs of agreement.
A quietly amused voice from behind them asked, 'What if I go with you to the kitchens? Will he lash my behind, too?'
The armsmen whirled around. Storm Silverhand was sitting up in bed, her wards dissolving around her in twinkling, drifting motes of light.
'Beg pardon, lady,' one of the Purple Dragons began hastily, 'but-'
She raised a hand. 'None necessary. I've had sleep, and now food is my need. Stand clear now; I'm going to do something with magic that I don't want you to get caught in.'
She watched them back warily away, closed her eyes, and felt for the rushing stream of silver fire. Yes! As she'd thought, it couldn't restore spells she'd cast. . but if she diverted just a touch of it, for just a moment, it could duplicate a spell she was still carrying, if her mind could hold the extra load. She might be no great realms-shaker as a mage, but one thing all Chosen of Mystra had were minds that could carry heavy loads. They learned to, or soon went insane. Hmmph; perhaps the less thought along that line, the better….
'Done! Thank you, Mystra,' she murmured aloud, watching silver fire that only she could see swirling around her. Now to do it again….
She'd already decided she'd need one for Ergluth Rowanmantle's room, another for the wizards' study, and a third for Shayna Summerstar's bedchamber. The heir of House Summerstar was the most important being to protect in this place, after all-even if the boldshield was the most useful. She called on the fire to make herself a third watchful eye, leapt off the bed, and snatched up her boots.
'Food!' she bellowed, 'and then your commander, to release you from your orders while you still have strength to yawn.'
Good-natured chuckles answered her. The guards drew in protectively around her as she hauled on tunic, sword belt, boots, and gloves once more, and set forth.
