Stormlight

'Aye.' It was a measure of how upset Broglan Sarmyn was that he forgot to use any of Vangerdahast's titles. His next words made that agitation very clear. 'What should I do?'

The stone turned slowly in the air and emitted a sound that might have been a sigh. 'I can't spare the time just now to investigate,' the distant Vangerdahast said bluntly, 'and I'm leaving this in your capable hands. I realize this is something that could kill you all-and baffle Laspeera, myself, Elminster, and every last one of his ex- apprentices, for all I know. I won't tell you anything grandly foolish about knowing you'll pull through, and such nonsense. Just do the best you can, Broglan. If you have to flee from the place or bring Firefall Keep crashing down, do so. Try to stop short of butchering the entire Summerstar clan, if at all possible.'

'I–I'm heartened to know that you understand,' Broglan said hesitantly. 'I have just two more questions. Firstly, how far can I trust the local boldshield, Ergluth Rowanmantle?'

'Absolutely, so long as you do nothing he sees as a threat to the realm. The man is loyal through and through, and is far more. . perceptive than most Purple Dragon commanders. Next question.'

Broglan took a deep breath-this was it, there was no ducking the matter now-and plunged right in. 'It looks like we're going to have a senior Harper who also happens to be of the Seven Sisters on our hands, here, any moment now. Storm Silverhand is named prominently in Athlan Summerstar's will.'

'Did he deed the vale to her, or just the keep?'

'Neither-quite,' Broglan replied. 'There's nothing that diminishes the authority of the crown of Cormyr. . but she is guaranteed freedom to arrive, leave, dwell, and hunt in the vale as she pleases, unless or until a subsequent royal decree deems otherwise. I think Athlan was aiming to protect his lands and kin by surrounding them with a Harper training facility, if anything happened to him.'

'You think he knew he was going to die soon,' Vangerdahast asked, 'and specifically how, or at whose hand?'

'It's impossible to say. It feels like he was just being cautious-unusually cautious, for one so young.'

'Indeed,' the royal magician agreed. 'As for Storm-watch her. There's not a lot any of us can do to stop her. Just be polite to her, and watch.'

'But what if she's our murderer?'

'Why would she slaughter some back-country noble in another land? Use your head, man-if Storm took any interest in Summerstar at all, it's because he was mixed up in something the Harpers didn't approve of … slaving, dealing with the Zhentarim, or the like. All the more reason to be wary. Doesn't this Firefall Keep have a haunted quarter, or something?'

'A 'Haunted Tower,' Lord,' Broglan replied.

'And what better way for someone at the keep to hide-or explain away-funny goings-on? 'You didn't really see that-it was ghosts!''

'I see where you're leading, Lord. It could be someone striking out against Lord Athlan because he uncovered the secret, or threatened to.'

'Exactly. And if Storm is a danger, get away from there and get word to me, above all else! That spell- reflection amulet I gave you ought to protect you against at least one attack, if she offers you violence. If that happens-don't waste your chance to flee, even if means abandoning the others, or a pretty young lady of the realm, or all the Summerstars and their horses and servants too! Got it?'

'I understand, Lord-and I thank you.'

'Speak to me whenever you feel the need,' Vangerdahast said briskly. The stone crackled once and started to sink toward the cushion. Broglan sat back wearily and watched it fall.

Encouraging words, but no aid. He was on his own, at least for now. How many more deaths would it take, how many more war wizards would die before the royal magician sent serious aid? And would that aid, if it did ever come, reach Firefall Keep in time?

Broglan rubbed at his eyes. He did not see the darkness that shifted in one of the shadows beyond the wards to slink away to the next shadow. One of the wards flared for an instant, as if powerful magic had been used nearby, but Broglan did not see that soundless flash, or its cause.

Sometimes mighty mages are just as tired and careless as the rest of us.

'My thanks for your work in getting to me so quickly,' the Bard of Shadowdale said, turning in her saddle and slowing her mount to lay a hand on Vrespon's knee, 'but I must leave you here.'

'Leave me?' the Harper in worn leathers asked warily, looking around at the desolate, rolling wilderness. 'Here?'

'Just ahead-at the top of this hill.'

'I wondered why we were riding up rather than just going around,' the Harper muttered, the lift of his voice making his words a question.

Storm tossed silver hair out of her eyes and gave him a level look. 'If I am to do any good at Firefall Keep at all, I must get there at once-or at least, far sooner than they expect me. You half-killed your horse getting to me as swiftly as you did. I want you to rest her on the way back. Ride mine. Consider it yours now.' She lifted one leg, put both hands on her saddle, and propelled herself a good dozen feet off to one side, to land crouched and facing him. The horse continued its patient walk up the grassy hill.

'You're going to walk to Firefall Keep?' Vrespon protested. 'Dressed like that?'

Storm chuckled. 'No, I'm going to gate there-and what's wrong with what I'm wearing, anyway?' She put hands to hips and tossed her head in mock indignation. Gods, but this lad was young. Right now, his eyes were shining in delight. He mustn't get many chances to do anything exciting, or be a part of any adventures. Ah, well- time to give him something to remember. Inspiring the young is part of the Way of the Harp, after all.

She strode on up the hill, still wearing her floppy old boots. She'd added torn and dirty trousers and a field smock that was more dirt and dung than garment. The rents they sported demonstrated repeatedly that she had nothing on underneath … and Storm hadn't even brought a dagger, let alone a purse or even a pouch to hold a meal or gear. Though she hadn't given it an order or even a glance, her horse trotted after her like a large and contented dog.

They reached the crest of the hill together, and Vrespon gaped in surprise. The little bowl that dimpled the hilltop wasn't visible from below-nor the small ring of standing stones that filled it. The ancient, moss-covered sentinels of craggy, fissured dark rock reached to the sky like the fingers of some long-forgotten, half-buried god. They stood in a tight circle, enclosing nothing.

Storm strode toward them without hesitation. 'I take it you didn't know these were here?'

'No,' said Vrespon, still looking amazed.

'And I take it you'd like to be back in Hillmarch as soon as you can, without a long ride through or around the mountains, entertaining bandits along the way?'

'Y-Yes,' Vrespon replied warily.

'Then get down from that saddle and hold your horse quiet,' the lady of the Harp told him, and tore a long strip from her trousers. Stuffing that scrap of fabric into one of her boots, she calmly took off the rest of her filthy clothing and tossed the smock to him. 'Cover the horse's head with it,' she directed. 'They hate this, and always bolt if they see that instant of falling, amid the stars.'

'What instant of… falling?' the Harper messenger asked.

Storm whipped what was left of her trousers around the head of her mount, and led it ahead into the stones. 'Come and see,' she called back to him, and when he hesitated, beckoned in the sultry fashion of a tavern dancer. This time, he did not look hastily away, but neither did he advance.

'What is this place?' Vrespon asked, bewildered-but he was asking the empty, wind-whipped air. The space between the stones was empty.

He swallowed once, took a last look around at this uninhabited corner of southeastern Daggerdale, with the Moonsea Ride a ribbon of mud in the distance. He squared his shoulders and led the horse steadily on into the stones. . not hurrying, but not hesitating either.

Storm was suddenly elsewhere, and her feet were wet. The gelding snorted nervously and danced, its hooves splashing up water around her. The bard held its bridle firmly, patted its flank in reassurance, and led it out of the pool just below the well.

Two startled pairs of eyes looked up at her from the grassy bank. The man and maid lay in each other's arms,