the woods and deal with them, discover who or what else is lurking about to prey on our people, find and tend all the wounded, and rebuild what was ruined in the fighting.'
'Well, that takes care of the council,' Torm said lightly. 'Let's be getting on with it. Mourngrym can make us all more sausages-I'm certainly hungry enough-and we can meet again when the snows fall.'
'Rathan? Gag him, will you?' Illistyl snapped scornfully. 'To think that I once bedded that!'
'Once? From what I recall, twi-'
'Enough, Torm,' Dove said firmly, 'or have you forgotten the fish bucket?'
'The fish bucket?' Mourngrym asked, leaning forward with interest. 'Is this some sort of torture device fine upstanding noble lords can use on annoying thieves?'
'After he made a particularly crude remark,' Jhessail explained, 'Dove held Torm's head under water in the bucket of live fish she was bringing to the tower for evenfeast… until he ran out of bubbles.'
'Ah, that explains what happened to his wits,' Merith said delightedly. 'They got soaked through and grew mildew…'
'Gods in their palaces,' Belkram said to Itharr in low tones, 'are all their council meetings like this?'
'Oh, no, no,' Storm assured him cheerfully. 'Best manners this morn… because of you. Usually we just shout Torm down and get on, and no one speaks in turn.'
'Strange you should mention that,' Florin said with a smile, 'as seniority brings us now to you.'
'Aye, indeed,' Storm said with a smile. 'I concur with my sister Dove, but be aware that aside from Shar, Sylune, and my two Harpers here'-Belkram and Itharr smiled around the table and swept mock bows-'this assembly is just going to have to abandon chasing Malaugrym for the time being.'
'Malaugrym?'
'The shapeshifters who attacked us in the tent, the night before the battle in Mistledale,' Sharantyr explained.
'Those weren't doppelgangers?'
'No, something far worse.'
'Oh… one of Mourngrym's speeches?'
'Stow it,' Florin ordered with a grin and a sigh.
'Because some among us can't resist the urges to be clever, these little get-togethers are always so much fun.'
'Hold hard,' Shaerl said, leaning over the table with a frown. 'Do I hear you rightly? Chasing Malaugrym? Are there a band of them?'
'A family, actually,' Storm explained softly. 'An ancient clan who kill those who know about them-so guard your lips. For centuries Elminster has slain any of them who dared to enter the Realms.'
'So with him gone…'
'Chasing may no longer be necessary. They'll probably find us soon enough,' Sharantyr observed.
'Is there any way-short of magic that may go wild, and blow this tower apart, or cover us all in cow dung-of knowing they're not here in this room, right now, taking the shape of one of us?' Torm asked sharply.
'No,' Storm and Dove said in quiet unison.
'Well,' Rathan joked, 'You did come in late, Torm…'
'Oh, no, you don't,' Torm said warningly. 'No one's opening me up to see if I'm really a scaly monster!' There was suddenly a dagger in his fingertips, and he waved it meaningfully.
'You're safe, Torm,' Jhessail said with a smile. 'No one could impersonate that debonair manner, that outrageous tongue, that-'
'Utter stupidity,' Illistyl told the ceiling.
'As to the internal defense of the dale, and helping our folk set things to rights,' Storm added, 'journeyman Harpers will shortly gather in Shadowdale from all directions. To prevent the Zhents and… others from sneaking agents in among them, they all will report to Dove, who will cast a spell that marks them with a visible badge, a spell that contains nasty surprises for anyone trying to duplicate it. To get such a badge, of course, the Harpers will submit to mind-reading magic, allowing us to weed out ambitious Malaugrym.'
'So this band of confirmed Harpers helps rebuild the dale,' Torm said, 'freeing us to do-what?'
'Ride patrol through the Elven Court woods, southeastern Daggerdale, and the other lands around Shadowdale, scouring it of brigands and monsters, giving us warning of attack from Zhentil Keep, Daggerdale, or Hillsfar. I've heard rumors of fell beasts leaving the ruins of Myth Drannor to roam the woods, and even talk of some wealthy merchants in Sembia hiring small armies in hopes of seizing a dale or two as private estates.'
'What?' Torm laughed. 'Armies, yes… but ambitious Sembian merchants? Show me the fool who'd dare challenge the famous Knights of Myth Drannor!'
'Look in yon mirror,' Jhessail advised him in dry tones, pointing across the morning room. 'You challenge us all too often.'
'Vile slander!' Torm said severely, waving a finger at her. 'May the gods look down and-'
'Gift thee with an egg, valiant Torm,' Shaerl said. She swept a peppered plover egg up from Mourngrym's plate and thrust it whole into Torm's mouth.
'Nnnmumph,' he protested.
'I agree completely,' Rathan replied earnestly, patting the thief's hand (the one without the dagger). 'Thy every word is as a pearl of wisdom, glistening among the dull pebbles of other oratory!'
'Oh, please' Illistyl said. 'You're as bad as he is!'
Rathan gave her a hard look. 'I prefer to say 'as good as,' young miss-'tis more charitable, far.'
'If the free entertainment could subside for a moment,' Merith said patiently, 'perhaps we can hear the rest of Storm's plans.'
Storm grinned at him. 'We'll send two patrols equipped for long forays. The Knights will ride to Daggerdale; the Rangers Three with Sylune will circle Voonlar, the woods near Myth Drannor, and Mistledale. Both bands should make sure the Zhents haven't rallied anyone else in the south and deal with any trouble before it reaches our battle-riven dale. The dalefolk are too exhausted to deal with even sneak thieves.'
'Fine, sounds sensible. Let's be doing it,' Illistyl said, rising from the table. 'I weary of talk. Merith, have you found me a horse?'
'What's wrong with your palfrey?' Mourngrym asked.
'Killed in the battle,' Storm informed him curtly. Illistyl nodded, her eyes bright with sudden tears, but said nothing.
Across the table, Torm was in full flight again, leaning around Belkram to smile at Sharantyr.
'Good, my lady,' the thief said with a leer, his eyes bright, 'I could see my way clear to ably guard so beautiful a flower of the dale! Wouldst thou permit me to accompany thee on patrol?'
Sharantyr almost smiled. 'I've grown used to Belkram and Itharr, thanks,' she said crisply, taking the arms of the two Harper rangers seated on either side of her.
'I did not mean merely myself, Lady,' Torm said, his manner suddenly serious. 'Three blades and a disembodied voice isn't enough battle might for what you might well run into.'
'I'll be going with them, Torm,' Storm said quietly.
Heads turned in surprise all around the table, but the Bard of Shadowdale was looking at the three rangers. 'If you'll have me?' she asked quietly.
'Right gladly, Lady,' Belkram said, glancing quickly at his companions for confirmation, and receiving it.
A frown had come onto Mourngrym's face, 'Torm may have a point about strength of arms. I was thinking of sending you Knights out on the first patrol east; there's word of a Zhent mageling rallying forty or more Zhentilar in the woods.'
'I'll look forward to meeting them,' Storm said in silken tones. More than one person around that council table shivered at the sound of the bard's voice.
'Are we agreed?' Mourngrym asked, standing up and looking down the table. There was a general affirmative chorus, and he said briskly, 'Good-now get gone, all of you, so I can bathe and get dressed and have some food that clever Knights don't snatch off my plate!'
Chuckles and mocking salutes answered him.
Mourngrym made for his bedchamber, shook his head, and reflected-not for the first time-how untenable a position he held, the junior member of a band of adventurers who handed him the lordship of a dale after they were
