"You could run to Zhentil Keep and back before nightfall, first," she replied briskly, and all three of them chuckled. A moment later, she relaxed gratefully into the warmth of an energetic toweling.
"You won't be the only one smelling like a tavern, though," Itharr said. Shar opened her eyes to look a question at him and saw that both men had stripped to the waist-hairy beasts, the pair of them-and were drying her with their undershirts. She wrinkled her nose again at the thought of smelling like an unwashed, sweaty man, then smiled at their hurt expressions and said hastily, "You are sweet, both of you."
"I was wondering when you were going to say that," Sylune's voice said in her ear, in a faint, private whisper. Belkram proudly held out Shar's leathers for her to see the hasty but neat stitching where they'd sewn her rent shoulder panel more or less back together.
She took their work in her fingers and shook her head in delighted wonder. "How did you do this in such a short time?" She clutched the leathers to her breast and looked from one beaming Harper to the other. "You'll make wonderful mates, you two!"
"Oh, no," Itharr said firmly, backing away.
"No, indeed," Belkram agreed, eyes wary. "We're kind folk, not crazy men."
Sharantyr stared at them and then around at the gory body behind her, the soot-blackened rocks, the mushroom pulp strewn everywhere… and started to laugh. Not crazy. Indeed.
The snorting sound from the empty air at her elbow told her Sylune shared her amusement.
Shar shook her head again, her broad smile refusing to fade, and then a gentle breeze touched her with cool fingers, reminding her that she was- She looked down, then up at the carefully raised eyes of the two men, and said crisply, "You have my thanks, and my clothes. I'd like them back now, if you don't mind."
They bent and gathered her garments promptly. There's a worn spot here on your halter," Belkram said helpfully, pointing, "where it's starting to pull apa-"
"I'll live with it, thanks," Shar told him firmly, taking everything in an armload and retreating hastily. "A worn part of my body customarily lives beneath it."
"Don't," Itharr said quickly, holding up a warning hand. "The body…"
Sylune added quietly, "To the right three paces, and there'll be no chance of slipping on gore or tripping over the… remains."
Shar sighed, breathed deeply for a few moments, and then turned her back on her two companions and marched around the body in a wide circle, heading for the other side of the ruins.
Belkram and Itharr exchanged glances, smiles, and shrugs. "Worth seeing, and that's all I'd best say," Itharr said quietly, reaching for the zzar bottle and its cork.
"I agree," Sylune's voice said sharply from the stone Belkram's fingers had just closed on. "Let's leave the comments at that fair observation, shall we?"
"Of course, great lady," the Harpers replied in swift unison, and were treated to the sight of a stone chuckling.
Belkram nearly flung it down a moment later when a startled scream rent the air from the far side of the ruin. The two men snatched out blades and sprinted to the rescue, running too fast to spare breath to growl, "What now?" — so Sylune voiced it for them.
They came around a rubble-strewn corner at a dead run, to see no nude ranger. "Shar?" Belkram called urgently.
"Here," their companion replied curtly, and they turned toward her voice. To find her, they had to pass through an arch and around the tumbled remnants of a wall, into a little sheltered corner. "Did you bring my blade?" demanded the woman huddled in the corner, shielding herself with her hands.
"N-no," Itharr said. "What befalls?"
"Turn around while I dress," Shar ordered, "but keep your blades ready. You may need them."
A few breaths later she joined them, breathing heavily in her haste. "What made you scream?" Itharr asked, feeling her hand on his shoulder. "You never scream."
"Well, thank you," Shar replied evenly, "but I do. And so would you, if you were a woman wearing nothing but a smile and walked almost right into them!"
"Who're 'them'?" Belkram asked her, puzzled.
Shar pointed in exasperation. "There! In the trees!"
The Harpers looked, and frowned-and then stiffened. Just inside the edge of the concealing trees, a dozen warriors stood frozen, weapons raised, faces tense, and eyes alight with frustration and appreciation. Belkram peered narrowly at the silent, absolutely motionless band. Only their eyes moved as he swung his sword idly in the air and stepped forward.
"Randal Morn, Lord of Daggerdale, if I'm not mistaken… and his court," he said, and bowed to one of the statuelike figures. "A moment, sir," he said, and then looked down to the stone in his hand. "Lady?"
"The second ring Sharantyr took from the body-from the left little toe-should hold the means to free them," Sylune's voice said, a little wearily. As Belkram turned to walk back to where Shar had been working, Sylune added, "They can help build a pyre. The body must be burned before someone gets a good look at it. Waste no time about this, mind."
"Of course not, great lady," Belkram said, sarcasm only the faintest of ripples in his tone.
The deep tinkling sound made in reply by the stone in his palm was quite the loveliest chuckle he'd ever heard.
The Castle of Shadows, Kythorn 16
Blue-tinged mists swirled hastily out of the way as Kostil of the Malaugrym stalked angrily through the Castle of Shadows. "Summoning us all to a council is a wise-if time-devouring-action at such a time, but how long must we wait for the Shadowmaster High to appear? I have plans-I daresay we all do-and now, with magic raging wild in Faerun and godlings bounding all over the place, is not the time to tarry in bureaucratic power games!"
"I am of like mind," Yabrant said quietly. "What could he be about, to be so important tha-"
Under their feet, the shadows shook with the sudden boom of the great bell. They stopped, turned as one, and grew wings to speed back to the Great Hall as the rolling echoes died away.
Then the bell rang again, a single strike in measured time with the previous ring. Their eyes met. The bell tolling? This could mean only one thing-and Dhalgrave had been forceful, strong, and in full command of his powers not long ago at all.
Unlike Dhalgrave, neither of them-senior Shadow-masters both-had the strength of magic to levitate around a chamber, move the seeking eye of the portal around Faerun, speak to an errant Malaugrym, bring one's own shape out of invisibility, and alter the portal's size and location in the Great Hall, overriding its spell defenses constantly and smoothly to do so… all at once.
Moreover, all the things that laid humans low-heart attacks, diseases, poisons, the failure of veins and lesser organs-were minor annoyances to Malaugrym able to change their bodies. Those of the blood of Malaug declined slowly, losing their shapeshifting abilities fitfully, usually along with their memories. Unless they were slain.
Kostil and Yabrant exchanged another grim glance and redoubled their efforts to get back to the throne chamber. The great bell tolled once more as the speed of their passage made the shadows they tore through rise in a continuous moan.
Daggerdale, Kythorn 16
"It has been a pleasure to aid you," Randal Morn said quietly, shaking their hands. Brammur smiled broadly and nodded his head in emphatic agreement, moustaches bobbing, but Thaern stood watchfully a little way to the side, an arrow fitted and ready in his bow. In these dark days, Daggerdale was hard pressed to keep its rightful lord alive.
The three rangers in worn leathers bowed in response. Straightening up, Sharantyr kept her features straight in the face of Brammur's longing gaze. The old warrior was obviously smitten with her. The eyes of the other loyal men of Daggerdale said plainly that they'd not forgotten their glimpses of her, either. She gave them all a cheery smile and said, "When the smoke begins to rise, I take it these ruins will become a very dangerous place to tarry?"