"Right," Elminster said briskly. "Thankee." He stepped back and turned to face the crowd. "Ye all heard the solemn words of the Keeper of the Fastness, I trust?"
They struggled to reply, and could not. In their enforced silence, they stood and listened to the old wizard chant something long and low and full of words that echoed strangely and yet seemed to clang and slither upon the ear. And then Elminster stretched his arms wide and brought the chant to an end.
Two women appeared, one by each of his outstretched hands. One was tall and shapely yet robust, clad in leathers like the three pinioned rangers. Her garb was of muted green and brown, and her russet hair curled long and free. Her eyes were large and of the deepest brown, and when she moved, she drew the eye of every man there.
The other woman was as tall and as shapely, but thin, and her hair seemed like spun glass or flowing ice-the tresses of a ghost, that one could see through. She stood still and at peace. Her eyes were of the deepest green, and she wore green silks that did not hide what lay beneath them, yet she brought awe and stillness upon those who looked at her.
She nodded gravely to Elminster and then to the other lady, who smiled back at her. Then the lady in leathers walked on air to where Ramtharage stood frozen. When she moved, it was with the surge of the leaping buck and the casual grace of the prowling panther.
"Do you know me, Ramthar?" The voice was low, even purring. The priest trembled, sighed, and spoke. "N-no, Lady," he husked, and licked dry lips. She stretched forth a long finger and touched him.
Sweat broke out upon his brow in a flood and washed down his cheeks. "I am Mielikki, and I tell you truly, diligent priest, that you err in this. I call upon you to free the men you have thought to sacrifice."
"Uh… ah… I do not worship thee, Lady," the Keeper of the Fastness managed to say, almost gabbling in terror. Then he whimpered at the flash of her eyes, and flung up his hands as if to ward off a blow.
The Lady merely curled her lip and drew back from him, turning her head. "Datha?"
The other apparition nodded and stepped forward. "But you do worship me, Ramtharage Druin… do you not?"
"M-myLady?"
"I am Eldath," she said gently, "and you have done me much honor down the years. Will you deny me now?"
"No! Ah, no, divine Lady…"
"Then do as I bid. Free those men and apologize to them for what you intended. Then go forth in the world and tell all who care that Eldath and Mielikki are friends and sisters, now and forevermore." She looked deep into his eyes and touched him with a finger. "Will you do this?"
Ramtharage shuddered and closed his eyes for an instant, then seemed to see the knife in his hand for the first time. He flung it away in disgust and went to his knees in the air. "Oh, Lady, I will!"
Eldath smiled almost impishly. "Good. That's settled, then." She turned briskly and embraced Mielikki, and they both turned and shook hands with Elminster before Ramtharage's dumbfounded eyes.
"This was well done, mage," Eldath said, and Mielikki reached out and tousled the wizard's long but thinning white hair.
"Thanks," Elminster said dryly, bowing his head to hide his grin. He was still doing that when the air swirled like stars around him, and the sudden hubbub of movement and sound told him that the goddesses had gone, and banished all bindings in the Fastness in their going.
The Old Mage and the Keeper thumped unceremoniously to the ground in unison and looked at each other. Around them shouts and sobs and excited talk rose and swelled.
"Well," Elminster asked wearily. "Do ye believe now?"
"I… I do," Ramthar told him, and there were tears in the priest's eyes. "I came so close… to such a grievous mis-"
"But ye see that, and didn't do the thing," Elminster told him briskly. "Good. About time. Now stop pontificating, free these very patient men"-he grinned up at the three pinioned rangers, who grinned happily back-"and go do something useful." The Old Mage whirled around to point at the pool. "Ye can clean up Eldath's Water, for a start."
"The Fastness, you mean," Ramtharage corrected him, almost happily.
"Lad, 'twas Eldath's Water nigh a century ago, when I first bathed in it," Elminster told him gruffly. As the priest stiffened in dawning indignation, the Old Mage waved a cheery hand and vanished, leaving them all staring at the empty air where he'd been.
"Gods!" the youngest ranger gasped. "He summoned Our Lady-two goddesses, no less-just for us!"
"That, lad," said the grimy, sweat-soaked ranger beside him, "is why all Faerun needs Elminster of Shadowdale. He aids us, great and small, one at a time. All the gods keep him from harm, I say."
The third ranger chuckled. "By some of the things I hear he's pulled, down the years, I don't doubt they do. More'n that-I'll bet you the task keeps them right busy, some nights!"
The Castle of Shadows, Kythorn 19
The shadows seemed to drift more slowly at night, sliding with stately grace around the three sleeping Harpers. They lay sprawled on the floating silks and cushions Amdramnar had provided, outflung hands and feet just touching each other for reassurance. By the frowns on their faces and their shifting movements and murmurs, it seemed that such reassurance was very much needed.
Over them all hung the blue blade, humming its quiet, endless song, and the questing shadows parted around it as they came. Otherwise, all was quiet.
Until the wall not far from Itharr's feet melted away with the faintest of sighs to reveal a dark figure beyond.
It stood motionless, watching, for a long, patient time before it stepped into the chamber. Catlike, long tailed, tentacled, and with broad, soundless soft pads for feet, yet it was somehow recognizably Amdramnar.
It did not go far, and eyed the sword warily as it padded forward to stand by Itharr's head. There it halted, looking down.
And then, with infinite slowness, its shape began to shift. The tail and tentacles drew in, reabsorbed by the body, whose catlike bulk grew lighter in hue and less furry before straightening toward an upright stance. With each passing moment it grew more and more like Itharr's sprawled, hairy, comfortably naked form.
Soon all that could be deemed different in the standing, silently shifting figure were eyes that gleamed opaque in the gloom, and those broad pads of feet. And then the figure reached down.
That's just about enough, Sylune thought crisply, as she floated over Sharantyr on silent, unseen watch. Sharply, she brought down a hand that none but she could see, and her spell snapped out.
The Malaugrym recoiled as if he'd been stung, as a wall of black, seeking tentacles suddenly appeared under his ringers, spanning the entire chamber and sealing him off from Itharr and everything beyond.
He stared at the black barrier, shaking his head in disbelief as its eager tentacles probed for him, reaching out seeking tendrils until he batted one away in annoyance- and then, of course, discovered his hand was caught.
Another tentacle came cruising up like a hungry shark, and the Shadowmaster hissed a spell in sudden fear and tore free. Wild-eyed, he stumbled quickly back through the wall and restored it to solidity in panting haste.
Sylune laughed soundlessly as she floated above the three Harpers, and thought again about just how much fun it was to go adventuring.
Ancient, deep shadows shifted out of the way with uncaring slowness, drifting in this hidden place like proud old ghosts. They ignored the black-bladed, gleaming new weapons that hung watchfully among them-weapons waiting to flash to the attack and deal death to an intruder who never came.
In an old and ancient chamber that few knew existed, inside that ring of vigilant death, stood the four beings who'd set the enchanted blades to their silent task. One was a black, glistening globule as large as a house, whose only distinctive features were a pair of green-and-black bat wings large enough to have lifted a dragon. It answered to a terse greeting of, "Bheloris." The second was a swift, many-legged lizard whose bulbous head was a thing of a thousand staring eyes, bulging in as many directions. This grotesque cluster was surrounded by a ring of starfish arms ending in snapping mouths, like the maws of snapping turtles, and was greeted as "Yabrant."