"Fairer than me?" Sharantyr teased, holding out the dagger to him.
It hung in the air between them for a long, silent breath as their eyes met. Elminster's hand slowly reached out. The Old Mage took the dagger as gingerly as one handles a bloody corpse when dressed in finery, and said slowly, "My memory says yes, but what are mind images beside living beauty? She's long dust, now."
Sharantyr took his elbow and led him firmly to where the brigands had tethered their horses. "Long ago? How long ago was this?"
"In Myth Drannor before it fell," Elminster replied in a voice that was almost a whisper, his eyes on something far away and long ago.
He felt Sharantyr's arms move gently around him, the warmth of her leather-clad body against his shoulders. "Oh, Old Mage," she said tenderly into his neck, "I wish you well. You deserve fairer than this."
"I'll be all right," Elminster said firmly. "Stop soaking my robes with tears, look ye! They cost me three silver pieces, they did, in-" He fell silent and then added, "Well, in a place gone now."
Then he snorted. "Which is where we'll be, if we stand about sobbing until winter finds us here." He grinned suddenly. "Aye, lass, I'll be all right."
There came a knock on the door-not the first time that had happened, nor yet the last. Lhaeo opened it without delay, his eyes anxious.
Storm stood on the doorstep with two men he'd not seen before, so Lhaeo spoke to her in simpering tones. "Well met, Lady Storm. How does this fair morn find thee?"
"Restless to speak with the Lord Elminster," Storm replied crisply, with a wink. "Is he within?"
Lhaeo's eyes warned her. "Nay, Lady," he said softly. "He is gone, alone, this dawn, walking and troubled. You know why. Look to the trees. I have no doubt you'll find him therein."
With a look, Storm collected the two silent men at her side and bowed. "Our thanks, Lhaeo. We go. Those who harp will look out for the Old Mage."
Lhaeo bowed in his turn and said, "My thanks for that, and farewell. I hope to see you all again, in happier meetings."
He went in and the door closed. Itharr and Belkram looked at Storm, than at each other, and spoke at once.
"Is that Elminster's scribe?"
"What now, Lady?"
Storm looked at them both. "Be not hasty in judgment of Elminster's true friend," she said calmly. "He is not as he appears, for good reasons, and he is very worried for the safety of Elminster. The task I set you both now, friends, is the guarding of the Old Mage wherever you find him. Go now and seek him out."
Itharr looked at her. "You will not be with us, Lady?"
A shadow passed across Storm's face for just a moment. She looked at them both, and suddenly it seemed as if she were about to cry. Then she shrugged. Her hand dropped to the hilt of her blade and clenched about it like a thing of iron.
"I cannot. I want to, very much, but this thing I must not do. Itharr, Belkram, please believe me. There is a good reason that I cannot be with you in this."
"The burden of Mystra?" Belkram asked, very quietly. The taller of the two Harpers, he had frozen into treelike immobility but for the flashing of his keen eyes.
Storm looked at him in silence, her face going slowly white.
"I read a lot," Belkram added, almost defiantly. "Always old books, the sort others have forgotten. You learn more that way."
Storm nodded very slowly. "Be very, very careful," she said to him in a voice that trembled a little, "Belkram of Everlund. The things you know could kill you very quickly if the wrong folk hear."
"Such as myself?" Itharr asked half in jest. The shorter, burly Harper spread his hands in a wry "gods, why me?" gesture.
Storm looked from one man to the other and then threw strong arms around them both and swept them into an embrace. Three chins touched. She bestowed two swift kisses, looked deep into both sets of eyes so close to hers-at least one owner blushed-and said briskly, "Go now. Take much care, and come back alive to tell me what has befallen. Hurry! For all his years, Elminster walks fast and can find trouble as well as men half his age. Or less," she added meaningfully. "Tymora smile upon thee. Which reminds me: Trust in no magic nor any god or goddess, for strangeness is afoot."
"As usual," Itharr answered solemnly as they drew blades and saluted her in a flash of steel. "Our thanks, Lady. I shall never forget crossing blades with thee."
"Nor I," Belkram added simply. "If you grow lonely, mind, and want a man about the place…"
Storm laughed and shooed them on their way. "Get you gone! Elminster waits for no man, nor woman!"
Sharantyr looked about. They had come to a land of wild ridges, trees, and winding, steep cart tracks linking overgrown farms. "Where are we? Northwest of Shadowdale, I know, but-"
"Dagger Wood," Elminster said briefly. "Daggerdale begins over that way." He waved to the northwest. "Not a place to be caught out in by night."
"Shall I find us a place to sleep?" The lady ranger looked about. "Or go hunting? I had no time to find food, and it looks as if you brought none."
"I never do," Elminster replied. "It's the work of but a thought and-" He fell silent, then whispered, "And a little magic."
Sharantyr's only reply was a firm, wordless clasp of his shoulder. Then she was gone, with the whispered words "Wait here" floating back to him. Elminster snorted, took a long stride after her, then stopped, shrugged, and felt for his pipe. Trust the lass to choose a place with no stump to sit on.
It was nearly dark before she returned. Two plump rabbits hung in one hand; the other held berries, mushrooms, and other things Elminster couldn't remember the names of. "My apologies for the length of our parting," Sharantyr said. "This land is wild indeed. Twice I've had to dodge orc arrows, and-But ne'er mind. Come, Old Mage. I've found us a camp."
Elminster rose, smiled at her, and extended a hand for the rabbits. "You may need a free arm to swing a sword," he said impatiently. Dangling the rabbits before his eyes, he asked, "Dare we have fire?"
Sharantyr shrugged. "There'll be others about, no doubt."
"The orcs ye met?"
"They'll bother no folk again," was the calm reply. Elminster looked at her slim, strong shoulders expressionlessly and followed her down into a wooded gully.
"Magic gone for a day, and already I'm being ordered about by women," he said gruffly. Sharantyr cast a look back over her shoulder, and he winked. Shaking her head, she hastened on through a thicket of small trees whose branches caught at them both.
Elminster grumbled and flailed along in her wake. Sharantyr's blade reached back from time to time to hold aside the worst of the barbed branches.
They came out into a little open space that faced the setting sun. Below them the land fell away into a smooth-sloped hollow. It had once been a farm-Elminster could see the line of a ruined fence-but youngish trees now grew in its fields. The gaping, vine-cloaked ruins of a timber-and-stone house and barn rose on a far slope. Sharantyr nodded at them with her chin and said, "Come on. Let's get off this height. We can be seen for miles."
"Can't an old man even enjoy the sunset?" Elminster grumbled, trotting obediently after her.
"That depends on whether or not you want to live to see another sunset after this one," Sharantyr replied in low, wry tones. Elminster remembered a gesture from very long ago and made it in her general direction.
Sharantyr only grinned and said fondly, "Now, you know I'm too young to know what that means," and led him down a twisting, overgrown trail that took them by stones across a little brook, and up again to the waiting, gloomy ruins ahead.
Sharantyr looked at him in the gathering darkness. "Best move and speak quietly from now on. Can you cook?"
"If ye light the fire," Elminster replied, glancing at the rabbits again.