The wizard rose in a smooth pivot that brought him around facing the guard tree again. "Quick, lass. Show me the ladder," he growled, trotting across the grass again.
"The name's Shar, old man," Sharantyr told him, amused. He merely grunted. She raced past him with smooth strides in the darkness and laid her hand on the ladder. "Here."
"Right. Now find me the first tree in that direction ye can climb," he ordered, pointing west along the edge of the dell. Sharantyr gave him a look that he saw most of as she passed, but he merely grinned and followed her, taking out the wand that spat lightnings and muttering something over it.
The lady ranger turned, hand on hip, only her face visible in the darkness. "Here. Is that someone coming?"
"Undoubtedly. Take this"-he handed her the wand, butt-first-"and this." Into the same hand he put a strangling-wire taken from inside his boot.
Sharantyr frowned. "Where'd you-no, strike that. I don't want to know."
"Wise of ye. Take the wand up the tree and affix it there, somewhere sturdy where its aim won't slip with wind or working loose. I want it pointing squarely at the gate, and ye back down here, in a breath or less."
"Oh, yes, Lord," she said in mocking, breathless tones. Elminster grinned and patted some unseen part of her as she climbed past, stepping swiftly back to avoid a kick that did not come.
He bent his head to listen and heard again the hurrying thud of boots and creaking of leather and metal armor that meant death was swiftly coming up the track for them.
He got his other wand into his hand, just to be wise and ready. There was a thump beside him, and Sharantyr was coming back to her feet after her leap, breathing heavily. He took her hand.
"Done? Good, come!"
Together, hand in hand, they ran east. Sharantyr was astonished to find the Old Mage's long, scrawny legs twinkling ahead of hers, as swift as any stag, tugging her along faster across the dell. Abruptly Elminster's hand jerked her to the left along the line of trees, to where the rocks of the mountain began to rise.
"Here! Quick and quiet, now," Elminster panted. "Let's get as far as we can without making any noise." Together, like two heavily breathing shadows, they slipped away along the line of tumbled rocks, creeping and crawling where they had to, cushioning each other to avoid noisy falls, and more than once ending up face-to-face, gasping the same air in the darkness. Behind them they could see the torches and flashing blades, and hear occasional shouted orders of the large group of men-at-arms who were searching the dell and the trees around it.
"What now?" Sharantyr whispered into Elminster's ear as the rocky tongue of a mountain hid the last glimmers of torchlight from their view.
"We go on, east, the length of the dale," the Old Mage whispered back and turned to continue. "If the castle was down that track, we started from about halfway along the dale."
Sharantyr squeezed his shoulder, bringing him to a halt. "It's not that I don't mind losing an entire night's sleep fighting and running about," she whispered, "but I would like some answers, please."
Elminster nodded. "Ye shall have them, after we put another twenty breaths or so of travel behind us. I want no blades following us."
Sharantyr whispered back simply, "Lead on," and he did.
They crossed a small stream and another, babbling rivulets snaking amid the stones and winking back starlight beneath their feet. Elminster stopped finally, in a shadowed spot where they could sit on rocks and look out over a moonlit expanse of rock and scrub below, before the dark wall of the trees began.
"Ask, then," he bid her simply, passing his belt flask over.
Sharantyr wet her lips with its water. "The wand?"
"Most Myth Drannan wands can be speech-set."
Sharantyr chuckled softly and waited.
So did he, of course. She rolled her eyes. "Explain," she ordered flatly.
Elminster grinned in the darkness and said, "Unlike wands made today, ye can cause that wand of mine to unleash its magic by itself, with no hand upon it and no word spoken. Ye're familiar with the spell called 'magic mouth' by most? Aye, like that. When the conditions ye speak are met, the wand fires. I recalled that I'd never set that one-ye can only do it once-so I set it to discharge when someone in robes, or carrying a staff or wand, comes through the gate into the dale."
"Into-Ah, that's why the 'keep low' warning for Harpers. A nasty trap." Her last words had an edge to them.
Elminster looked at her closely. "Are ye all right, lass?"
Sharantyr shook her head angrily. "I'm just-Slaying Zhents is one thing, but killing people I have no quarrel with, and whose faces I haven't even seen, just doesn't sit well with me, that's all."
Elminster put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry I've dragged ye into all this," he said quietly.
After a long, silent moment she put strong fingers over his and said as softly, "Don't be."
They sat together, silent and unmoving, for a long time.
After awhile, Elminster looked up at the stars, chuckled, and asked, "Can I have my hand back now, Shar?"
Sharantyr patted it and let it go. "I've another question, Old Mage."
" 'Elminster,' please. 'El,' if ye prefer. Ask."
"Aren't you worried about all those mages the guard told us about? Will they not find you by magic?"
"Nay, they can't find me. Those who bear Mystra's burden can't be put to sleep, held immobile, or commanded by magic that strikes at the mind. To all magic that searches, spies, or tries to control, we are simply not there."
"I thought thy amulet-the greenstone amulet like Storm wears-did that."
Elminster grinned. "I wear it to conceal those powers of the burden. Besides, if I wear it, I have it to give to a traveling companion in need of it. If I'd been wise enough to be wearing it when I went walking, I'd give it ye now."
Sharantyr's eyes were dark again. "Without it, how can I avoid being found by these prying magics?"
"Ah, yes." Elminster grinned and put a bony arm around her shoulders. "Now that's why these stars find ye and I hurrying about in the dark." He rose and tugged at her hand. "Come on," he said briefly, and she got up and went with him into the night.
"Nothing, sir," the ranking swordsman said, torchlight gleaming on his black armor.
"Do you mean," Mrinden said in a voice thick with incredulous rage, "that someone came through the gate, slew the watchman, and disappeared, all in the time it took us to get up the hill from the barracks? How stupid d'you think I am?"
"There's no trace of them, sir," the senior Sword replied stolidly. "They're either deep in the woods or are past us into the open dale already. Or they went back through that." He inclined his head toward the flickering gate. "You've seen the blood, sir."
Mrinden turned to Kalassyn. "Well?"
Kalassyn drew his fellow wizard into a face-to-face huddle and spoke in low tones. "If they're past us, we'll never find them. It's either a personal affair-a man, maybe even one of ours, bent on killing whomever we left on watch, for his own reasons-or a lone meddler who will turn up in the dale tomorrow. There's been no time to bring in a large band and hide them all or get away without us hearing. Most likely they went back through the gate."
Mrinden frowned. "That trail is just a mite obvious, isn't it?"
"A trap?"
Mrinden nodded.
Kalassyn shrugged. "We've no choice but to go through, unless you want to explain to Stormcloak or Bellwind why we did not. Sabryn went through earlier this evening, on some secret affair I'm not supposed to know the slightest thing about. Perhaps he needs help and tried to get to us."