Shandril sighed. “Come on,” she said, spurring her horse into a trot. “Let’s get safely to The Rising Moon. I would see Gorstag again.”
The fire burned low in the hearth, and it fell quiet in the taproom of The Rising Moon as the last of the few guests went up to bed.
Lureene quietly swept up fallen scraps of bread as Gorstag made the rounds of the doors. She heard his measured tread upon the boards in the kitchen and smiled.
So she was smiling in the dim glow of the dying fire when Gorstag, who carried no candle when he walked alone by night, preferring the dark, came into the room.
“My love,” he said softly. “I would ask something of you this night.”
“It is yours, lord,” Lureene said affectionately. “You know that.” She reached for the lacings of her bodice.
Gorstag coughed. “Ah… nay, lass, I be serious… ah, I mean, oh, gods look down!” He drew a deep breath as he walked slowly up to her in the dimness and asked very quietly and formally, “Lureene, I am Gorstag of Highmoon, a worshipper of Tymora and Tempus in my time, and a man of some moderate means. Will you marry me?”
Lureene looked at him, mouth open, for a very long time. Then she was suddenly in his arms, looking up at him with very large, dark eyes. “My lord, you need not… marry me. It was not my intention to-ah, trap you into such a union.”
“Do you not want to be my wife?” Gorstag asked slowly, roughly. “Please tell me true…”
“I would like nothing more than to be your wife, Gorstag,” Lureene said firmly. His smile then was like a sudden flash of the sun in the darkness, as his arms tightened about her.
“I accept,” Lureene added, gasping for breath. “Kiss me, now, don’t hug the life from me!” Their tips met, and Lureene let out a little moan of happiness. Gorstag held her as if she were a very fragile and beautiful thing that he feared to break. They stood together so, among the tables, as the front door of the inn creaked gently open, and a cool breeze drifted in about their ankles.
Gorstag turned, hand going to his belt. “Aye?” he demanded, before his night-keen eyes showed him who had come.
Lureene turned in his arms and let out a happy cry. “Shandril!”
“Yes,” said a small voice. “Gorstag? Can you forgive me?”
“Forgive you, little one?” Gorstag rumbled, striding forward to embrace her. “What’s to forgive? Are you well? Where have you been? How-”
Outside, there was a snort and a creak of leather, and in mid-sentence, Gorstag said, “But you have horses to see to! Sit down, sit down with Lureene, who has a surprise to tell you, and I’ll learn all when I’m done.”
“I’m married, Gorstag,” Shandril said quickly. “He’s- Narm’s with the horses.”
Gorstag threw her a surprised look, but he never slowed his step. By the light of the fire, Shandril saw tears wet upon his cheeks, and then he was gone.
Lureene threw her arms about Shandril. “Lady Luck be praised, Shan! You’re back and safe! Gorstag has been so worried about you, ah, but now… but now-” She burst into tears and held Shandril tightly.
Shandril felt tears of her own stinging her eyes, and she gulped quickly to forestall a happy flood. “Lureene… Lureene…” she managed, voice breaking. “We cannot stay. Half the mages in Faerun are after us, and we’re a menace to you even by being here.”
Fearfully, she stared at the barmaid. She was touched that Lureene had missed her so-she’d always thought the older girl must find her tiresome. Now she feared to lose what she had so fleetingly seen, swept away by fear. Lureene met her gaze and smiled, shaking her head slightly. “Ah, little kitten, you have been hurt indeed, to fear these doors shut to you,” Lureene said sadly. “If to see you again, we must entertain a few thousand angry mages, entertain them we shall, Gorstag and I, and think it a small price to pay.
“Ah, Shan, thank you! Thank you! You’ve made Gorstag so happy, he’s like a youngling again-did you not see him stride and spring to the door? You’ve made him happy again, the way he has not been since you left.”
“But we must leave again, on the morrow,” Shandril said, teetering on the edge of tears. “How-?”
“He will understand, Shan. He knows you are not ours any more-I don’t doubt that he’s taking the measure of your man right now! It’s just that he didn’t know what had befallen you. Could you not have left a note or some word?”
Shandril cried uncontrollably, emptying out all the fear and regrets and homesickness of the days since she’d fled the inn, seeking adventure. Lureene held her tightly and rocked her wordlessly, until at last Shandril’s sobbing had died away to shuddering breaths.
Then she kissed Shandril’s bent head and said softly, “Do not be so full of sorrows, little kitten. I am most grateful to you.” The body in her arms made a sort of bleating, questioning sound. Lureene hugged it still more tightly and said, “Gorstag was so upset over you, one night, that he could not sleep. I came to comfort him. He’d never have permitted me to do as 1 did, if he’d not been so in need of comfort. And he would not have asked me to be his wife.”
Shandril looked up, hair all across her reddened eyes in disarray. “He did? Gorstag? Oh, Lureene!” Her tears were happy this time, and she hugged Lureene with bruising force. Ye gods, Lureene thought, stepping back to hold her balance, if this is what adventure does for a woman…
A woman? Shandril? But-aye! She is a woman, now, Lureene thought, holding her by the shoulders and meeting her delighted laughter with a fond smile. This was not the girl who’d slipped away from the kitchen.
This was a lady with a lord of her own-and something else. Something beyond the weapons worn so easily at hip and bottoms… a quiet sort of confidence, of power hidden. Yet none of the loud arrogance of the adventurers who came to the inn for a night of revelry and often left, made wiser by Gorstag*s hands and tongue, shamefacedly.
“Shandril, what has happened to you?” she asked quietly.
Shandril gave her a strange, almost haunted look. “Oh,” she said in a whisper. “You can see it so clearly then, can you?”
Lureene nodded. “Aye. But I know not what it is.” She raised a hand to Shandril’s lips. “No… tell me not, if you would not. I do not need to know.”
“But you should know,” Shandril said simply. “It is not something easily believed, though. I hope Gorstag will be able to tell me more about why I have it.”
Lureene grinned at her suddenly. “Then it can wait until after you’ve sat down and soaked your feet and eaten. I’ll wake Korvan.”
“No!” Shandril said sharply. Lureene turned to look a question at her. “No, please,” Shandril pleaded. “Wake him not. I cannot trust his cooking-no offense to you-for my own good reasons. I’ll cook, if you will have me.”
Lureene nodded, looking troubled. “Did Korvan… bother you?” she asked with a little frown.
“It is not that,” Shandril said. “Please trust me, and wake him not. I’ll tell you, but it is better not to rouse him.”
“Then I’ll not leave your side unless your man or Gorstag is at hand to protect you while you are here,” Lureene said firmly. “You can tell me what you like after you’ve rested.” She reached out her hand. “Come here by the fire.”
Shandril let herself be led and sat in a warm chair with a high back. Lureene poked the fire up into new flames and set fresh, dry wood on it, and went for a bowl. When she returned, Shandril’s head had fallen onto her shoulders, and she was asleep.
Narm held the bridles of both horses, tense-ready to flee hurriedly if need be. He looked about him in the moonlit mist of the road, but he heard no creature moving in the rolling silence. Wait, Shandril had said. Come after me only when you have stood so long that you grow cold-and if you wait that long, mind you come most careful, ready for War. Narm shifted nervously. Was he cold enough, yet? There was noise within.