Then the door that Shandril had entered was flung wide. A burly, craggy-faced man with gray-white hair and level gray eyes wet with tears strode out. He stretched out a strong arm to Narm and said, “Well met, and welcome to the inn! I am Gorstag. You are Shandril’s Narm?”
Narm met his gaze squarely and swallowed. “Yes.-I was here almost two months back with the mage Marimmar. Shandril has told me of you, sir. I am at your service.”
Gorstag chuckled. “Well, you can be of service,” he said gruffly, “by leading one mount around to the stables with me.” He set off with a horse and three mules in tow.
Narm followed him into a place where a sleepy boy on night watch unhooded a lantern for them and fetched water, brushes, and feed. In companionable silence, they set to work.
“You know the art?” Gorstag asked softly, as they both bent to the same bucket. Narm nodded.
“I was trained in Shadowdale as a conjurer. Shandril and I have come straight from there, where we were wed under Tymora.” Narm felt suddenly shy under this old man’s stern, clear eyes. He said no more, then, as he turned back to Warrior, who rumbled appreciatively. He turned from the horse’s flank a few breaths later to find his gaze collected by Gorstag’s. Unconsciously, Narm took a step back, but he said nothing. At last, Gorstag nodded and turned back to the first of the three mules.
“Tell me, if you will, how you met Shandril Shessair/’ he said softly. The mule pricked its ears at him, but it was clear that he expected no answer from it. Narm studied the innkeeper’s broad shoulders for a moment.
“I saw her first here and… liked what I saw, though we did not speak. In the morning, I left with my master, and we made our way to Myth Drannor”
Gorstag’s arms stopped their rhythmic brushings for a moment, and then resumed. “We met with devils, and Marimmar, my master, was slain. I was rescued from the same fate, by the Knights of Myth Drannor, who patrol there.”
“Later I returned to Myth Drannor and saw Shandril from afar. She was the captive of a cruel mage, The Shadows!!, and I tried to free her. I called on the knights for aid, and we ended up in caverns where a dracolich laired. Shandril and I were trapped together when the cavern collapsed during a mighty battle of art. We thought we’d never get out, so…” Narm paused, studying the mule before him, and then sighed and turned to face Gorstag. “We came to care for each other. I love her. So I asked her to marry me.”
To Narm’s surprise, Gorstag nodded and chuckled. “Aye. It is the same for me.” He made a clucking noise, and the stableboy reappeared immediately. Gorstag nodded. “See to them all… the very best, mind, as if a fine lord and lady rode them.” He waved to Narm to follow him out, and then turned back to the boy and added, “Because they do.”
As they went back around the side of the inn in the moonlit, misty night, Gorstag said, “My house is open to you both, but you seem in much haste. How long can you stay?”
Narm hesitated. “We must leave on the morrow, sir,” he said quietly. “Many have tried to slay us-slay Shandril, actually-these past days, and they will no doubt try again. We dare not tarry. Elminster told us to be sure to call on you, and Shandril insisted too, but there is danger to us here, waiting, and we would not bring it upon you.”
“Can you say more?” Gorstag asked. “I will not stay you, and Elminster is a name I set great store by, but I would rest easier, Narm-and call me Gorstag, mark you!-to know where and why the little girl I raised these years passing is riding, and who would do her ill, and why.”
“I have not the right to answer you, Gorstag,” Narm replied. “Only my lady should speak on this. I can say that those who pursue us are of different causes, but all, it seems, are powerful in art. Therein lies your peril and Shandril’s secret.”
They went inside the inn, only to find Lureene regarding them with a finger to her lips, as she knelt beside a chair before the fire. Narm raced forward at the sight. Behind him, Gorstag smiled.
“She sleeps,” Lureene said softly as Narm bent anxiously near. Shandril moved her head and murmured something. They all came close to listen.
“Narm,” she said. “Narm, we’re here. We’re home. Wait here… wake Gorstag… come carefully, ready for war…”
Narm kissed her cheek, and in her sleep she raised a hand slowly to pat at his head, smiling. Then, suddenly, she was upset. “She went for you,” Shandril cried faintly. “She went for you, and there was not time! I had to burn her!”
“Shan! Shan!” Narm said urgently, shaking her awake. “It’s all right… we’re safe.”
“Yes, safe,” Shandril said, awake now, looking up at him. “Safe at last.” She kissed his hand on her shoulder.
Then her eyes moved to Gorstag, who stood looking gravely down at her. “I am sorry,” she said slowly. “I did not wish to be such a trial to you. I should have told you where I’d gone. I was a fool.”
“We all play at fools,” Gorstag said with a smile. “You are back safely, and nothing else matters now.”
Shandril thanked him with her eyes and said, “We cannot stay, I fear. We are fleeing from far too many to vanquish or avoid if we stand and stay. We must ride on in the morning.”
“So Narm said,” Gorstag replied. “And he said it was for you to tell us why. Will you, lass?” Shandril nodded.
“Have you ever heard of spellfire?” she asked.
Gorstag nodded, sadly. “Your mother had it,” he said softly. “Oh, lass. Oh, Shandril. Beware the cult.”
“Beware the cult, indeed” Narm said ruefully. “We have fought them half a dozen times or more already, if you mean the Cult of the Dragon.”
“Aye,” Gorstag said, “I do.” But he said no more, for Shandril was gaping at him, flame flickering in her eyes.
She calmed herself and asked quietly, “Please, Gorstag, who were my parents?”
“The sage did not tell you?” Gorstag asked, gaping at her in his turn. “Why, your mother was a companion-at-arms of mine. We were adventurers together, long ago: Dammasae the Incantatrix. If she had a last name, I never knew it. She was born in the Sword Coast lands. She would not talk of herself.”
“Are you-my father?” Shandril asked softly. Gorstag chuckled. “No, lass. No, though we were good friends, Damm and I, and often held each other by the campfire. Your father was Garthond. A sorcerer he was, by the time he died, Garthond Snessair. I never knew where he was born either, but in his youth, he became apprentice to the mage Jhavanter of Highmoon.”
“A moment, if you will,” Lureene said gently. “This grows confusing. Let me go to the kitchen. Gorstag, pour ale, and tell your story as a story. If you ask question upon question, Shan, it grows as tangled as a ball of wool.
Shandril nodded. “You have told me the two things I wanted most to know. Unfold the rest as you see best, and I’ll try not to break in. By the gods, master, why did you not tell me all of this before? Years I’ve wondered and worried and dreamed. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Easy, lass. And I am not your ‘master.’ You are your own master, now.” Gorstag was solemn. “There were good reasons. Folk were looking for you, even then, and asking me where you came from. I never wanted to tell you a He, girl, not since I first brought you here. Oh, you had wise eyes from the first. I could not say false to you. I knew that these same prying folk asked you and the other girls questions when I was not about. If you knew the truth, they’d have tricked or drawn it out of you.
“So I said nothing of it to you, and let the rumors of my fathering you pass unchallenged, and waited for you to be old enough to tell. You are that, now, and past time. I’m sorry you had to run away to find your adventure. The fault was mine, not to have seen your need sooner, and made you happier.”