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.

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.”