“And they worked you like a slave all those years?” Narm burst out angrily. “For what? You took no coin with you when you joined the company! Were you not even paid?”
Shandril looked at him in shock. “I-no, not a single coin,” she said, “but-” Narm got up, furious, and paced about the room. “You were treated little better than a slave!” “No, I was fed, and given clothes, and-” “So is a jester; so is a mule, if you count its livery! Before the gods, you were done ill!”
Shandril stared at him as he raged, and suddenly snapped, “Enough! You were not there and cannot know the right of it! Oh, yes, I got sick of the drudgery, and ran… and left my only friends-Gorstag, and Lureene, too-and I sometimes wish I had not, and I hated Korvan, but… but-” Her face twisted suddenly and she turned away. Narm stared at her back in astonished silence.
He opened his mouth to speak, not knowing what to say, but Shandril said coldly and clearly, as she turned about to face him, “I was happy at The Rising Moon, and I do not think Gorstag did me any ill. Nor should you judge him. But I would not quarrel with you.”
Narm looked at her. “I would not quarrel with you, my lady. Ever.” He looked away, then, and Shandril saw how white he was, and that his hands were trembling. She felt suddenly ashamed and abruptly turned aside as she felt her face grow hot. She got up hastily and walked toward the door. (Beneath the bed, two silent cats, who had watched all this, looked at each other and almost smiled.)
When she turned, Narm was watching her, and the look in his eyes made the last of Shandrils anger melt away into regret. She hurried back to him. “Oh, Narm,” she said despairingly, and his arms tightened about her.
“I am sorry, lady,” he whispered, head against hers. “I did not mean to upset you, or darken Gorstag”s good name. I-I lost my temper…”
“No, forgive me,” Shandril replied. “I should have let you yell, and not rebuked you, and there would be no quarrel.”
“Nay, the fault is mine. Forgiv-”
“Disgusting,” Torm’s cheerful voice said loudly behind them. “All this sobbing and forgiving each other all over the chamber-and not even wed yet!”
The knight gave them no time to reply as he strode forward to pluck the food tray up from the table, saying, “Terrible stuff, isn’t it? And such small portions, too! So, have you heard each other’s life stories yet? Picked out any juicy bits to pass on to old, bored Torm? Pledged undying love? Changed your minds? Decided what you want to do next? tea?”
“Ah, fair morning, Torm” Narm replied cautiously, rightly ignoring all the questions. “Are you well?”
“Never better! And you two?”
“Don’t leer, it makes you look ill,” said Shandril crisply. “I hear you prevented my capture, or worse, last night. My thanks.”
“Ah, it was nothing,” Torm said, waving tray, bowls, and all perilously in the air with one hand. “I-”
“Nothing, was it?” Jhessail challenged him severely from the doorway. “Three healing spells you took, and much moaning and complaining all the while, and it was nothing. Next time we’d do best to save the magic, and you’d appreciate your folly the more.” She took him briskly by the arm. “Now come away… how’d you like someone to burst into your bedroom, when you are alone with your love?”
“Well, that would depend very much on who they were,” Torm began, but Jhessail was propelling him firmly out the door.
“My apologies, you two,” she said, over Torm’s protests. “He’s just come from his bride-to-be, Naera, and is in somewhat high spirits.”
Torm looked at her, as if dazed. “Bride-to-be?” he gasped. “B-b-but…” His voice faded as he was marched out the door.
“Well met, Torm,” Narm said dryly as the door closed again. He and Shandril looked at each other and burst into laughter. (Beneath the bed, both cats looked pained at Shandril’s giggles.) When they subsided, the two embraced again, and sat in comfortable silence for a time.
“What do you think this test will be, love?” Shandril asked. Narm shook his head.
“I know not. Your spellfire, surely, will be put to the test, but how I cannot guess.” Narm frowned. “But another thing occurs to me… this Gorstag must know who your parents are… and by the way he put it to you, Elminster may well know, too.”
Shandril nodded, “Yes. I want to know, but I have lived all these winters so far without knowing. I would rather know you better, Narm… 1 do not even know your last name let alone your parents.”
“Oh, have I not told- Tamaraith, it is, my lady. Sorry. I didn’t realize I had told you so little as that.”
Shandril laughed. “We haven’t exactly had overmuch time for talk, have we? You may have told me, and I’ve forgotten in all this tumult. All has been so confusing… if this is adventure, it’s a wonder any soul survives it long!”
(Two cats exchanged amused glances. The one that was Illistyl pointed at the other with a paw, then spread its paws questioningly, and put its head to one side suspiciously. The other nodded and traced a sigil in the dust with one paw, saw that Illistyl had seen and recognized it-her feline head nodded, satisfied-and hurriedly brushed it out of existence again. The two cats settled down at their ease together.)
“Well said” Narm agreed. “I have not the love of constant whirl and danger that Torm does, that’s one thing certain! Will we ever be able to relax and do just as we please, do you think?”
“I’d like to try,” Shandril said softly, her eyes very steady upon his, Narm nodded and took her in his arms again, face set and serious. “I would like that, too, yes,” was all he said. (Under the bed, the strange cat shook its head, rolled its eyes, and yawned soundlessly.)
When their lips parted again, after a time, Shandril pushed Narm away a little, and said, “So tell me the tale of your life. Who is this man I am to marry? A would-be spell-caster, yes, but why? And why do you love me?” (Four eyes rolled, beneath the bed.)
Narm looked at his lady, opened his mouth, and shut it again. “Ah.. I-gods, I know not why I love you! I can tell you things about you that I love, and how I feel, but as to why-the gods will it, perhaps. Will you accept that answer? Poor it may be, but it is honest, and no base flattery, 1 swear? He paced, agitated. “I promise you this,” he said finally, turning by the window, “that I will love you, and as I learn the whys, I will tell them to you. How’s that?”
“My lord,” Shandril answered him, eyes shining, “I am honored that you are so honest with me. Pray that we both remain so with each other, always. I approve, yes-now get on with your tale! I would know!” (Under the bed, two cats burst into soundless laughter.) Narm chuckled and nodded.
“Yes, I tarry. Know, then: I was born some twenty-two winters ago, in the far city of Silverymoon in the North. I don’t recall it; I was still not a winter old when my parents Journeyed to Triboar, and thence to Waterdeep, and-”
“You have seen great Waterdeep?” asked Shandril, awed. “Is it as they say, all bustle, and gold, and beautiful things from all Faerun in the streets?”
Narm shrugged. “It may well be so, but I cannot say. I was there but a week, and still not a year in measure, when my parents moved on. We moved about the Sword Coast North often, with the trade. My father was Hargun Tamaraith, called ‘the Tail,’ a trader. I think he had been a ranger, before he fell ill. He had the shaking-fever; he dealt in weapons and smith-work. My mother was Fythuera-Fyth, to myself and my sire-and her last name I never knew. They had been wed long before I was born. She played the harp and traded as my father’s equal. I know not if ever she had been an adventurer. They were good people.”