"And if I know you," said Ren, "it'll be about as pleasant-smelling as those orcs at Sokol Keep."
Shal was reminded of a question she'd been meaning to ask. "Do you two know what stones those creatures kept talking about?"
"Ioun stones," Tarl filled in the name.
"They're incredibly valuable, but I don't think most people understand why," Ren said as he sat on the mattress in the center of the room. "Tempest was killed over two ioun stones."
Shal sat down on the floor, and Tarl sat beside her.
Ren removed Right and Left from his boots. "These are ioun stones," he said, flipping the hilts open so they could plainly see the blue-black stone inside each handle. "If you hadn't started blasting everything in sight with your staff, Shal, I was going to pull one of these out and offer it to those goons. They probably would've killed us anyhow, but I might have been able to distract them long enough so you could get away."
"What's so special about-" Shal dropped her question and gazed in wonderment as the two dark stones floated from the hilts of the daggers and began to circle Ren's head, glowing a deep, iridescent midnight blue.
"Wow!" Shal and Tarl breathed in unison.
"What-what else can they do?" asked Shal.
"I don't know very much, really. I think it takes strong magic to take full advantage of their powers. For me, the ioun stones make the blades return at my command, and I never miss my mark. I guess they must add a measure of talent or strength to whoever's in control of them." Ren held the knives up by the blades and said "Return." The two stones immediately dropped into the open handles, and Ren flipped the hilts shut. "Tempest died over those two little rocks, and today the three of us almost died for them. I don't know what the head of the Assassins' Guild wanted them for, or what the Lord of the Ruins wants them for, but I think we'll all be better off if they don't get them."
"You were right to not give them up without a fight," Tarl said. "Who can say what evil forces would do with such stones? I vow, as Tyr is my witness, to aid you to the best of my abilities should you be threatened again."
"And I, too," said Shal. "as Selune is my witness. But I have a mission of my own, and I'm anxious to get on with it."
"To avenge the death of your teacher?" Tarl asked.
Shal nodded. "And after a good night's rest, that is precisely what I plan to do."
"You know you can count on our help," said Tarl, speaking for Ren as well as himself.
Shal looked at Tarl and then at Ren. Before Tarl had even said anything, she knew they would stand behind her. At every encounter on Thorn Island, she had been aware that their first thought was always to protect her first, even though with her new strength she was probably as strong as Tarl, if not Ren. Since adolescence, Shal had taken pride in her looks above all else. Now her appearance was the antithesis of what she had always believed attractive, yet two thoughtful, considerate, handsome men were quite obviously vying for her attention. They admired her magic abilities and praised her newfound fighting skills, they sought her opinion despite her inexperience in countless other areas, and they certainly did not seem to be put off by her muscular body. "Thank you," she said simply, reaching her hands out to hold each of theirs. "I've… I've never had such friends."
Shal related what she knew of the location of Denlor's tower and the murder of her master. She described the wretched helplessness she had felt watching his murder and being unable to communicate through the crystal. Tarl squeezed one of Shal's hands and Ren squeezed the other as each thought of the death he had witnessed and been unable to prevent.
Using water from Ren's canteen and a combination of herbs and tar from his pouches, Tarl made the poultice he had promised for Ren. It was effective, but offensively smelly as promised, and he and Shal made their way quickly from the room once it was applied, but not before the three of them had agreed to meet at noon, after a good night's rest, for the trip to Denlor's tower.
After seeing Shal to her room, Tarl returned to the temple. Before he could get to Anton's bedside, the brothers from the temple had flocked around him. Rumors of a sunlit Thorn Island had already reached the temple, and they were anxious to hear of Tarl's experiences there. Since all the brothers had arrived in Phlan only since the rebuilding of the new temple began, no one had known that the fortress contained a Tyrian temple. They were momentarily speechless when Tarl presented the sacred scale, and they actually clapped when he told them of the laying to rest of the tormented souls of their brothers at Sokol Keep. Tarl warmed at the praise; he had never felt so strong in his faith as he had when he faced the skeletons and convinced the spectral Brother Martinez that he could finally be at rest. Several of the brothers made plans to journey to the island the next day to pray for the peace of their brothers and to be sure that any artifacts that remained were put to good use.
Tarl finally took his leave as the others talked on into the night. He found Anton, writhing and calling out, awash in torment. Tarl no longer could feel any joy for having recovered the silver balance. As he stood there watching his friend suffer, he renewed his commitment to retrieve the Hammer of Tyr and restore it to its rightful place at the altar in the temple of Tyr.
He fought back the pain that surged through his own body as he laid his hands on Anton's shoulders. He held on until he dropped to the floor, overcome by his brother's agony, and there he slept.
Shal was surprised to find a package on her bed. It was a soft bundle, bound in white cotton by black string. She realized from the stamp on the cotton that the package was from the seamstress who had made her leathers. Curious, she slipped off the string and unfolded the cotton. Inside was a delicate silk nightgown. Shal laughed with unabashed delight. She was about to hold the garment up to herself to check the fit, but she stopped before touching it. She was filthy with blood, mud, dirt, and other stains she didn't even want to think about.
Quickly she pulled off the filthy black leathers, first the tunic and then the belt and leggings. Sot had left a sponge and a tub of water waiting for her, and the water was still warm. She left the leathers in a heap beside the bed, climbed into the tub, and scrubbed herself clean. After patting herself dry with a towel from the room's small bureau, she reached for the sensuous mulberry-colored garment and slipped it over her head. She turned apprehensively to face the long mirror on the door. The nightgown was as feminine a garment as any she had ever owned, carefully tailored to accentuate the curves of her ample form. Shal removed the clasp from her hair and shook her auburn tresses loose over her shoulders. Her gaze never left the mirror as she combed her long hair. The woman returning her stare in the mirror was at least an acquaintance now, no longer a complete stranger. She could use a whole new set of adjectives to describe herself now: powerful rather than petite, firm rather than willowy, buxom rather than diminutive-but she was every bit as much a woman. In fact, she realized with a shock, she was attractive in a way she had not previously appreciated.
Shal made a note to herself to send the seamstress flowers for her thoughtfulness. She had even remembered that Shal had mentioned purple was her favorite color. In the morning, Shal would brush the beautiful chimera leathers clean, but right now she wanted to luxuriate in the sensation of sleeping between clean sheets in a soft, feminine new nightgown. She bolted the door and secured the heavy wooden hatch that fit over the window opening, and then snuffed the flames of the room's two lanterns before climbing into bed.
Surprisingly, sleep did not come quickly. When it did, Shal was plagued by visions of Ranthor pawing and clawing to get out of the crystal ball. "You should have warned me he was coming!" he shouted.
"But I couldn't!" Shal shouted back. "I didn't know how!"
"You should have known. You should have figured it out! Now, I walk the night like the skeletons you faced today! Aaaauuuggghhh!"
Once more the shadowy figure loomed behind Ranthor. He struggled even harder to escape the confines of the ball, but the dagger stabbed out again and again. With th
e coiled snake insignia on the attacker's armband, it gave the doubly frightening impression of a snake striking repeatedly. The pounding of Ranthor's fists against the crystal thundered in Shal's ears, until finally silence exploded around her as his body slumped and slid down the inside of the globe like a discarded piece of clothing.
She woke to the feel of her own body flopping back and forth through no force of its own. She could feel sweat streaming down her front and back.
It was Sot who was shaking her shoulders. "I don't make a habit of entering the rooms of my guests when they're inside 'em," he explained hurriedly, "but I heard you scream, and I ran up here to see what was wrong. I pounded on the door, but you just kept screamin'."
Shal shook herself to clear her head of the nightmare. It was bitterly real. She was sure her master was still suffering, tormented like those skeletons at Sokol Keep, and it was her fault. She wanted to leave immediately for Denlor's tower, but Sot managed to quiet her down enough to convince her that she should at least wait till first light. He insisted she take several large gulps of his own house liquor. It was a powerful brew that burned all the way down with each swallow…
Shal slept till well after dawn, and there were no more nightmares. It was the grumblings of her familiar that finally woke her…. I might as well spend my time in a stable. At least I'd have oats and hay to keep me company, were the first words she actually comprehended. Each syllable seemed to echo in her brain like the clanging of a gong.
"Quiet!" Shal hissed, closing her eyes tighter.
I'm not making any noise, Mistress, retorted the familiar. To Shal, it sounded like the crash of thunder.
"Will you please shut up?" Shal shouted, then she clasped her hands to her ears to muffle the sound of her own voice.
Pardon me, but weren't you planning to go to Denlor's tower today to try to find our mast-uh, Ranthor's murderer?
Shal sat up slowly and tried through tightly squinted eyelids to see where she had left the belt with the indigo cloth. Maybe if she covered it with a pillow, the familiar's voice would be quieter inside her head. Better yet, maybe she wouldn't be able to hear it at all. But she saw neither the belt nor the cloth; instead, a horse was standing directly in her way.
Comprehension came slowly, and Shal did her best to ignore the monstrous animal as she got up to splash water on her face and prepare to face the sunshine she could see trying to sneak through the closed window hatch.
"Yes, I'm planning to go to Denlor's tower today," she finally answered. "And this will be your chance to show that you're good for something besides making wisecracks."
That's not fair! The horse stomped and whuffled agitatedly. You would have been nothing but orc fodder yesterday if I hadn't reminded you about the Staff of Power.
"You'll be orc fodder if you don't give me a chance to wake up in peace!"
Hmph! The very idea!…
"There's a deep, dark pocket just waiting for you, Cerulean."
Is that an order, Mistress?
"It will be if you don't get out of my brain-now!"
The horse hung its head and retreated to a corner of the room.
"And please, Cerulean, don't sulk! It doesn't become you at all."
The big horse lifted its head and switched its tail. Switch. Switch. Switch. He whickered quietly as he eyed the ceiling and pawed the floor gently. Not a whisper of mental communication jarred Shal's throbbing head as she carefully brushed her leathers and then took time to meditate and memorize her spells.
Much later, she ordered Cerulean into one of the pockets and took him out to the stable, where she let him out again and fed him apples and carrots. Finally she began to brush his coat to a high sheen. "How well did you know Ranthor, Cerulean?" Shal asked, electing to speak aloud as long as she was alone in the stable, except for a half dozen or so other horses.
How well do you know anyone? He summoned me when he was an apprentice-younger than you, even. I used to help him memorize his spells. I begged him to take me along to the tower of the red mage, but he could be a stubborn old goat. I'll bet now he wishes he had listened to me.
Shal laughed. "I'm sure if he wishes anything, he wishes he had taken you."
The horse stamped and shook its mane, obviously pleased by her apparently improving spirits.
"Cerulean, what do you know about the Wand of Wonder? Ranthor didn't tell me much. I suppose you know what he said."
He got the wand as a gift some time ago, Cerulean answered. I don't keep track of years, but he was much younger then. Still danced regularly-
"Danced? Ranthor?" Shal looked dubious, with one eyebrow raised in surprise.
He loved to dance. Never went anywhere in those days without a woman on each arm. But as I was saying, he got the wand as a gift. Used it three times, as I remember.
The first time, he was deep in the Deadwood Forest, hunting secil. It's a rare fungus he needed for a spell component. He was in quite a huff that day-swore I was stepping on every mushroom in sight-and he finally insisted I keep a good distance away from where he was working. Working-ha! Scrounging around on his hands and knees like some pauper, brushing dust into a bag. I, on the other hand, was exploring the area with dignity when I found the clump of secil. Did I step on it? No. I-
"The wand, Cerulean. What does this have to do with the Wand of Wonder?"
I was just getting to that, Mistress. Must you be so impatient? Anyhow, I didn't step on it. I quite understandably happened to miss seeing another clump of insignificant fungus. It was brown, and spores puffed up everywhere when I stepped on it. The air was thick with the stuff, and it didn't feel at all healthy. I could hardly breathe, and as far away as I was from Ranthor, he was still affected. He coughed and coughed, doubled over so bad he couldn't even catch his breath to cast one of his spells. Finally he just pulled out the wand and managed to mutter a word or two.
"And?"
And all of a sudden bubbles started floating up everywhere-sticky ones that splattered icy water when they burst. The spores didn't stand a chance. The ones that didn't stick to the bubbles were doused to the ground when they burst, and the magical cold killed the fungus.
Naturally, Ranthor got his secil in the end, and he was quite pleased with the wand.
"You said you remember three times. What about the other two?" Shal asked.
The second time was just as successful. He was trapped between an umber hulk and a dragon-horrible things, umber hulks; look like giant beetles that walk upright. Anyway, one of his hands was hurt-Ranthor's hands, I mean-so he couldn't cast a spell, and that was before he had the Staff of Power. When he used the Wand of Wonder, the dragon suddenly sprouted huge worms all over its body. Well, the umber hulk simply went wild, what with worms being its preferred diet. It tore right past Ranthor and me and started attacking the dragon with its big pincers. Needless to say, we beat a hasty retreat.
"So why did Ranthor worry so much about using the wand?"
As I said, there was a third time. I was galloping with godspeed, with a foul wizard, one of Ranthor's most powerful foes, chasing us on one of those flying carpets. Instead of just asking me to go faster, Ranthor whips out the wand, points it at the wizard and says, 'Turtle speed.' Before I could blink, I was the only thing going turtle speed, and the wizard was zooming by overhead. If there hadn't been a tree in her way, we'd have been dead.
"Huh?" Shal waited for an explanation.
I slowed down so fast she overshot us. She tried to turn, but the carpet was still going at full speed, and she slammed into a tree. Wonderful old tree. Burned to a crisp when her acid blood spilled all over it and ignited the thing. Of course, the wizard went up-poof! — right along with it.
"Then that was still a positive effect, wasn't it? So why should I worry about using the wand?"
As I said, Mistress, I was the one going turtle speed. Ranthor pitched over my head and flew almost as far as the other wizard. He swore that was when his rheumatism set in.
"Oh." Sh
al couldn't help but wonder if the wand wouldn't be less dangerous if Ranthor had a different familiar.
I resent that!
"Sorry." Shal hadn't meant for Cerulean to "hear" that. She tried to change the subject. "Are you ready to go?"
"You're asking the horse?" Ren had entered unnoticed and stood within a few feet of Shal. She almost fell into the feed trough at the sound of his voice.
"How did you get in here without my hearing you?" she demanded.
He reached for her hand and pulled her gently away from the feed trough and the dung gutter. "I didn't mean to startle you. I was just practicing my thieving skills. They've gotten a little rusty in the last year."
"It seems to me they work just fine," Shal said, a little defensively. "I guess I was concentrating on what I have to do today."
"It could be tougher than you think to get into Denlor's tower," Ren said. "I went there to scout it last night, and the place is a regular fortress of magical traps. Even most of the creatures that gather outside the walls at night seem to be kept at bay by some force."
"What do you mean, you went there last night?" Shal's green eyes blazed, and she pushed Ren's hand away. "You were supposed to get some rest so you'd be fresh for today."
"Could you have slept with that stinking poultice on? I laid there till the stars came out, and then I got up and scrubbed myself with salts and lye and anything I could think of until I finally got rid of that stench. I couldn't go anywhere undetected smelling like that. And I sure couldn't hope to get very close to you."
Shal blushed and turned to continue currying the horse. "Your girl friend… Tempest… must have been very special."
Ren cocked his head, surprised that Shal would bring up the subject of Tempest.
Shal answered his unspoken question. "I know you're only attracted to me because I remind you of her."
Ren swallowed hard and was about to say something when Tarl entered the stable. He quickly took a step away from Shal.
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