[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
something to work off your furieSj let it be the roast! The taproom is filling
up right quickly, and they'll all want to eat, I doubt not!" Gorstag tossed
the knife into the stone sink with a clatter and went out.
Lureene, seeing his face as he went behind the bar to draw ale, sighed. He
smiled all too seldom, now, since Shan-dril had run off. Perhaps the tales in
Highmoon all these years had been true: Shandril was Gorstag's daughter. He
had brought her with him as a babe when he bought the inn, Lureene was sure.
She shrugged. Ah well, perhaps someday he'd say.
Lureene remembered the hard-working, dreamy little girl snuggling down on the
straw the other side of the clothes-chest, and wondered where she was now. Not
so little, anymore, either . ..
"Ho, my pretty statue!" the carpenter Ulsinar called across the taproom.
"Wine! Wine for a man whose throat is raw with thirst and calling after you!
It is the gods who gave us drink will you keep me from my poor share of it?"
SPELLFIRE
Lureene chuckled and reached for the decanter she knew Ulsinar favored. "It is
patience the gods gave us, to cope when drink is not at hand," she returned in
jest. "Would you neglect the one in your haste to overindulge in the other?"
Other regulars nearby roared or nodded their approval
"A little patience!" one called. "A good motto for an overworked inn, eh?"
"I like it!" another said. "111 wait with good will and a full glass, if one
is to be had for Korvan's stuffed deer, or his roast boar!"
"Oh, aye!" another agreed. "He even makes the greens taste worth the eating!"
He fell silent, suddenly, as his wife turned a cold face upon him and
inquired, "And I do not?"
Ulsinar (and not a few other men) laughed. "Let's see you wriggle, Pardus!
You're truly in the wallow this time!"
"Wallow! Wallow!" others called enthusiastically. The wife turned an even
stonier face upon them all.
"Do you ridicule my man?" she inquired. "Would you all like your teeth
removed, all at once and soon?"
The roars died away. There were chuckles here and there. Gorstag strode over.
"Now, Yantra," he said with a perfectly straight face, "I can't have this sort
of trouble in The Rising Moon. Before I serve all these rude men who have
insulted you and your lord, will you have the deer or the boar?"
"The boar;' Yantra replied, mollified. "A half-portion for my husband."
Gorstag stared quickly around to quell the roars of mirth. The innkeeper
winked as he met the eye of Pardus, who, seated behind his wife, was silently
but frantically trying to indicate by gesture and exaggerated mouthing of
words that he wanted deer, not boar, and most certainly not a half-portion.
"Why, Pardus " Gorstag said, as if suddenly recalling something. "There's a
man left word here for any who makes saddles of quality that he'd like a
single piece, but a good one, for his favorite steed. I took the liberty of
recommending you, but did not presume to promise times or prices. He's from
Selgaunt and probably well on his way back there by now. Hell call by again in
a few days, on his way out from
EOGHEENWDOD
Ordulin to Cormyr. Will you talk with me, in the back, over what I should tell
him?" He winked again, only for an instant.
"Oh, aye," Pardus said, understanding. There was no Sem-bian saddle-coveter,
but he would get his half-portion of boar out here, in the taproom, and as
much deer as he wanted in the back, with Gorstag standing watchful guard, a
little later. He smiled. Good old Gorstag, he thought, raising his flagon to
the innkeeper. Long may he run The Rising Moon. Let it be long, indeed.
Late that night, when all at last were abed, and the taproom was red and dim
in the light of the dying fire, Gorstag sat alone. He raised the heavy tankard
and took another fiery swallow of dark, smoky-flavored wildroot stout. What
had become of Shandril? He was sick at heart at the thought of her lying dead
somewhere, or raped and robbed and left to starve by the roadside ... or
worse, lying in her own sweat and muck in slave-chains, in the creaking,
rat-infested hold of some southern slave-trader wallowing across the Inner
Sea. How much longer could he bear to stay here, without at least going to
look? His glance went to the axe over the bar. In an instant the burly
innkeeper was up from his seat the seat where unhappy Yantra had sat and over
a table in a heavy but fast vault. He soon stood behind the bar, the axe in
his hands.
There was a little scream from behind him a girl's cry! Gorstag whirled as if
he was a warrior half his age, snake-quick and expecting trouble. Then he
relaxed, slowly. "Lureene?" he asked quietly. He couldnt go they needed him
here, all these folk . . . oh, gods, bring her safe back!
His waitress saw the anguished set of his face in the firelight and came up to
him quietly, her blanket about her shoulders. "Master?" she asked softly.
"Gorstag? You miss her, don't you?"
The axe trembled. Abruptly it was swept up and hung in the crook of the old
innkeeper's arm, and he came around the bar with whetstone, oil-flask, and
rags with almost angry haste. "Aye, lass, I do."
SPELLFIHE
He sat down again where he'd been, and Lureene came on silent bare feet to sit
beside him as he worked, turning the axe in his fingers as if it weighed no
more than an empty mug. After a long minute of silence, he pushed the tankard
toward her. "Drink something, Lureene. It's good . . . you will be the better
for it."
Lureene sampled it, made a face, and then took another swallow. She set the
tankard down, two-handed, and pushed it back. "Perhaps if I live to be your
age," she said dryly, "I'll learn a taste for it. Perhaps."
Gorstag chuckled. The metal of the axe flashed in his hands as he turned it [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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something to work off your furieSj let it be the roast! The taproom is filling
up right quickly, and they'll all want to eat, I doubt not!" Gorstag tossed
the knife into the stone sink with a clatter and went out.
Lureene, seeing his face as he went behind the bar to draw ale, sighed. He
smiled all too seldom, now, since Shan-dril had run off. Perhaps the tales in
Highmoon all these years had been true: Shandril was Gorstag's daughter. He
had brought her with him as a babe when he bought the inn, Lureene was sure.
She shrugged. Ah well, perhaps someday he'd say.
Lureene remembered the hard-working, dreamy little girl snuggling down on the
straw the other side of the clothes-chest, and wondered where she was now. Not
so little, anymore, either . ..
"Ho, my pretty statue!" the carpenter Ulsinar called across the taproom.
"Wine! Wine for a man whose throat is raw with thirst and calling after you!
It is the gods who gave us drink will you keep me from my poor share of it?"
SPELLFIRE
Lureene chuckled and reached for the decanter she knew Ulsinar favored. "It is
patience the gods gave us, to cope when drink is not at hand," she returned in
jest. "Would you neglect the one in your haste to overindulge in the other?"
Other regulars nearby roared or nodded their approval
"A little patience!" one called. "A good motto for an overworked inn, eh?"
"I like it!" another said. "111 wait with good will and a full glass, if one
is to be had for Korvan's stuffed deer, or his roast boar!"
"Oh, aye!" another agreed. "He even makes the greens taste worth the eating!"
He fell silent, suddenly, as his wife turned a cold face upon him and
inquired, "And I do not?"
Ulsinar (and not a few other men) laughed. "Let's see you wriggle, Pardus!
You're truly in the wallow this time!"
"Wallow! Wallow!" others called enthusiastically. The wife turned an even
stonier face upon them all.
"Do you ridicule my man?" she inquired. "Would you all like your teeth
removed, all at once and soon?"
The roars died away. There were chuckles here and there. Gorstag strode over.
"Now, Yantra," he said with a perfectly straight face, "I can't have this sort
of trouble in The Rising Moon. Before I serve all these rude men who have
insulted you and your lord, will you have the deer or the boar?"
"The boar;' Yantra replied, mollified. "A half-portion for my husband."
Gorstag stared quickly around to quell the roars of mirth. The innkeeper
winked as he met the eye of Pardus, who, seated behind his wife, was silently
but frantically trying to indicate by gesture and exaggerated mouthing of
words that he wanted deer, not boar, and most certainly not a half-portion.
"Why, Pardus " Gorstag said, as if suddenly recalling something. "There's a
man left word here for any who makes saddles of quality that he'd like a
single piece, but a good one, for his favorite steed. I took the liberty of
recommending you, but did not presume to promise times or prices. He's from
Selgaunt and probably well on his way back there by now. Hell call by again in
a few days, on his way out from
EOGHEENWDOD
Ordulin to Cormyr. Will you talk with me, in the back, over what I should tell
him?" He winked again, only for an instant.
"Oh, aye," Pardus said, understanding. There was no Sem-bian saddle-coveter,
but he would get his half-portion of boar out here, in the taproom, and as
much deer as he wanted in the back, with Gorstag standing watchful guard, a
little later. He smiled. Good old Gorstag, he thought, raising his flagon to
the innkeeper. Long may he run The Rising Moon. Let it be long, indeed.
Late that night, when all at last were abed, and the taproom was red and dim
in the light of the dying fire, Gorstag sat alone. He raised the heavy tankard
and took another fiery swallow of dark, smoky-flavored wildroot stout. What
had become of Shandril? He was sick at heart at the thought of her lying dead
somewhere, or raped and robbed and left to starve by the roadside ... or
worse, lying in her own sweat and muck in slave-chains, in the creaking,
rat-infested hold of some southern slave-trader wallowing across the Inner
Sea. How much longer could he bear to stay here, without at least going to
look? His glance went to the axe over the bar. In an instant the burly
innkeeper was up from his seat the seat where unhappy Yantra had sat and over
a table in a heavy but fast vault. He soon stood behind the bar, the axe in
his hands.
There was a little scream from behind him a girl's cry! Gorstag whirled as if
he was a warrior half his age, snake-quick and expecting trouble. Then he
relaxed, slowly. "Lureene?" he asked quietly. He couldnt go they needed him
here, all these folk . . . oh, gods, bring her safe back!
His waitress saw the anguished set of his face in the firelight and came up to
him quietly, her blanket about her shoulders. "Master?" she asked softly.
"Gorstag? You miss her, don't you?"
The axe trembled. Abruptly it was swept up and hung in the crook of the old
innkeeper's arm, and he came around the bar with whetstone, oil-flask, and
rags with almost angry haste. "Aye, lass, I do."
SPELLFIHE
He sat down again where he'd been, and Lureene came on silent bare feet to sit
beside him as he worked, turning the axe in his fingers as if it weighed no
more than an empty mug. After a long minute of silence, he pushed the tankard
toward her. "Drink something, Lureene. It's good . . . you will be the better
for it."
Lureene sampled it, made a face, and then took another swallow. She set the
tankard down, two-handed, and pushed it back. "Perhaps if I live to be your
age," she said dryly, "I'll learn a taste for it. Perhaps."
Gorstag chuckled. The metal of the axe flashed in his hands as he turned it [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]