by Ed Greenwood
The filled kettle drifted back toward the fire, and Syluné added briskly, “You can put away your steel and get me cups for six, Shaerl. There’s nothing out and ready to carve up yet.”
“Six?” the Lady of Shadowdale asked slowly, sliding her sword back into its sheath. “But—”
The end of the table she was facing glimmered suddenly, and Syluné said, “Ah, they’re here—commendably swift of them!”
The glimmering became a flash that died away to reveal a smiling, barefoot couple whose robes and hair were somewhat in disarray. The Simbul and Elminster nodded and smiled at the dumbfounded Shaerl and strode across the room to embrace Storm and Maxer.
The kitchen was suddenly a happy chaos of sobbing, laughing, and hugging folk. Shaerl stepped back and shook her head with a smile. She’d never get used to instant magical comings and goings, not if she lived to see two hundred winters or more!
A sudden aura of light surrounded Maxer’s head, and he stiffened in Elminster’s embrace. Storm turned quickly in the Simbul’s arms to see what had befallen—and saw an identical aura gathering in the air about her.
“What—?” she began, and then fell silent as Maxer gave her both a rueful smile and a nod of reassurance.
“Sorry, lad,” Elminster said gruffly, releasing Storm’s beloved, “but we had to be sure.”
“Of course,” Maxer replied—as Storm felt the first swift darting of her sister’s probe in her mind. She stiffened just as Maxer had, and then took a deep breath, forced herself to relax, and let the Simbul do her work.
“Sorry, Sister,” the Queen of Aglarond said quietly, a moment later, releasing her.
“Acceptable, am I?” Storm asked teasingly, suddenly very weary. “Does that mean I can have tea?”
The Simbul smiled a little sadly, hearing the edge in Storm’s voice, and impulsively hugged her sister from behind. Storm stiffened again, in astonishment this time; the Simbul never did such things.
“Mystra save us all,” said the Queen of Aglarond fondly, “of course you can. Sit down, and cut some pie, and I’ll just float those scones out. El?”
“Momentarily, m’dear,” the Old Mage replied airily. “Ah … now.” The glimmering at the end of the table began again.
This time the flashing magic brought three obviously startled arrivals: Ergluth Rowanmantle, still holding a bandage roll that he’d been wrapping his arm with; the worried-looking war wizard Broglan; and in his arms, smiling shyly, the Lady Shayna Summerstar.
All three blinked at the cheerful old stone kitchen around them, and Elminster gravely introduced it with a wave of his hand: “The farmhouse of Storm Silverhand, in Shadowdale.”
Then the Old Mage staggered sideways, nearly bowled over in the Lady Shaerl’s rush. “Ergluth!” she cried, leaping into the arms of her kinsman. “Oh, I’ve missed you! How’s Cormyr these days, and the family? And when did you put on so much weight? However did you man—”
Ergluth Rowanmantle barked just two words over her head at Elminster: “Wine,” and then, a few moments later, and a trifle more mournfully, “Help.”
That was when Syluné, a spectral head floating above the table and trailing a long fall of hair, transported in the feast. Humming happily, she looked this way and that, and steaming platters began to appear by the dozens around her, on every horizontal surface save the floor, which was reserved for the arriving kegs.
Broglan and Shayna stared around in absolute amazement—and then stiffened in unison as auras of light came into being around them both. A third enveloped Ergluth as the boldshield wheeled around to stare at the sudden radiance.
“Right,” the Simbul announced emphatically, “everything seems safe—let the revel begin!”
* * * * *
In the wee, blue hours before dawn, when all the chatter and lights and revelry and those who’d partaken were gone again, three heads bobbed above the cool waters of the stream in the woods below the farmhouse.
One head floated above the water, surveying the other two critically. Syluné said, “There’s a spell I think will suit you two just fine.…”
Maxer sighed. “If you don’t mind,” he said carefully, “I’ve had more than enough experience with magic these last few years—” He stopped speaking as the spectral head softly faded away.
“Oh,” a ghostly voice said by his ear, just before he felt the soft touch of invisible lips, “this isn’t that kind of magic.”
“Syluné,” Storm asked warningly, “what’re you up to?”
“I just don’t think you’ll want to climb all the way back up to the loft, to find a bed—especially as Sir Broglan and Lady Shayna already seem to be using it. Will you want tea tomorrow, say around highsun?”
“Syluné!” Storm protested, laughter bubbling in her voice. “What’re you up t—”
And then she fell silent, knowing she and Maxer were alone.
A moment later the spell took hold. They found themselves rising out of the water, as warm as if they’d been quite dry, and floating just above the gently tinkling waters. Maxer rolled over and lay on empty air, raising himself on one elbow to look at his beloved.
“Lady Storm,” he said, admiring her frankly, “I like your sister’s spells … but I’ll take you over her any night.”
“Why don’t you do just that?” Storm asked, setting aside all her cares at last as she drifted gently through the moonlit air into his arms.
In the east, one more dawn was just beginning to creep into Shadowdale, but neither of them noticed it.
Welcome to the FORGOTTEN REALMS®, the largest and most detailed of TSR’s fantasy worlds.
Look out from the high walls of Waterdeep, the sprawling, cosmopolitan City of Splendors. Beyond lies the Savage Frontier: the rugged mountains and endless forests of the Sword Coast, wilderlands that cloak the crumbling ruins of fallen kingdoms.
Travel with the caravans that cross these dangerous lands, heading east toward the kingdom of Cormyr, fabled realm of ancient forests, land of chivalry and romance. Stop over in the Dalelands, home of the crusty old wizard Elminster and the birthplace of many heroes and heroines. Then continue onward to distant Thay … and beyond.
In your travels, you will encounter many folk from highborn to low. Among the beautiful and deadly Seven Sisters are Storm Silverhand, the silver-haired Bard of Shadowdale, and High Lady Alustriel, the gentle and just ruler of Silverymoon. A third sister is the Simbul, fey and wild-tempered Witch-Queen of Aglarond. There are four more sisters, each beautiful and powerful in her own way.
If you meet them on the road, do not meddle with the mysterious Harpers, who work to uphold freedom and the causes of good throughout the Realms. You may, however, share a drink with the eccentric explorer Volo, and pick his brain for a wealth of information about your next destination. Beware that sinister-looking fellow in the corner of the common room. He may be a Zhentarim agent, gathering information for a takeover of the Heartlands.
Should the surface world not prove exciting enough for you, make your way beneath Mount Waterdeep to traverse the miles upon miles of tunnels and caverns known as Undermountain—but beware its deadly traps and skulking monsters. If you survive these hazards, press on to the subterranean city of Menzoberranzan, home of the deadly drow and birthplace of the renegade Drizzt Do’Urden.
When you return to the light of the surface world, you may want to explore the crumbling ruins of Myth Drannor, a storehouse of lost magic and deadly monsters in the heart of the vast Elven Court forest.
From the dangerous sewers and back alleys of sprawling cities, to glaciers, deserts, jungles, and uncharted seas (above and below the surface!), there’s a whole world to explore in the lands of the Forgotten Realms.
If you enjoyed this book and would like to know more about the Harpers, be sure to read Elfshadow, Elfsong, and Silver Shadows, all by Elaine Cunningham.
Harpers are being murdered, and all signs point to the half-elf adventurer Arilyn Moonblade. Tormented by drea
ms and stalked by shadows, Arilyn must look to the past to discover the truth about herself and the magical elven sword she carries. Is she truly a murderer, or is she about to become a victim?
(ISBN 1-56076-117-2)
When a mysterious spell falls over the bards of Waterdeep, rewriting both their music and their memories, archmage Khelben Blackstaff Arunsun fears the spell may be part of a larger plot. He calls on Danilo Thann, Harper mage and would-be bard, to confront the green dragon that holds the key to the mystery.
(ISBN 1-56076-679-4)
Arilyn Moonblade has always feared the elfshadow, the essence of her sword’s magic. When she learns the terrible truth behind her inherited moonblade, she vows to find a way to escape her fate. Posing as a moonelf warrior, Arilyn is drawn into the world of the wild elves.
(ISBN 0-7869-0498-4)
About the Author
Ed Greenwood is the creator of the FORGOTTEN REALMS® fantasy world, which became the setting for his home D&D® game in 1975. Play still continues in this long-running campaign, and Ed also keeps busy producing Realmslore for various TSR publications.
Ed has published over 200 articles in DRAGON® magazine and POLYHEDRON® newszine, is a lifetime charter member of the ROLE PLAYING GAME ASSOCIATION™ (RPGA®) network, has written over thirty books and modules for TSR, and has been GEN CON® game fair guest of honor several times.
In addition to all these activities, Ed works as a library clerk and has edited over a dozen small-press magazines. When not appearing at conventions, he lives in an old farmhouse in the countryside of Ontario.
FORGOTTEN REALMS, D&D, DRAGON, POLYHEDRON, RPGA, TSR, Inc. and GEN CON are registered trademarks owned by Wizards of the Coast LLC. ROLE PLAYING GAME ASSOCIATION is a trademark owned by Wizards of the Coast LLC
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