A Dragon's Ascension - Ed Greenwood [19]
The bard gasped as a blue glow began along the edge of its gleaming blade, kindling swiftly to blue-white fire. Sarasper turned it slowly, murmuring, "So may all slaying magic pass."
The old healer's hands trembled… as the blue-white glow crept slowly down from the blade to his wrinkled hands, his arm, across his chest to his other arm… and then down the spread fingers of his other hand, to Embra's throat.
As Raulin watched, entranced, he saw that beautiful flesh rise in a deep breath. Sarasper held his hand steady, the raised blade now dark and lifeless, and Embra swallowed under the healer's touch. Slowly, those wrinkled fingers trailed up to her chin and touched her lips.
Her eyelids fluttered immediately, she moaned softly-and opened her eyes and blinked at him. "Again, Sass?" she asked quietly. "How many times have you put me back together again, now?"
"Less man I have these two gown-stealing dolts of yours," the old man growled loudly. "They've even arranged a replacement for you."
He jerked his head towards Raulin, who smiled nervously at Embra, bowed, and said formally, "My day is brightened by our meeting, fair Lady Overduke-uh, Lady Baron Silvertree."
As his formal words stumbled in confusion over what Embra was now properly called, the Lady of Jewels grinned remarkably like Hawkril, and replied, "I am honored by your regard, Bard Castlecloaks. Call me Embra-only please, not 'Em.' " She cast glances at the rest of the Four, and added, "Listening, gentlesirs? A little courtesy never comes amiss."
Craer launched himself into a fluted parody of a deep, elaborate court bow, and lisped in affected tones, "Good my rathant Lady, I deeply regret my past and utterly misguided attempt to lighten thy wardrobe, but am forever grateful that the Watching Gods above saw to it that this my dastardly failing brought us two into close harmony and the courteous bindings of friendship!" Straightening, he added in his normal voice, "To which I can't help but add that in my professional opinion, it will be brilliant policy if we move on from this place before any more wizards-or archers-make an appearance."
"Aye," Hawkril agreed quickly. "We should move, if only to give the wolves and wild dogs more sport in trailing us."
"Sport? They'll have to drag themselves along our trail on their bellies if they devour all of these bowmen first," Sarasper commented.
Craer and Hawkril shook their heads in unison. "Nay," the armaragor explained grimly, "to the fanged foragers of the Vale, battle dead are sure meals, and lures to bring curious creatures hence, to be slain and made yet more fare. Our tracks, away from this place, will be followed first."
"Always expand the larder," Craer added. "We must get moving!"
"Where?" Embra asked, rising from the crushed ferns to stretch-and promptly wince, sway, and let Sarasper steady her. Pale, she sat gracefully down again, waved away Hawkril's anxious hand, and added, "Men in Aglirta seem to set great stock in rushing places, waving swords and yelling as they go-but I, being a lazy, pampered noble thing, always like to know where I'm bound, and for what reason such haste is necessary, before I commence shouting and hastening."
"A destination stands ready in your mind, I can see," Hawkril said quietly, staring at her. "Where and why?"
Embra shrugged. "My Dwaer is gone. I'm sure you'll tell me how and who took it, but leave that for later. The echoes of recently spun spells are so strong around us here that it's like having men shouting different battle cries into my ears whilst standing shoulder-to-shoulder in some small robing room. Let's get ourselves to Flowfoam. There, bolstered by Bla-by my father's two Dwaer, and by more of my precious family dancing inkwells and singing jewel boxes, I can try some elaborate magics to trace my Dwaer-Stone."
She rose again, took two careful paces along the road, turned, stepped delicately over a sprawled body, and blurted, "I feel-naked without it. As if it's