A Dragon's Ascension - Ed Greenwood [20]
Sarasper glared at her, then sheathed the dagger he'd drained all magic from to heal her with an angry flourish.
"It's not that simple, Embra," he snapped. " 'The gods meant me to do this, so I will.' D'you know how dangerous such words are? How crazed those who spout them become, and the damage they do? The gods don't announce neat little destinies for us, lass. It's never that simple."
"Easy, Sass, easy," Craer murmured. "Yet your point is a good one. Bard, let the telling stand that Embra lives, she needs her Dwaer back-and the rest of us are ice-cold certain that we'll all be dead in short order without it… at about the time we encounter our next unfriendly wizard."
Ere Raulin could reply, the procurer turned to look at him directly, and added, "Well, here's where we'd best part w-"
"Nay," Hawkril said firmly. "Even if it was not truly throwing the lad to the wolves, to leave him go his own way from here, I say he bides with us. I said before: every hand that strikes for Aglirta must be made welcome-or how shall the land ever be more than self-interested, warring families and cabals and handfuls of swordbrothers? What if there were a hand-count more foursomes of angry sorceresses flitting about the realm seeking to work avenging murder on real-or imagined-foes?"
Sarasper sighed. "Raulin Castlecloaks. Valiant, willing, of good character-and one more body for me to try to heal," he told his hands, looking down at the dried blood all over them. Most of it was Hawkril's, but a little was Embra's and some his own. "One more life for us to throw away in our little adventures."
The healer looked up sharply, and added, "Lad, if you come with us, you're a fool. Swift death is your most likely fate, and the gods will probably bestow it sooner rather than later-with our blundering help."
"I say Raulin has proved his usefulness to us and to Aglirta before, and has every right to stand in danger with us-or be more prudent, and go elsewhere-if he chooses," Embra said. "We're not speaking of someone who hasn't ridden with us before, and doesn't know the danger, or hasn't already shown he can handle it. The choice should be his."
Craer looked at Sarasper, and they exchanged shrugs.
"Lady," the procurer said, turning back to the sorceress, "we abide by your counsel-if only to spare our ears all the things you're sure to say, and say again, many times over in the days ahead, if we do not."
Embra smiled sweetly. "Ah, we understand each other clearly at last." She glanced at Raulin. "Still want to journey with us? We play tongues-as-daggers all the time."
"I do," the young bard said firmly.
"Well enough," Craer told Raulin briskly. Pointing at the bodies all around, he added, "Daggers. Fetch me a score-bundle 'em in a cloak someone doesn't need anymore. Use another cloak to carry any decent boots you see; they're worth good coin. Then-"
"Craer!" Embra snorted. "We've gained an ally, not a pack-mule!"
The procurer turned to her with wide eyes and spread hands. "What, Lady Baron Overduke? Is this collecting not exactly what I'd be doing, were Raulin not with us? Hmm?"
Despite the high sun beating upon the road where an increasingly white-faced youth gingerly plucked daggers from sheaths-and then collected those sheaths, and the belts that went with them, too, under the harsh tongue and helping hands of Overduke Delnbone-two bats clung, awake and aware, to the same tree limb.
Intently they watched and listened to the humans below. When at last those five set off along the road, still trading jests and barbed comments, the bats looked at each other and rose into flight. One swooped after the departing humans, and the other flapped purposefully in another direction, flitting low amid the trees.
Craer was wont to suddenly turn and look back when out walking-several times-but the bat following the Four-plus-Raulin took care to duck behind leaves and follow unseen.
Nor did the alert