A Dragon's Ascension - Ed Greenwood [67]
"It's a better life than some lead," Hawkril replied meaningfully, watching a Melted shamble along a passage towards them. It did not appear to see them, even when Hawkril waved his warsword in front of it, and stumbled past as they exchanged wary glances.
"Perhaps someone already took care of the wizard for us," Craer murmured.
"I don't like this," Hawkril growled. "Back to the boat-Em will know best."
"Doesn't she always?"
Hawkril gave his friend a dark look, but made no reply.
Raulin turned his head away, wincing, his hand so tight around the hilt of the blade in the baron's guts that it was going numb already.
"Just pull it straight out, lad," Sarasper said. "Whatever you do, don't twist-just pluck it straight out, hmm?"
Raulin clenched his teeth. "I'm going to… be… sick again…"
"Here, let me," said a crisp voice at his shoulder. Raulin blinked at the Lady Embra, and she gave him a small, quick smile, ran a finger along the line of his jaw that did anything but soothe him as she'd intended, and firmly removed his fingers from the hilt of the sword.
"Now, Em," Sarasper said, looking up from the glow of magic between his hands. The Lady Silvertree leaned over Raulin, bosom brushing against him so that he blushed and swallowed again-and tugged the blade forth, straight and swift.
Her hand stabbed in at where it had been almost as swiftly. Blood was spurting everywhere, and Raulin cringed away until he saw with shame that lines of gore had splashed across Embra's face and breast, and left Sarasper's intent face a dripping mask of blood, and neither of them had so much as flinched.
"A bad one," Sarasper murmured, the glow flickering between his fingers. "Yes… a bad one."
Embra reached out her other hand and laid it on one of the old healer's hairy forearms. For an instant, something flashed between them, something Raulin almost saw… and the air tingled. Magic, strong magic…
Glarsimber jerked, under them, snarling and clawing blindly at the air… and then fell limp again, and groaned.
"Oh, gods," he cursed. "Three Above, that was almost my dooms-word… or was it? Am I-?"
"Alive, I'm afraid," Sarasper chuckled. "With flagons still to drain, and ladies still to… ah…"
"Still to kiss," Embra said gleefully, bending to Glarsimber's astonished lips.
The baron's eyes flashed, under her-and he gave Raulin a wink, an instant later, ere the Lady of Jewels released him to gasp for breath delightedly.
"My," he purred, "that was almost worth carrying a cold sword through my guts for most of an eternity…"
"Almost," Sarasper agreed dryly. "Almost."
"Either he's dead or he's delighted," Craer said, as they pounded back down the steps to the dock. "She's kissing him."
"Stop your teasing? Hawkril snarled. "It's like the little lasses giggling and teasing, when I was a brat-except that your tongue never stops, but them at least I could make howl!"
"Oh, you could probably make me howl if you handed me gems enough," Craer replied.
"Aye, a heap of sparkling stones higher than a wagon," the armaragor snorted. "Forgive me if better uses for such a hoard-assuming I could ever find so many gems in all Darsar-spring to mind."
"Making Embra howl? I think if we burned all her gowns, we'd find she has that many stones already."
"That many and more," Embra replied, looking up from the boat. "I'd trade them all, right now, for my Dwaer back!"
"So would I," Hawkril growled. "There's got to be a wizard up there-the place is crawling with Melted, stumbling around unseeing."
Embra's eyes narrowed. "As if something has happened to whoever was commanding them." She sighed, tried to wipe blood off her face and rearranged it into a big smear instead, and said grimly, "Let's to work, then. Glar, can you stand?"
"I'd rather go right on lying here with you on top of me, actually," the baron told her in tones of mock innocence.
" Up, Baron of the Realm," she told him crisply. "We'll be needing you to die far more spectacularly than in the situation you describe."
Craer