All Shadows Fled - Ed Greenwood [82]
Flames flared up right behind Malarnus, who heard the hiss and crackle, looked around with a frown, and jumped up with an oath. "Fire! Magic!" He spun around, eyes narrowing. "There's none here but y-"
He was, of course, too late. A tentacle whipped lash-like around his throat, jerked, and broke his neck. He joined Felus and Ornthar, who'd been distracted for one fatal moment by Malarnus's shout. All three lay broken on the ground.
"Take anything that looks magical," Amdramnar said. "We can discard things later. We'll ride two of their horses."
"And eat them later, too," Argast agreed, bending to the work of feverishly examining the camp.
They found three wands and an old cup… and that was all. If this Cult of the Dragon band carried heavy magic, it was in use beyond the ridge, where green smoke was drifting and the bright flashes of spells could still be seen.
Figures ran toward the ruined keep, now! Three… more… a dozen, but still small distant dots. Time to be gone.
"Come," Amdramnar snapped. He turned toward the nearest horse.
Argast hesitated for a moment, looking as if he was about to refuse and go his own way. Then he. peered back at the running men, shrugged, and followed.
Amdramnar frowned, and was not gentle with his horse.
"I'd guess he's taken with some scrying spell and we won't see him until dusk," the younger and louder of the two men said.
"Peering at wenches in the brothels of Ordulin, most likely," the older man grunted. He ran a finger down the script in a thick and dusty book.
"Turnold!" the third apprentice in the library said sharply. She scowled. "You know I don't like to hear talk like that!"
The older man sighed. He replied without bothering to look up from his book, "You've got to learn about human nature and the ways of the world sometime, Irendue. You must notice how he looks at you."
That's a private matter between the master and myself," was the even sharper response, "and no concern of yours!"
"Oh, I'm not concerned," Turnold said easily. "If I were in your place I would be, but he's not interested in me."
"For your information, Master Prentice Turnold, he's not interested in me in the manner you so crudely allude to, either!"
"Oh? And just when I thought I'd got right the scrying spell the master taught me ten years ago! I particularly like the black-and-gold gown, by the way…"
"You worm!" Irendue shrieked, leaping to her feet, her face white to the lips. "You utter… spying snake!"
"Oh, I was following the master's instructions… as was Lareth here. The master told us we might learn something…"
The door banged furiously as Irendue left, and Lareth, who'd blushed as red as his scarlet robe, coughed uneasily. "You shouldn't bait her like that. You know she'll just run to the master and there'll be trouble."
"We have to pay for our training," Turnold said calmly, "and pay dearly. She pays in another way. I don't mind that; I'd just like her to be honest about it and not play the prim and prissy high lady with us."
"Why should she be honest?" Lareth asked, amused. "She's training to be a mage, not a hermit priest!"
"I could probably tell you things about hermit priests," Turnold replied calmly, turning a page.
"My, you have been busy with that scrying spell," Lareth returned. He held the grimoire he'd been frowning at under Turnold's nose and pointed at a notation in one margin of a battle spell. "Oparl's hand, do you think?"
Turnold shook his head. "Too spidery. Jamryth's, for a gold lion."
"I'll not wager with you, Turnold," Lareth said ruefully. "You're too often right!"
"That has always been my trouble," Turnold agreed calmly, eyes on his own book again.
"Thirsty work, this," Lareth said. He set down his book and flipping its spine ribbon to mark the page with Jamryth's notes. "I'm for a flagon. Join me?"
"Plenty of time left to get drunk today," Turnold replied. "I'll be along later."
"Right," Lareth said