Amber and Blood - Margaret Weis [39]
Mina stuffed the artifacts into her pockets and then smiled at him.
“Your turn,” she said.
“For what?”
She waved her hand. “You came with me. You can pick out an artifact. Any one you want.”
Nightshade could see Basalt lying bloody on the floor and he could hear Caele’s shrieks of terror. Nightshade thrust his hands into his pockets.
“No. Thank you, though.”
“ ’Fraidy cat,” scoffed Mina.
Walking over to the altar of Majere, she picked up something shiny and held it out to Nightshade.
“Here,” she said. “You should have this.”
In her hand was a gold cloak pin in the shape of a grasshopper. Nightshade remembered the time he and Atta had been set upon by two of the Beloved, only to be saved by an army of grasshoppers. The cloak pin had rubies for eyes, and was so skillfully crafted it looked as if it could have jumped away at any moment. Nightshade was quite charmed with it, and he wanted it more than anything he’d ever wanted in his life. His hand quivered in its pocket.
“Are you sure Majere won’t mind if I take it?” he asked. “I wouldn’t want to do anything to make him mad.”
“I’m sure,” said Mina, and before Nightshade could protest, she fastened the pin onto his shirt.
Nightshade stiffened in fright, half-expecting the pin to fly up his nose or knock him on the head. The grasshopper sat quite tamely on his shirt. It seemed to Nightshade, as he marveled over it, that the red eyes winked at him.
“What does it do?” he asked.
“It’s a hopper, ninny,” said Mina. “What do you think it does?”
“Hop?” Nightshade ventured a guess.
“Yes,” she said, “and it will make you hop, too. As high and as far as you want to go.”
“Whoo, boy!” Nightshade breathed.
Rhys had not heard or seen anything. The dwarf howled and Caele swore and Atta barked and Rhys was oblivious. The only sound he heard was the voice of the god.
And then Rhys felt a hand tapping his shoulder and he raised his head. The voice of the god ceased.
“Mister Monk, I have my presents for Goldmoon,” Mina said, showing him the two objects. “We can go now.”
Rhys stood up. He had been kneeling on the floor a long time, seemingly, for his knees hurt and his legs were stiff. Looking about, he was astonished to see the two Black Robes lying on the floor—one trussed and shrieking, the other bloody and unconscious.
He looked to Nightshade for an explanation.
“They made the gods mad,” the kender replied.
Rhys was considerably mystified by this pronouncement, but before he could ask, Mina shouted impatiently that she was ready to leave.
“What do we do with weasel-face and furball?” Nightshade asked.
“Leave them here,” Mina said, glowering. “Seal them up inside to die. That will teach them a lesson.”
“We can’t do that!” Rhys said, shocked.
“Why not? They were going to kill us,” Mina returned.
Rhys looked down at Caele, bound up in the blessed rope, wriggling about on the floor. The half-elf’s fury warred with his fear. One moment he gnashed his teeth and snarled threats and the next he was whining to be saved. The other wizard, Basalt, had regained consciousness and moaned that his head hurt.
“I know how he feels,” Nightshade said with a glance at Mina. “She does have a point, Rhys. The weasel was going to kill you with a magic spell if whatever god that is with the rope hadn’t stopped him. We shouldn’t turn them loose.”
“I’m not going to leave anyone to die,” Rhys said sternly, in a tone that brooked no argument. “We can at least carry them out of here. You grab that end.”
“Ugh!” said Nightshade, wrinkling his nose as he picked up Caele’s bare feet. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m sorry there’s no more water in here.”
While Mina watched in disapproval, Rhys and Nightshade hauled first Caele, then Basalt, out of the Hall of Sacrilege and dumped the two wizards down onto the damp sand.
“Atta, guard!” said Rhys, pointing at the wizards.
“I don’t think that will be necessary.” Nightshade said in a low voice. “I think someone’s coming to fetch them.”