Amber and Iron - Margaret Weis [115]
Nightshade raised his arms and his voice and shouted. “Does this make any kind of sense to you, Majere?”
He fell silent, giving the god time to respond.
Nightshade heard sea gulls squabbling over a dead fish, waves crashing on the shore, and the wind making the dead grass crackle. None of this sounded to him like the voice of a god.
Nightshade heaved a sigh. “I guess I could offer you something to make this worth your while. I could offer to become one of your faithful, but—to be honest—that would be a lie. I like being a nightstalker. I like helping dead souls find their way off this world if that’s what they want, and I like keeping them company if they’d rather stay. I like the feeling I get when I cast one of my mystical spells and the spirit of the earth creeps into me and wells up inside my heart and spills out into my fingertips, and my hands go all tingly and I—me, a kender—can make big, huge minotaur keel over.
“So I guess I can’t bargain with you, and you know what, Majere, I don’t think people should have to bargain with gods. Why? Because you are a god and because you’re great, wonderful and powerful, and because I’m just a kender, and Atta’s just a dog, and Rhys is just a man, and we need you. So send me those six monks and be snappy about it.”
Nightshade lowered his arms, heaved a tremulous sigh and waited expectantly.
The gulls’ quarrel ended when one of them flew off with the fish. The waves continued to crash, but they’d been doing that forever. The wind had died away, so the grass was silent. So was the god.
“Maybe not six monks,” Nightshade temporized. “How about two monks and a knight? Or one monk and a wizard?”
Atta whined and pawed at his leg. Nightshade reached down to pet her head, but she slid her head out from under his hand. She looked at him and her eyes narrowed. She was not urging him. She was telling him.
Enough of this nonsense. We’re going back.
Her intense gaze made him go all squirmy inside.
“Now I know what it feels like to be a sheep,” he muttered, trying to avoid her piercing gaze. “Let’s wait just one more minute, Atta. Give the god a chance. It’s those boulders, you see. I don’t have any skin left on my palms—What’s that?”
Nightshade caught sight of movement. He whipped around and stared down the road and saw, in the winking moonlight, two people walking his direction.
“Thank you, Majere!” Nightshade cried and he began running down the road, waving his arms and calling, “Help!
Help!”
Atta dashed after him, barking madly. The kender was so excited and relieved he paid no attention to the tone of her bark. He kept running, and he kept yelling, “Boy, am I glad to see you!” and it was only when he was much closer to the two people and took a good look at them that he realized he wasn’t.
Glad to see them.
They were the Beloved.
ina stared out the window at the Blood Sea that was calm in the moonlit darkness. The red light of Lunitari glimmered on the rolling waves, forming a moon glade, a red path across the red water that was stained purple from the night. Mina’s longing carried her out of her prison to the endless eternal sea. The waves lapped at her feet and she strode into the water …
Behind her, the door creaked open.
“Chemosh!” Mina said with heartfelt joy. “He has come to me!”
She was back in the room, back in the prison in an instant. Arms outstretched, she turned to welcome her lover, ready to fling herself at his feet and beg his forgiveness.
“My lord—” she cried.
The words died on her lips. Joy died in her heart.
“Krell,” she said, and she made no effort to hide her loathing. “What do you want?”
The death knight clanked ponderously into the room. The helmed head, adorned with the curling rams horns, leered at her. Piggy fire-eyes flared.
“To kill you.