Black wizards - Douglas Niles [21]
Consequently, Robyn avoided the cottage as much as possible. This was not difficult, because the tasks she had to do would remain doubled as long as Genna was.
"His work's not too bad – for a mushroom-head," commented Newt in a stage whisper. He had taken to calling the stranger unflattering names, out of jealousy, Robyn suspected, for now she no longer attended entirely to the little dragon.
"Stop it," she chided. "He seems to be growing much stronger. All he needed was a little shelter and decent food!"
"Maybe he's strong enough to walk away from here," grumbled Newt. "And it'll be none too soon, I might add!"
"Why don't you go take a bath in the Fens if you can't be a little more polite?"
The stranger paused and turned to see if Robyn was watching. When he met her gaze, his face split into a wide grin, and he nodded enthusiastically before turning back to the task. For several minutes he chopped and trimmed, until the druid noticed that his strike was less sure.
"I'll take over again," she offered, reaching for the sickle. The stranger suddenly whirled, his face twisting into a beastly snarl as his eyes darted wildly about. He appeared to stare right through her. But then he relaxed and smiled, meeting her gaze boldly. He handed the tool over and then stood near as she continued the job.
"Stand back," she warned. "I don't want to hit you."
Obediently, he stepped away, but he still stared at her like an affectionate puppy. She could feel his unwavering gaze following her every motion, and found the sensation distinctly uncomfortable.
"Good! Good!" He cackled cheerfully, watching the hedge take shape.
"Who are you, anyway?" Robyn stopped working and stared at the stranger, she had not troubled about his identity when he was not talking, but now that he spoke, she wanted a name to call him by.
"I…" The man's voice was puzzled and unsure. Suddenly, his eyes widened in fear and he scuttled away from her. He crouched, his body wired with tension, as if he were about to flee.
…Or attack? For a moment she felt very frightened of this stranger. And very vulnerable. With an angry shrug, she tried to ignore the feeling.
Inside, though, she was deeply disturbed by his fear. What could lie in his background that made him so frightened of companionship, of revealing his identity?
He stared at her again as she went back to work. But now his eyes followed her body less like a puppy and more like a hungry wolf. Robyn shivered involuntarily, and she clutched the sickle tightly as she turned to the mistletoe.
* * * * *
Hobarth, cleric of Bhaal, stood upon a low hill just outside of Cantrev Kingsbay. He had a clear view of the bay itself and of the wide gray sea stretching to the east. Somewhere out there, he knew, the sun had risen, but a low-lying bank of clouds concealed the dawn from those on shore.
A half-dozen fishing vessels dotted the waters of the bay, moving toward deep water. There, salmon dashed in great numbers between the islands of Gwynneth and Alaron, and these fishermen made a fair living.
But one boat, Hobarth knew, had put to sea not to catch fish, but to deliver Tristan Kendrick dangerously close to Hobarth's and Cyndre's domain. Or at least attempt to deliver, the cleric gloated.
He meditated for a long time, sitting perfectly still with his eyes closed and his body upright. Gradually, he felt the presence of his deity, and Bhaal answered the summons of his faithful follower.
The spell he needed to cast was one of his most potent. It called for the direct might of his god, Bhaal, and allowed the cleric to control the very substances of the world around him. Bhaal eagerly powered the spell, for in fact he watched Hobarth's mission with more than slight interest. Magic flowed through the cleric's body