Darkvision - Bruce R. Cordell [52]
"No!" Ususi screamed, and she woke.
Sun streamed in through the edges of the small porthole. No storm of darkness thundered outside. She heard once more the yells of the crewmen as they went about their duties.
Nothing but a dream… but the taper she'd lit before lying down was dead, its tiny glow snuffed.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Kiril Duskmourn's legs ached as if she'd ridden the stone destrier for days. Because she had.
Thormud insisted they always travel at night, avoiding villages and cities. They'd just passed a sizable town that Thormud had called Sezilinta. Normally, the fewer people Kiril saw, the better. And traveling in the dark usually suited her just fine, given her star elf heritage. But not tonight.
Tonight the sky was uncharacteristically heavy with clouds that veiled both moonlight and starlight. A constant spit of fine rain fell, slowly wetting every surface and penetrating every covering. After just a quarter day's travel, Kiril's hair was matted with moisture, and water continually dripped into her eyes. Her sodden clothes were cold and clammy, even in the desert. She could hardly see more than a few yards ahead through the misty rain. And the stone seats that at first had seemed reasonably comfortable now worked at rubbing her skin raw. Plus, the seats were cold. Once, she mentally compared the seats to tombstones, then she couldn't banish the image.
She was more miserable than usual. And given her normal demeanor of low-grade irritability, that was a feat.
Worse yet, the old dwarf was in a talkative mood and kept badgering her with questions about her past. He should know enough not to pry, she thought. But maybe he was feeling the effects of the cold rain, too, if he was willing to rouse her ire by questioning her-and she'd given him clear signals that she'd rather be left alone. Was Thormud actually trying to get a rise out of her, just for some diversion on the long journey?
"So tell me again," Thormud asked Kiril from his seat ahead of her, "how old did you say your sword instructor was? Seven hundred? That's old even for an elf, I hear."
Perversely, she decided not to give in to the geomancer's pestering with her usual stream of invectives. She merely grunted.
"And what about the human you were working for right before I employed you-he looked like he was ninety if he was a day. For humans, that's standing with one foot in the grave."
Kiril shrugged, knowing the dwarf couldn't see her. Her silence was answer enough. Another drop of water splashed into her left eye, and she roughly wiped it out.
"And me-I'm no dwarf lad in my first hundred. In fact, I'm probably in the last fifty years of my career."
"So?" Kiril finally asked.
"It's just that I wonder if you know anyone who isn't old."
Kiril grunted again. She said, "You know how I hate most people?"
"Yes…"
"I pick all my acquaintances old so they don't live long."
Thormud paused for a moment, then, "Ho ho! I've discovered my companion has secret aspirations to entertain, after all these years! She's bitter, no doubt about it, but witty, too."
"Why don't we pass the time with you telling me about all the different layers of sediment below us, like usual?" asked Kiril. "That way, you get to yammer on and on about something you care about, and I get a nap."
"That's more like the elf I know."
Kiril restrained herself from reaching forward and throttling the dwarf's thick neck. Instead she said, "Let's rest. You said we might reach Adama's Tooth tonight. My muscles are all cramped with the cold. I can protect you better if I can get the blood moving in my arms and legs again. If we face any more of the creatures like we fought a few nights ago…"
Thormud made several gravelly noises as if he were gargling pebbles. He was speaking Terran, commanding the stone destrier. The great creature's pace slackened to a trot, a walk, then ceased. It squatted down, allowing its riders