Daughter of the Drow - Elaine Cunningham [107]
"You must leave Menzoberranzan," the wizard insisted, pushing her toward the shining door. "It isn't safe for you to remain here. Take your new magic to the surface and live there as best you can."
"But-"
"There's no time to argue. Go now."
Stunned into obedience, Liriel stepped toward the gate.
"Wait!" shrieked Kharza, lunging forward to drag her back. He mumbled to himself for a moment, busily ticking off the numbers to nine on his fingers.
"Just as I thought," he muttered. He seized a bellpull hanging on the wall and tugged at it urgently.
A male servant came in prompt answer to the summons. Kharza seized the drow and thrust him into the glittering gate. There was a flash of light, and the acrid smell of burned flesh filled the room as the unfortunate servant disappeared.
"Every ninth person through that gate is incinerated," Kharza-kzad explained absently. "As I have told you before, no magical portal is without protection and without danger."
The familiar, pedantic tone of her teacher's voice broke through Liriel's trancelike state of shock. She threw herself into the wizard's arms, and they stood together in a brief, desperate embrace. Neither was moved to speak, for there were no words in the drow language for such moments.
Kharza-kzad put her gently away. "Go now," he said again.
The young drow nodded and stepped toward the gate. She lifted a hand in farewell and disappeared into the shining magic.
The wizard's thin shoulders rose and fell in a heavy sigh. He turned away, his movements slowed by the unfamiliar weight of sadness and loss, leaving the gate to fade in its own time. As he did a stray bit of metal caught his eye. Ever tidy, the old drow bent to pick it up. It was a brass wristband, embossed with the symbol of House Xorlarrin, and it was all that remained of the drow servant.
The wizard slid the bracelet onto his own wrist. It was too large for him, but he regarded the trophy with pride.
"How delightful," he murmured, turning his arm this way and that so the polished brass sparkled in the candlelight. "I managed to kill someone, after all."
Chapter 17
WEAPONS
I'm so delighted to have found you still here. I rather thought you'd have run to the safety of the Sorcere by now."
Startled, Kharza-kzad whirled to face his unwelcome visitor. As his eyes settled upon the copper-haired drow-who was sprawled with insolent ease in Kharza's own chair-the wizard bitterly cursed the day he'd started trading with the merchant. Once again Nisstyre had slipped into Spelltower Xorlarrin, using the gate they had established many years ago for that purpose, without invitation or permission. It had become a frequent, disturbing practice.
"What do you want?" Kharza-kzad demanded. The merchant smiled and propped his feet up on the study table, paying no heed to the pile of scrolls dented by his boots. "No more than any other drow in the city. I want Liriel Baenre's amulet."
The wizard willed himself not to let his eyes slide to the faint, nearly faded outline of the gate that had taken Liriel to safety.
"I've no idea how rabble like you heard such news, but it will do you little good," he said with a godd deal more bravado than he felt. Even flushed with the excitement of his first kill, Kharza-kzad had no real wish to raise his battle wands against another wizard. He knew success in battle involved more than might of arms and magic; it required instincts he himself had never tested, much less developed. His best chance of avoiding such a conflict, he believed, would be to utterly discourage the merchant wizard.
"By the word of the Ruling Council, the amulet was taken to the Sorcere for study," Kharza said, deliberately invoking all the powers of Menzoberranzan. "Unless you plan to apply as a student there, it's well beyond your reach."
"I think not," Nisstyre said calmly, ignoring the older drow's insults. "Somehow I doubt the amulet has made its way