Daughter of the Drow - Elaine Cunningham [129]
"Very impressive," she complimented him.
The young man's eyes looked haunted. "You saw?"
"Yes, of course. It was wonderful to watch. From a safe distance, of course."
"How can you say such a thing?" he cried. "By all the gods, I tore the thing's throat out!"
The drow shrugged, not seeing the problem. There were more important matters to attend to. Night was fading, and so was the sleep-poison holding the drow hunters. "We need to take shelter. I know a place."
When he hesitated, Liriel snatched his wrist and pushed up the tattered sleeve. There were marks where the quaggoth's filthy claws had scored him, along with an older, deeper cut that badly needed restitching. "Look-you're hurt, I'm tired. Try to be sensible."
Indeed, Fyodor was weaving on his feet, for the familiar sickness that followed a berserker rage was upon him. "A truce," he agreed wearily.
Too exhausted, too sick at heart to care whether the treacherous drow kept faith or not, Fyodor let her lead him to a cave nearby. With a snap of her fingers, the dark wizard lit a small fire. While Fyodor warmed himself, she deftly tended his hurts. From her travel bag she produced some trail rations-strips of dried meat he recognized as rothe-and they ate in silence. Feeling somewhat revived by the food and fire, he took a few swallows from his flask. He turned to offer some to the drow, but found she had left his side. He watched, puzzled, as Liriel settled down at the mouth of the cave.
"It's silver," she murmured in an awed tone. "The sky is truly silver!"
Suddenly he understood. This was her first sunrise, and her tense, expectant pose suggested it was an experience she had long awaited. Not wishing to disturb the elf'spleasure, but desiring to witness it, Fyodor came quietly to sit beside Her. Her eyes watered as if she were in pain, but she did not; turn away from the dawning light. Without looking at him, she seized his arm and pointed to some rosy wisps of cloud.
"Look at the smoke there! What is that color?"
Those are clouds, and they are pink. You've never seen the color before?"
"I've never seen anything like this before," Liriel said, not once taking her eyes from the brightening sky. "Look there! The sm-the clouds there are purple, and gold. It is always like this?"
"Dawn? No. It is different each day. The colors come again when the sun sets."
Liriel barely had time to absorb this marvel when the sun itself crested the hills. A sliver of red, brighter than molten metal, edged into the sky. She cried out in a mixture of pain and wonder. Her eyes burned fiercely, but she would not look away.
Fyodor was touched by the draw's innocent joy, and loath to end the moment. But he took the girl by the shoulders and turned her firmly to him. "You must not stare at the sun, even now, when its light is faint. Even those born under its light cannot bear to do so."
She cast one last, lingering glance at the wondrous sun as she followed Fyodor into the cave. "Its light is faintr she echoed incredulously.
Back in the soothing darkness, she turned her full curiosity upon the human. In answer to her eager questions, he told her what had befallen him since their last meeting. Her reaction was slight when he spoke of a red-haired drow wizard, but Fyodor did not miss it.
"You know him."
"I'm afraid so. That could only be Nisstyre. Only he would know where to find you," she said bitterly. She told him about the wizard's part in arranging a false trail that would lead Fyodor out of the Underdark. "I thought you'd be safer on the surface," she concluded with a wry grin. "I may reconsider that opinion."
This news baffled Fyodor. "Why would you do such a thing?"
Liriel shrugged and tucked a bit of gold chain deeper into the neck of her tunic. "You tricked me. I admired that. But all that is done and over. I have work to do."
The drow took