Daughter of the Drow - Elaine Cunningham [134]
Fyodor drew near, intrigued, as Liriel stretched wide the sack's one opening and began to shake out its contents. He'd dreaded returning to this place, but he understood the drow's need to find out who was pursuing her. Indeed, he himself wished to know more about the drow wizard called Nisstyre, and what it was he wanted with Liriel. So Fyodor watched intently as she shook out a number of odd items: a long, broad dagger; a small arsenal of knives; several vials of potions and poisons; a tightly scrolled map; a bag full of platinum coins; another stuffed with gems; several spell scrolls; and a small book. Ignoring the other treasures, Liriel reached for the book and paged through it. Her shoulders sagged.
"What is it?" Fyodor asked softly.
"This is a spellbook, a duplicate of one I carry. It is the work of archmage Gromph Baenre. My father."
The drow'e voice was cool and even, but Fyodor did not miss the faint note of despair in it. "Perhaps it was stolen from him," he offered.
Liriel shook her head. "Gromph is probably the most powerful wizard in a mighty drow city. A naga's magic is a pale thing in comparison. No, this creature could only have gotten the spellbook with Gromph's knowledge and contrivance."
"He is your father; he wants you back," Fyodor reasoned.
"He wants me dead! What did you think the dark naga and the two quaggoths were-a diplomatic envoy?"
Fyodor could think of no words of comfort for such a betrayal, so he stood silent while the practical drow gathered up the naga's treasures. Liriel slid the dagger into her weapon belt to replace the sword she'd lost in the cavern. The knives she tucked into numerous pockets and straps cleverly hidden about her person. She did not seem to care that Fyodor saw how and where she was armed.
The young man read in this act not only mental agitation, but a measure of trust. It astounded him that this girl, who had just taken a devastating betrayal with stoic calm, would put her confidence in him. Fyodor had come to value the dark elf'sintense, zestful approach to life, but only now did he glimpse the true measure of her resilient spirit. What her life among the drow had been, he could not imagine. What she might become, he suspected, could shape the tales his children's children might one day tell.
Liriel packed away everything, leaving the spellbook until last. She picked it up, hesitated, then handed it to Fyodor. This is too valuable to leave, but I cannot bear to carry it."
There was no note of weakness in her voice; it was calm, matter-of-fact. The Rashemi approved and admired her for it. He took the book and placed it at the bottom of his travel bag. That done, he extended his hand to the drow.
Liriel hesitated, then her slender fingers closed on his and she let him raise her to her feet. Nor did she immediately pull her hand away. Side by side, the companions walked into the gathering darkness.
An hour passed, and then another before Fyodor broke the silence that lay heavy between them. "Where were you bound before Nisstyre set upon your trail?"
Ruathym, thought Liriel, but she was not yet ready to divulge her ultimate destination. She named Waterdeep, and he nodded thoughtfully.
"It is a long trip. We must travel by day if we are to keep ahead of those who hunt you. We'll need supplies and horses. There is a village nearby, Trollbridge, where I can purchase both."
The drow girl stared at him in confusion. "But what of your own quest? I thought you wanted to confront Nisstyre's thieves!"
"And so I will. First I would see you safely to your destination, while it is still in me to do so. Are there people in Waterdeep you can trust?"
"I think so, but what about your-"
Fyodor touched a silencing finger to her lips. "Don't concern yourself for