Daughter of the Drow - Elaine Cunningham [16]
For they were hunting pyrimo, small, fierce fish that could strip a full-grown lizard mount to the bone in minutes. These fish were extremely aggressive, known to leap from the water to attack animals that came to drink at the river's edge. So sharp were their teeth and so powerful their jaws that the first bite was often painless, unnoticed. The pain came quickly enough, though, for any blood in the water summoned dozens of the voracious fish. Hunting them was a dangerous sport, and accidents were not infrequent.
The first challenge was simply getting this far, for the tunnels that led to the river were seldom traveled and rarely patrolled. The river itself was a hazard-deceptively calm, given to sudden eddies and strong, random under- tows. And the fish were dangerous even in death. Their flesh was delicate, tasty-and highly toxic. Carefully prepared, pyrimo were more potent than wine, and any party at which they were served instantly became an event. Fatalities among the diners did occur from time to time, but they were rare. Carefully trained chefs prepared pyrimo knowing their own lives depended on the result.
But the party was hours away, and before them lay the challenge of the hunt. Liriel placed a booted foot on the bank and shoved hard. Her boat, tethered to the rocky bank by a light mithril chain, glided toward the center of the river. When the craft stilled, Liriel took up her spear and stood in the prow, feet braced wide for balance. Bythnara echoed her stance in the stern, while Syzwick took a seat in the center for ballast. The boat was designed so two could hunt at a time, one on either end and well out of each other's reach. The fish attacked even when impaled, and more than one drow had been bitten by his hunting companion's speared catch. Whether by accident or design, who could say?
Liriel took two small flasks from the bag at her waist and tossed one to Bythnara. The flasks were enspelled to keep the contents-fresh rothe blood-warm. Liriel opened her flask and poured a single drop of blood into the water. To the drow's heat-sensitive eyes, the droplet appeared bright red. It would be visible for only a moment, for the icy waters would cool it quickly. Liriel readied her spear and watched intently. The glowing drop disappeared, suddenly and completely.
Liriel's spear flashed down into the water. She raised it triumphantly-a fish about the size of her hand thrashed and wriggled on the point. Pyrimo were impossible to see in the water, for their body temperature matched exactly that of the chill river. Clearly visible in the warmer air, the fish was a smooth oval, with silvery scales and delicate fins-a pretty thing, except for the steely, fanged jaws that spanned the width of its body.
"Catch, Syzwick," Liriel said casually, and with a flick of her spear she tossed the lethal fish toward the male. The drow paled and cringed away. No need: the fish slapped wetly into the box at his feet,
"If you'd missed…" Syzwick began.
Liriel sent him a saucy grin. "I haven't yet! Don't worry, love, the last thing I'd want to do is drop a hungry pyrimo in your lap," she purred. "One bite, and you'd be no good to anyone."
Bythnara's lips tightened; seeing this, Liriel suppressed a sigh. Her friend could be so possessive at times! Liriel had meant only to tease Syzwick a bit, knowing the handsome male appreciated bawdy humor. But Bythnara always mistook such remarks as statements of intent.
Syzwick did not notice the female wizard's peevish expression; he grinned lasciviously at Liriel and raised an eyebrow.
"One bite?" he challenged.
Liriel swept him with an appraising glance. "Perhaps two," she allowed.
Bythnara snorted and gave her flask of