Daughter of the Drow - Elaine Cunningham [43]
Mistress Zeld'a orders.
Liriel was spared the necessity of attacking, for she found her room empty. A faint, telltale odor lingered in the air, and her lips curved in a hard little smile. It might be a few days before Shakti Hunzrin realized she herself was the source of the pungent scent. Thanks to a specially tailored cantrip, the wretched she-rothe would exude the odor of manure through her pores until Liriel tired of the game and released the spell. In the meantime, this invisible manure-trail gave her an amusing way to keep track of the priestess's comings and goings.
The first thing Liriel did was check her book chest. To her relief, the lock was undisturbed. Shakti had been more interested in browsing through her wardrobe. An image of the stout priestess strutting about clad in some of the more revealing finery popped into Liriel's mind, and she laughed aloud.
She abruptly sobered and surveyed the damage. Technically, she should tell Mistress Zeld about the intrusion and have the Academy repair the door at once. That would no doubt lead to an inquiry, however, and some things were best left unexamined. Even if she wanted to report Shakti, doing so might focus a bit too much attention on her own recent activities. No, there was a better way.
Liriel hurried down to the kitchens to recruit some manual labor. As she made her way toward the dungeonlike lower levels, she reflected on her recent spate of pranks. In a corner of her mind, Liriel acknowledged that she was privileged and indulged, that she'd led a much different life from that most drow of Menzoberranzan knew. But her charmed existence had ended, and the pranks had been a last-and admittedly dangerous-attempt to deny this reality. Shakti's blatant attack signaled that she herself had pushed too far. Liriel did not intend to start a war, and she resolved to act with more discretion henceforth. She had seen the obsidian statues in the Academy's courtyard-all that remained of students who had misstepped-and she did not wish to join them.
The time for midday meal had passed, and the kitchen dungeons were quiet now. There, up to her elbows in a vast kettle of soapy water, was an ogre female. The creature was fully twice the size of the slender drow and seemed fash- ioned to inspire fear-tinged loathing. Muscles bulged under the ogress's leathery hide, and canine fangs jutted up from her lower jaw. Her face was set in a hate-filled scowl. Clad only in a leather apron, the ogress attacked the pots with a ferocity that suggested a mortal vendetta against dirt.
Trays of sliced raw fish lay on a nearby table, ready to be spiced and served at the evening meal. The drow selected a nice tidbit and popped it into her mouth, then turned a comrade's smile upon the ogress.
"Chirank, I have another job for you," she said.
The female's face lit up. "If Chirank do job, what you give this time?" she said in a deep growl.
Liriel held up a large gold coin. The ogre seized the coin with a soapy paw and bit down on it hard. She regarded the deep tooth marks with pleasure and grunted happily.
Seeing that the deal was made, the drow took a step forward. "You remember where my room is?… Good. There was a battle of sorts there, and I need someone to clear away the mess at once."
"Much blood? Drow bodies?" Chirank asked hopefully.
"Not this time," the dark elf replied in a dry tone. "All it needs is a little light housekeeping. Then there is the small matter of the missing door."
"Chirank not take," the ogress said defensively.
"Of course not. But you could, if you wanted to?"
The ogress shrugged, her animal eyes wary.
Liriel came one step closer. "Remember the room where you put the rothe manure? I want you to go there, steal the door, and hang it on my doorposts. You'll need to replace the lock, as well."
"Hard to do," Chirank bargained.
The elf held up two more coins. "You and I both know you can pick locks as fast as any halfling. No one will see you, I promise."