Daughter of the Drow - Elaine Cunningham [64]
"Put that out," she demanded.
"Unlike you, I cannot see in the dark," he said mildly. "Nor can I walk farther without a drink. Fighting monsters and telling stories are thirsty work."
When the drow did not object, the man pulled a flask from his sash and tipped it back for a hearty swallow. He then offered the flask to Liriel. "This was brewed in my homeland. We are famed for such things. You are welcome to some if you like, but it is very strong," he cautioned her.
Liriel smirked. Many nonPeople, from ores to deep dwarves, harbored this misconception about the seemingly delicate drow. The wines and liqueurs of the faerie elves were not unknown in Menzoberranzan, and although these might taste sweet and light, a few small glasses could send the heartiest dwarf into a snoring stupor. Drow libations-perhaps predictably-were even more potent. So she accepted the flask and took a mouthful.
The liquid had a horrid, acrid taste, and it burned her mouth as if it were molten rock. Liriel spat it out and threw the flask to the ground. The smoky brew spilled out in a spreading puddle. Immediately the man lowered his torch. The liquid caught flame with a loud burst, and a wall of nre sprang up between him and his drow captor.
Liriel reeled back, her hands clasped to her sensitive eyes. Over the roar of the fire, she heard the man's deep voice. "Good-bye, little raven. Old favors are soon forgotten!"
Anger flamed in the dark elfs heart, as bright and hot as the fire that blocked off the tunnel. How could she have been so stupid! To be tricked by a human, and a male at that! Her pride in her heritage of drow might and magic had led her to underestimate an opponent.
As Liriel's thoughts flashed over the events of the past hour, she conceded she was probably fortunate to have lost nothing more than a potential slave. And, having wasted so much time with the human, she would be lucky to get back to Arach-Tinilith before the day's classes began. Still…
A slow, admiring smile spread across her face. The blue-eyed human had shown rare cunning. He'd played a good trick on her, one she would long remember.
As Liriel hurried toward the site of the second magic portal, she suspected this night's events would linger in her mind for a very long time.
Chapter 10
WANDERLUST
Liriel made her way back through the Underdark without further incident, taking the relay of magical gates that moved her steadily back toward Menzoberranzan. Her last spell brought her to Spelltower Xorlarrin. When she emerged through the portal, Kharza-kzad fairly pounced on her. The wizard grabbed his pupil by both shoulders, and the expression on his face suggested he was not certain whether he should embrace her or shake her until her teeth rattled.
"Where have you been so long?" he demanded. "Narbondel's Black Death is long past-the new day approaches! I've been here the entire time you were gone, pacing, nearly out of my mind with worry!"
"Narbondel's Black Death," Liriel repeated softly, absently brushing aside the wizard's hands. On the surface world, that would be midnight. Soon dawn would come to the forest glade, and she would not be there to see it!
On the other hand, she had not realized so much time had passed, and she did not want to be away from the
Academy when the spell obscuring Shakti Hunzrin's scrying stone wore off. There was always the possibility Shakti might convince Mistress Zeld she had been tricked, that someone else had sent prying eyes into Mod'Vensis Tlabbar's bedchamber. The list of suspects, Liriel knew, would be very short indeed.
"Listen, Kharza, I've got to get back to Arach-Tinilith. We'll talk later."
"That's it? That's all you have to say to me? After all I've been through-the terrible risk, the worry, the sleepless hours-the very least you could