Daughter of the Drow - Elaine Cunningham [71]
The Witches of Rashemen would grant a drow such training?" Liriel asked in disbelief. "Are these humans utter fools?" In Menzoberranzan, magical secrets were carefully hoarded, grudgingly shared. This was not merely an issue of greed, but survival. Any weapon given to another drow would almost certainly be raised against the giver.
"They taught my sister," the priestess responded with careful emphasis, "knowing they had nothing to fear from her. What is your interest in this land?"
"In the Underdark I came upon a human male. He called himself Fyodor of Rashemen and told me he was on dajem-ma-a journey of exploration."
"That is their custom," Qilue agreed, "but I'm surprised one of them would venture Below. The people of Rashemen are generally fearless, but they do not throw away their lives." lfYou haven't met Fyodor, then," Liriel said dryly. "He seemed pretty determined to do just that. Tell me, do you know of a people called the Rus?"
The priestess accepted the quick change of subject without comment. "There was such a people, many centuries past. Over the years they mingled their blood with the folk of many lands, so much of their language and customs have been lost. The old ways are strongest on the island of Ruathym."
"Did the Rus go so far as Rashemen?"
The priestess considered. "I am no sage, but I seem to recall that long ago, before the forests and rivers of the Anauroch turned to dust, Rashemen was overrun and settled by a race of seagoing barbarians who traveled as far inland as the rivers allowed. I had never drawn a connection between the two, but now that I consider the matter I see the ancient magics of these two lands have much in common."
She held up a hand to forestall Uriel's next question. "Of these magics, I know little. All I know is this: both cultures are strongly linked to their lands. Both draw magic from special places of power, as well as the spirits that dwell there."
Liriel nodded. She knew all too well that the Underdark had its own sites of power. It was that, perhaps more than anything, that tethered her to the lands below, for her people's dark magic drew heavily on the strange radiations of the Underdark.
"The Witches rule their land, so they must remain within its borders," Liriel reasoned. "But what of the Rus, who traveled constantly? It seems unlikely they would leave such power behind."
"Of the Rus, I do not know," Qilue admitted. "From the old tales, I would guess most of those raiders depended on the sword and the axe rather than upon magic. But the Witches can and do travel, although infrequently. My sister spoke of a unique artifact, an ancient amulet that could store the magic of such places in the event the Witches needed to leave their land."
"An amulet," Liriel repeated, thinking of the tiny golden dagger she had glimpsed in Fyodor's mind. "Do you know what it looks like?*
"Oh, yes. My sister carried it for a time, many years ago. The Windwalker, she called it. It is a tiny dagger in a rune-carved sheath."
With great difficulty Liriel cloaked her excitement. "How does it work?" she asked as casually as she could.
"I do not know all the details," the older drow said. "Sylune-my sister-told me the amulet will store magic from places of power, but only temporarily. Few Witches leave their land for very long, so that is enough for them. But legend suggests the Windwalker can make such powers permanent. How, I do not know. The knowledge has been lost."
Maybe, maybe not, Liriel noted silently. Her nimble mind leaped from one possibility to another, weaving the disparate threads into a new and hitherto unsuspected whole. If the far-traveling Rus had settled Rashemen, the Windwalker could well have been of their making. If this were so, then rune magic was the key to the amulet's power. If the amulet Fyodor sought was indeed the Windwalker, then this ancient device was somewhere in the