Depths of Madness - Erik Scott De Bie [35]
Asson's face went bright red. "But-" The word became coughing.
"If we must vote, at least let our discussion be rational," said Davoren. "I do not think you appreciate the dangers inherent, old man, in the proposal that we chase the grimlocks. I rather think you are considering with your-"
In the face of this intimidation, Liet felt angry rather than afraid. "Despite your lack of respect, Davoren-something I have come to expect from you…" That was Twilight talking, he realized, and it made his heart leap. "His vote must stand."
"No. He is highly emotional, incapable of real decisions. Look at his face." Asson looked away.
"W-well then," Liet said. "His vote counts as an abstention. I vote aye. Even you cannot twist me into conceding an emotional state."
Davoren sneered. "Even your obvious affection for our erstwhile mistress, eh?"
Liet fought to keep his face from blushing. He hadn't been thinking anything of the sort, but somehow the words stung. Nevertheless, Liet spoke, his voice a little choppy. "She has struck me more often than any sane man needs as a deterrent," he said. Again, that was Twilight. "That should tell you of her affections."
Davoren considered, then shrugged. "Some day, you should ask her about her former lovers-and the fates to which she led them," he said. Liet shivered, and Davoren looked at the trembling Slip. "The halfling, then."
Asson smiled at Liet. "Perhaps you truly are the age you seem."
Liet blinked. "What?"
"I'd thought you but a child in a man's body," Asson said softly, "but you do have your moments of wisdom, do you not?"
"Uh."
Something happened at that moment-something that made Liet blink. The room grew colder, or perhaps hotter. Davoren-dark and frightening of appearance as he was, suddenly darkened, as though a devil had climbed into his skin. Or, more accurately, as though his soul had blackened and became even more intense. His eyes gleamed and his voice flowed like silk.
Liet knew he had invoked some fiendish abilities, but damned if he could recognize a word or gesture of casting. Even Asson looked at Davoren, stunned.
"Child," the warlock said. "You want to get out of this dark hole, do you not?"
Slip looked at Liet pointedly, as though awaiting some signal. She shivered, but her eyes were calm. What did she want? Why did she look to him, out of all of them?
Unanswered, she looked back at Davoren. "Uh… aye."
"And you do not want to waste precious time, or risk more attacks before you can escape, eh?" His smooth voice seemed infinitely persuasive.
Liet was speechless. He felt the sword in his hand, and wondered if it had any chance of injuring the warlock-the fiend.
"Uh, no. No, I don't w-want that," said Slip.
"And neither do you want to risk your life, or all of ours, just to assuage the lusts of fools, old or young."
Liet bristled, and this time he would have attacked had Asson not coughed. At least, such is what he told himself. The concept of making a move against Davoren struck him as being like suicide-only more certain.
Asson slowly shook his head. "This is her fight," he said. "Do not interfere."
Liet realized at that moment that Asson was afraid, too- even more afraid of Davoren than losing Taslin? The youth shuddered.
Slip shook her head.
"Then speak up," the warlock invited. "Speak against their fool crusade."
"B-but…" Slip said.
The warlock frowned. "You are strong of will, child," he said. "And you care about them more than you confess. If you will not speak against their rescue, at the least decide that you will not speak for it. Abstain."
"I-I will," Slip said finally. "I abstain."
Liet gasped. "You cheated! You forced that out of her!"
"No," Slip argued. "No. I just… I can't decide on this. I don't want to make up your minds for you. As Yondalla teaches, saving them is… the right thing, but killing us all to save them…"
"Very well," said Davoren. "It looks like we're undecided. In that case…"
"Actually," Asson said. " "Tis one vote left."
"Truly?" Davoren said, feigning astonishment. "Oh yes- there