Elfsong - Elaine Cunningham [34]
Larissa's right hand went instinctively to her left pinkie, reaching for the enspelled ring given to all Waterdeep's Lords. Her heart plummeted when she realized she'd inadvertently taken it off with her other rings and left it on the dressing table. The ring not only granted her immunity to poisons, but it would have allowed her to summon her powerful comrades. Her mind raced over other options. Screaming for help would be futile. She had several skilled and trusted fighters among her servants; if they were not already here defending her, they were dead. All her gowns were equipped with cunningly hidden stilettos, but her nearly transparent nightgowns afforded her no such protection. Larissa had but one weapon at hand-the art of a courtesan-and her maid's life depended upon her skill in wielding it.
With a delicate laugh, Larissa glided over to Hhune. "I am flattered by your impatience," she said in sultry tones. Looking up into his face, she gave him her most winsome smile and began to toy with the buttons on his coat.
"But my maid has little skill in such games as you and I might enjoy. Surely, your men would be better served at any one of our city's festhalls. Perhaps you could give them a day's holiday to taste the city's pleasures, so that we might spend the afternoon in… privacy?"
Larissa swayed closer, and Hhune's eyes darkened with an expression the courtesan knew well. She began to allow herself a bit of hope.
"You are most beautiful," the nobleman said in a thick voice. He gathered up a handful of her gleaming red hair. "I almost regret what must come to pass."
Hhune gave Larissa's hair a brutal yank, jerking her head back. With the edge of his free hand, he struck her hard on the throat. Dazed by the pain, the courtesan fell to her knees. A word from Hhune brought three more men from the hall beyond. Two of the ruffians held her while the third man caught her flailing hands. The man systematically broke her fingers, one by one. When the task was completed, Hhune nodded and his men fell back. Still on her knees, Larissa rocked back and forth, cupping ruined hands to her breast as sobs bubbled from her shattered voice box.
"Now, Larissa, Lord of Waterdeep, you will not be able to communicate by voice or quill for many days to come," Hhune said coldly. "Do not fear for your life, dear lady. Far from it. This city reeks of barbarian magic, and too many could speak with your spirit. My men are too skilled to allow you to die, so you will live, lingering for many days as if in enchanted slumber. After that," he paused and shrugged, "you may awaken. Perhaps potions and prayers may restore your voice, your hands, and your beauty. Or perhaps not."
He turned to the waiting men. "See to it," he commanded. "As for the maid, kill her and remove her from this place. Our Waterdeep agent will see that the body disappears deep into the harbor."
Hhune whirled and stalked from the bedchamber, faintly repulsed by the eager gleam in the men's eyes as they closed on the sobbing courtesan. Torture was not an uncommon weapon for the Knights of the Shield, and these men been chosen for their skill in the art. Hhune had little taste for such things, but he supposed that a man should enjoy his work.
He nearly bumped into Garnet, who awaited him in the hall. The look of blatant disapproval she sent him made Hhune feel defensive of his methods.
"The courtesan is being dealt with," Hhune said, nodding toward the closed door. "Since you did not succeed in poisoning her last night, we felt another approach was indicated."
The half-elf's eyes blazed. "Lady Thione neglected to tell me that all Lords of Waterdeep are immune to poison. Had I known such methods would fail, I would not have wasted the night chatting with her and performing at the party like some common minstrel."
"Thione said nothing of that, eh?