Elminster in Myth Drannor - Ed Greenwood [94]
More to the point, so did Lord Evendusk, and he still carried his pegasi goad in his hand. Its leather whip whacked twice, thrice, and then a savage backhand to send the weeping servant pelting down the passage, her platter of pastries fallen and forgotten.
Duilya shuddered. "Oh, gods," she whimpered, "do I really have to go through with this?"
Yes, Duilya-or he'll be carving you up with that goad next!
Duilya sighed.
Don't worry; we're here. Do it just as we agreed.
"It's the Coronal, that's who it is!" Evendusk snarled. "Eltargrim must have got funny ideas into his head while gallivanting off through Faerun, o'erturning human wenches every night and listening overlong to their sauce…"
Lord Evendusk's customary morning rant trailed away into bug-eyed silence. There was his favorite chair, and there on the table beside it-the table that should have held a waiting glass of rubythrymm and a seeing-gem holding scenes of last night's revelry-was a full bottle of his very best tripleshroom sherry.
His wife was sitting in his chair, clad in a gown that would have made his pulses race if Duilya had been forty summers younger, twice as slim as she was, and just a bit less familiar. She didn't seem to have noticed him.
As he watched, rocking slightly from side to side and breathing heavily, she picked up an empty glass from the floor beside her, shrugged at it, and set it aside.
Then she calmly unstoppered the sherry bottle, raised it to the morning light and murmured something appreciative-and drank the whole thing down, slowly and steadily, eyes closed and throat moving rhythmically.
Lord Evendusk's silently boiling rage slid sideways, as he noticed what a beautiful throat his wife possessed. He didn't think he'd ever noticed it before.
She set the empty-yes, empty; she'd drunk the whole thing!-bottle down, face serene, and said aloud, "That was so good, I think I'll have some more."
She was reaching for the bell when Lord Evendusk found his wits and his breath again. Catching firm hold of both, he gave vent to his now-towering rage. "Duilya! Just what by all the pits of the spider-worshipping drow d'you think you're doing?" he bellowed.
As she rang the bell, his wife turned that stupid and customarily yawping face toward his, smiled almost timidly, and said, "Good morn, my lord."
"Well?" he bellowed, striding forward. "Just what is the meaning of this?" He waved at the bottle with his goad, and then glared down at his wife.
She was frowning slightly, and seemed to be listening to something.
Lord Evendusk snatched hold of her shoulder and shook her. "Duilya!" he roared into her face. "Answer me, or I'll-"
Red-faced, he raised his goad, holding it aloft, ready to strike, with a trembling hand. Behind him, the room filled with anxious servants.
Duilya smiled up at him, and tore open the front of her gown. His name was emblazoned in gems across her otherwise bare breasts. "Ihimbraskar" was rising and falling as he stared at it, gaping. Into that stunned silence she said clearly, "Wouldn't you prefer to do that in our bedchamber, lord? Where you've room to take a really good swing?"
She gave him a little smile and added, "Though I must confess I prefer it when you just put on my gowns and let me use the goad."
Lord Evendusk, who'd been in the process of turning purple, now turned white instead. One of the servants snorted in suppressed mirth, but when their lord wheeled around, wild-eyed, to glare at them all, they presented him with a row of expressionless faces and said in a ragged chorus, "You rang, great Lady?"
Duilya smiled sweetly. "I did, and my thanks for your swift arrival. Naertho, I'd like another bottle of tripleshroom sherry by my bedside, forthwith. There's no need for glasses. The rest of you, attend please, in case my lord needs something."
"Need something?" Lord Evendusk snarled, turning