Elminster's Daughter - Ed Greenwood [114]
Maerjanthra had pinned the fine chain of the pectoral up on a cloth-covered dummy to begin the task, even as word had raced through the streets that a tiara worth millions in gold had been stolen from the bechamber of House Lathkule, the finest jewelers among the nobility of Waterdeep. Then-
No!{furious turmoil, claw thrust shake} NO! I won't see this! I WON'T!
–Later, wandering alone and despairing across the pitiless rooftops, weeping and raging. The rubies gone from the shop before Narnra, flung out her windowsill by the heaving shuddering of the explosion, could even climb back inside to… to…
Get out of my head, Caladnei! Get back go away leave me!
On the rooftops months later, as that winter came stealing in with ever-colder breezes, still heartsick, still wondering: Had it been the Artemels, wanting to silence Lady Maerjanthra of the Gems so she could never reveal that the rubies had come to her in a tiara? Or the Lathkules, wanting to obliberate a long-time rival at gemcutting, perhaps thinking her the tiara-thief? Had an apprentice betrayed her mother, whispering to the Lathkules, or…?
Caladnei!(sobbing anguish, blind clawing and fighting}
[My apologies, Narnra. I've known sorrow too.]
Hurrying home to Turmish on a borrowed horse after hearing the dark news, along winding upland lanes to the tiny Turmish village of Tharnadar Edge. Her mother had been born there and now was gone, lost at sea, not even any bones to bury.
Her father Thabrant, still tall but now dark-eyed, grim, uncaring. A hollow shell of a man with no vigor left in him, not even any tears. She'd cried for the both of them, arms fierce around him. He'd stood like a statue, quietly telling her he'd never trust gods again.
He told her he was going to go home to Cormyr to die. "On the smallest ship I can find, Gala, with the worst crew. I hope Talos and Umberlee take me when we're on the waves, as they did her. I'll go to their altars and curse them both before I go aboard."
No chance for either of them to say goodbye to the swift-tempered, passionate bird of a woman who'd been the hearthstone for both their lives: Maela Rynduvyn, slender, deft, and quiet-footed. Her hair russet, the same strange eyes she'd given Caladnei, dusky-skinned, most comfortable barefoot in old clothes. Drowned in a storm off Starmantle on her way to Westgate to see a long-lost sister.
Her father had held his gnarled woodcarver's hands awkwardly that day, the first time Caladnei had ever seen him do so. He'd cradled empty air as if he were carrying something precious or hoped to catch it by never looking at it but keeping always ready. He hadn't looked at the meal Caladnei had made for them both or at anything but her. She'd shivered often that night as she lay unsleeping in the dark watching him sitting by the window staring back at her-because she knew he wasn't seeing her but her mother. Only her mother.
Mage, I don't CARE about your dead mother or anything of your life! I just want this to be over and you to be out of my mind, my-my-
[Easy, Narnra. Easy. Show me the first thing that comes into your mind.]
Alone and hungry, that first winter, being passed a flagon by a man with an easy smile, slouched outside the open door of his hut in Dock Ward. It was more than wine, a fire in her belly that soothed and drove off the chill and helped her laugh. They told jokes and tales and snorted at each other's mimicry of the street merchants, and after a time Urrusk had taken her inside to swipe the flies from a half-gnawed roast goat-leg and hand it to her.
Her empty stomach had made her pounce on it and gnaw like a panther, and he'd laughed all the more, refilling her flagon often and just laughing when he fumbled with her lacings and couldn't find her belt and fell on his face against her shins.
Another man had lurched in the door and backhanded Urrusk away.