Elminster's Daughter - Ed Greenwood [40]
There was Rhauligan, their eyes meeting for a brief, thoughtful moment ere she dropped out of view and slid down the far side of her roof toward a lower one, beyond. Belonging to a small building, it was narrow, relatively flat, and of wooden shingles streaked with thick and probably slippery moss-but it led to another steep roof, not far away, and the short distance between the two peaks gave Narnra an idea.
She could spare a dagger-a dagger. If she could get to that second roof in time…
She could, and- thankyou, Mask and Tymora both!-the far side of this Marsemban mansion sprouted a side-wing whose lower roofpeak gave her something to stand on, below the one that looked back at the way her pursuer should be coming. And high-ranked Harper in the service of Cormyr or not-what'd the Simbul called him? "Highknight"?-he'd not chase her half so well once he'd stopped a steel fang in the face!
Rhauligan's head was suddenly there, bobbing up over the edge of his roof-and she set her teeth, rose up, and threw her second-best belt knife as hard and as fast as she could.
It bit home and stuck, quillons-deep in… well, he must have slipped on a hood, or a mask. His head-if it was his head-sank down out of view, leaving the Silken Shadow to stare across at the rooftop, briefly moonlit, now, as the mists parted momentarily… and breathe heavily… and wonder if she'd just killed the man.
When the mists came back and returned the rooftops to smoke-like shadow, several long breaths later, Narnra drew in a deep, shuddering breath, turned, and went on.
* * * * *
"Starmara? Starmara, my love, are you awake?"
Her husband's voice was a throaty growl-the tone he fondly believed was some sort of irresistible amorous purr-and Starmara Dagohnlar stared drowsily at the luxurious rubyweave draperies of their bed-canopy, high overhead, and managed not to sigh.
Durexter Dagohnlar could certainly rake in the coins when she urged him on. He might be a thoroughly dishonest, ill-smelling brute and boor of a mightily successful-and widely hated- Marsemban merchant… but before all the gods, he was her thoroughly dishonest, ill-smelling brute and boor.
And there were times when beasts must be sated, no matter how distasteful the process. Sleepily Starmara shed her shimmer-weave robe so he wouldn't tear it apart like he had the last one, elbowed a cushion aside so she'd be comfortable, and whispered back as alluringly as she knew how, "Awake and aching for you, my lord."
Durexter chuckled and rolled across the substantial acreage of silken sheeting between them, scattering cushions and breathing the garlic and Thayan pepper sauce she fervently wished he wouldn't douse his meat so heavily with, all over her.
"Well, now, my proud beauty-so smooth and warm and, heh-heh, handy -know the love of the most grasping, deceitful, law-shattering, tax-evading, and just gods-kissed successful merchant in all Marsember!"
Starmara gently bit her husband's chest to keep from having to kiss the stinking mouth that was so enthusiastically delivering his usual modest little speech, as he bruisingly maneuvered himself into what he imagined was a heroic stance. She entertained a brief fantasy of just sliding right down the bed and out from under whilst he was still chest-beating and crowing his exploits, so that he'd ultimately crash down onto-nothing.
Then he was… he was…
Choking and gurgling strangely above her, awakening Starmara to the sudden apprehension that his heart might have given out at blessed last and he was now going to slam down and crush her into the bed, suffocating her with his dead weight long before any servant could find them! Frantically, she clambered and slid toward the foot of the bed, her perfumed robe tangling-and emitted a brief shriek as Durexter toppled over suddenly onto her left elbow.
With a frantic twist and kick