Escape from Undermountain - Mark Anthony [21]
She shrugged her broad shoulders. "That was easy enough. I was following you, of course. I have been for nearly an hour now."
Artek frowned dubiously at this. "Call me a skeptic, but I'm not exactly a beginner in matters of stealth. And my ears are really rather good. I think I would have heard if you were following me."
"Not if I had cast a spell of silence around myself," she countered with a crooked smirk.
Despite himself, Artek laughed. He doffed an imaginary hat and bowed low, conceding his defeat.
Her brown eyes flashed with mirth. "The truth is, I don't run into many other people down here," she went on. "And monsters make for dreadfully dull conversation partners before you have to kill them. It gets a little lonely. So when I saw you from a distance, I decided to cloak myself in silence and follow." She eyed the burnt remains of the flying snakes. "And it's a good thing I did. Fine company you would be if you had been melted into a puddle of black slime."
With a shudder, Artek agreed.
"By the way," the wizard added, "my name is Beckla Shadesar."
Artek held his breath a moment. "I'm Artek Ar'talen," he said finally.
She gaped at him in open surprise. "You're Artek the Knife?" Hastily she checked the pouches hanging at her belt, counting to make certain they were all still there, and regarded him suspiciously. "You know, I think you once swindled my old employer out of a casket full of emeralds."
"It wouldn't surprise me," Artek replied dryly.
"So have you come down here to steal things?"
He shook his head slowly. "No."
To his surprise she nodded, as if she actually believed him.
"So why are you down here in Undermountain?" he asked carefully.
Her lips parted in a wry smile. "I think both of our tales might wait until we've had a bit of refreshment," she said in lieu of an answer. "I have a bottle of something I've been saving just for a special occasion like this."
Artek hesitated, glancing at the tattoo on his forearm. By the position of the sun in relation to the arrow, several hours had passed. However, he supposed a few moments of rest would do more good than harm. Besides, he was curious to hear the wizard's story.
"Lead the way, Beckla Shadesar," he said with a gracious gesture.
Artek followed the wizard through a door in the far end of the hall into a dusty corridor beyond. As they turned a corner, Beckla suddenly cried out in alarm.
"Artek, look out! It's on you!"
The wizard reached out her hands and shouted a word of magic. Blue energy crackled from her fingertips, striking Artek's side. He let out a howl of pain, dancing around in a circle, swatting at his hindquarters.
"That's not a snake," he gritted through clenched teeth. "That's the scabbard for my sword!"
The wizard affected a sheepish look. "Oops."
Artek glared at her. "You nearly set my rump on fire, and all you can say is oops?"
She crossed her arms. "Well, I'm sorry," she countered petulantly. "Sometimes I make mistakes. I'm only human, you know. I suppose you're not?"
Artek grunted. She couldn't know how close to the mark her question had hit. "I think I definitely need that drink now," he muttered.
It wasn't far. At the end of a dim corridor was an iron door. Beckla waved her staff, and the door glowed briefly, then swung open of its own volition.
"It's not much," Beckla said cheerfully, "but I call it home."
She wasn't joking. Beyond the door was a cramped and dingy stone chamber. It was decorated with flotsam and jetsam scavenged from the ancient tunnels and halls: worm-eaten furniture, threadbare tapestries, and dusty shelves overflowing with moldering books and scrolls. Beckla motioned for Artek to enter and then followed, closing the door behind them. She waved her staff, and the portal locked with an audible click.
"It keeps the wandering creatures out," she explained. "Otherwise, I'd never get a wink of sleep."
They sat on a pile of musty cushions, and Beckla rummaged in a nearby chest. "I have some food, if you want