Fistandantilus Reborn - Douglas Niles [31]
And he was mightily curious about the dwarf’s cloak. What did he have under there?
“That’s for protection-mine and his.” The dwarf looked out the entrance of the cave, as if he suspected someone might be sneaking toward them. Apparently satisfied, he settled back to stir his soup.
“May I offer some bread? A taste of ale, perhaps?” suggested the human. He went to the palomino and unsaddled the horse, resting his own supplies in a sheltered niche within the cave. Searching through his saddlebags, he pulled forth some choice selections from his store of provisions.
The dwarf watched with glittering, hungry eyes as Kelryn ambled back to the fire and resumed his seat on the flat rock.
“In truth, it’s been many a year since I’ve had the taste of real ale,”
Gantor admitted, maintaining his vivid stare. He reached out to snatch the skin as soon as Kelryn started to swing it over, as if he expected that the human would take it back at any instant.
“Take it. Have the whole thing,” the man urged with utmost sincerity-not from any charitable sense, but rather because he knew the power of ale to loosen the tongue of dwarf or man.
The dwarf drank deeply, lowering the flask with a satisfied smack of his lips. He was surprisingly fastidious for such a filthy and disreputable creature, for not a drop of the amber fluid trickled over his lips or spilled into the tangle of his beard.
“Good,” Gantor Blacksword allowed before taking another large swig.
The second draft apparently confirmed his initial impression, for he belched loudly, then eased backward to lean against the cave wall, his feet stretched casually toward the fire.
A dreamy smile appeared in the midst of the dwarf’s mat of whiskers.
“Yes, it’s been a long time since we shared a good taste of the barley,” he sighed.
Kelryn was about to reply that they’d never shared a drink before, when he realized that the dwarf had not been talking to him. “Does Fistandantilus care for something a little stronger?” asked the man. “I have a small nip of wine that I’ve been saving for a special occasion.”
Abruptly the dwarf stiffened, sitting upright and scowling with a menacing tuck of his brows. His eyes, usually so wide, were narrowed to white slits in the wrinkled map of his face. “What did you say?” he asked, his voice a low growl.
Kelryn silently cursed himself for trying to move too fast. Still, his curiosity would not allow him to backtrack. “You mentioned-that is, I believe you said-that you were here with the wizard, Fistandantilus. I merely asked if he desired a taste of wine.”
“He’s not here,” the Theiwar declared. Once again his voice became friendly, conspiratorial. “As a matter of fact, he’s dead.”
“I’m sorry,” replied Kelryn disingenuously. “I had hoped to make his acquaintance.”
“You can.” Cantor’s head bobbed enthusiastically. “I know him.”
The man ignored the contradiction. “Splendid! What does he want?”
“He wanted me to kill the kender. I knew that as soon as I picked up the bloodstone.” The dwarf nodded in affirmation of his statement. “He told me to use the skull to nit him, and I did.”
“That was wise,” Kelryn agreed sagely. “He’s not one you’d want to argue with.”
“No.” Cantor’s beard and hair bristled as he shook his head vehemently.
The human thought about his companion’s remarks, which he had at first been inclined to dismiss as the ravings of a lunatic. But now he was not so sure.
“You said something about a bloodstone. Is that how you talk to Fistandantilus? Do you see him or hear him in the gem?”
“That’s it!” the dwarf agreed enthusiastically. Once more he cast a look to the outside of the cave. “I’ve never shown it to anyone before, but it’s all right. He says I can let you see it.”
Apparently satisfied by his own explanation, the dwarf reached under his beard, into his tunic, and pulled out a golden chain.
Kelryn gasped as the bloodstone came into view. Never had he seen so large a gem, and the finespun gold surrounding the stone was worth a small fortune by