Frostfell_ The Wizards - Mark Sehestedt [38]
Durja landed several paces behind the leader and cawed, but the men ignored him.
"Let me gather my things," Amira said, "and you can have the fire to yourselves. I have a long way to go."
"Where is a fine woman like yourself going all alone in these hard lands?"
"I am not alone."
The leader chuckled and looked to his men. "Ah, yes. The big one. We saw him as we came in."
"Skulked in, more like."
The leader shrugged. "One must take care. You might have been bandits trying to lure us in by your fire."
"As I said, let me leave and the fire is yours. There's enough fuel there to last a while."
"Your friend, the big one, where has he gone?"
Durja cawed several times, loud and harsh. It gave her an idea.
"That was my slave," she said. "He displeased me, so I turned him into a raven. That raven." She pointed at Durja with her staff and gave it a theatrical shake.
The men didn't move, but she saw them go stiff and still. The bowmen's fingers tightened round the nocks of their arrows.
"You are a witch?" said the leader. "A Rashemi witch, then?"
"No. I am a War Wizard of Cormyr. Our apprentices practice on the Rashemi witches."
The men made the Tuigan sign to ward off evil, and two of them exchanged nervous glances.
"My father was a powerful shaman," said the leader. "His cloak shadows me. I do not fear you."
"What about your men? I think that one there would make a fine donkey." She shook her staff in his direction, and he started backward, staring nervously at his leader. "I could ride him out of here. Save my feet the journey."
Durja cawed again and flapped his wings. The two men flanking the leader spared the raven a nervous glance, but the bowmen kept their gaze fixed on Amira.
"We wish you no trouble," said the leader. "Nor trouble on us. Give us some hospitality and we will be on our way."
"Hospitality?"
"A drink. Maybe a bite or two and some gold if you have it."
"You are robbing me?" Amira put every ounce of steel she could muster into her voice, stood straight and tall, and readied her staff. Rise, rise, rise, she called to the sun. Come up now!
The leader feigned shock. "Rob? Curse the notion, holy one! You are a guest in these lands and so do not know our ways. We offer you the gift of our protection. It is custom that you offer us a gift in return. Some food, drink, and maybe a little gold to trade in the caravans would warm our hearts."
Bright light flickered on the tallest bushes and began to bleed downward. The sun was coming up at last. Durja called out again, this time hopping and flapping his wings.
"I care nothing for you or your customs," said Amira. "Be off before I become angry and turn you all into donkeys. I'll herd you to the nearest settlement and geld the lot of you!"
Durja raised a racket and would not stop. The Tuigan nearest to him, one of the bowmen, scowled and turned to him.
"Ujren!" he called. "Look here!"
The leader kept his eyes on Amira. "What is it?"
"The raven. He's standing on a bit of cloth buried in the dirt, and there's some silver."
"Silver?"
"Looks like a bit of necklace or something."
The leader gave Amira a hard look. "You buried your belongings, did you? Stay there. We will take our gift ourselves, then be off."
"I don't know what you mean," said Amira. "Ravens are hoarders. Probably just a trinket he found on the steppe."
"You said this raven was your slave."
"He wanders." Amira shrugged. "One of the reasons I turned him into a raven. I can't abide a worthless slave."
Still keeping his gaze fixed on Amira, the leader said, "See it, Geshtai."
The bowman looped one finger round the arrow on his bow to hold it in place while freeing his other hand. He approached the ground where Durja was still keeping up his racket. The raven glared at the Tuigan, his cries becoming enraged. When the man was a few paces away, Durja hopped backward,