Heirs of Prophecy - Lisa Smedman [105]
Leifander dismissed this foolish notion with a curt flick of his fingers. Why did every human he confessed his parentage to assume he'd want to live in a crowded, stinking pile of stone like Selgaunt?
"I'm not interested in Sembian gold," he told Dray.
"Perhaps not," Dray agreed as his eyes slid sideways to Larajin, "but she is. Or to be more specific, she's interested in Foxmantle gold."
Dray turned to Larajin and nodded at her dagger. "The weapon with the Uskevren crest was a nice touch. It had me fooled. No wonder you were so keen on joining my caravan. You hoped to seduce me!"
Anger blazed in Larajin's eyes. "Seduce you?" she echoed in an exasperated voice. "You were the one who practically proposed marriage. I never-"
Leifander, growing impatient, touched Larajin's arm.
"This discussion is pointless," he told her. "You've repaid this man by saving his life, but now time is wasting. Let's shift and be off, before more spiders find us."
Dray, obviously realizing that he was about to be left
to make his own way home alone from the middle of the spider-infested woods, caught at Larajin's arm.
"Larajin, please forgive me," he begged. "I'm sorry to have insulted you. Please, won't you at least loan me your dagger, so I at least have a fighting chance of getting home?"
"I can't," Larajin answered. "It's… an heirloom, but Leifander might be able to spare his dagger."
"What?" Leifander whirled around and glared at her. He gestured angrily at Dray. "He's a human. An enemy."
Amazingly, Larajin moved between Leifander and Dray, as if shielding the human.
"He's harmless, Leifander, just a merchant. I'd stake my hfe on it."
"You'd stake other people's lives on it, you mean," Leifander muttered to himself. Then, seeing that Larajin was not going to be swayed from this foolish notion, he added, "Do you think hell agree to a magically binding oath?"
Instead of answering, Larajin looked at Dray. The human nodded.
Leifander drew his dagger-smiling inwardly as Dray flinched-then reversed the blade. He spoke a prayer in Elvish, activating the spell that would bind Dray to his oath.
"Touch the hilt," he instructed.
Dray hesitated only an instant before obeying.
"Now swear," Leifander intoned, "that you'll only use this dagger to defend yourself against forest creatures- that you won't wield it against my people, the elves."
Dray drew himself up and placed a hand on his heart.
"I swear it," he said. He blinked once, as Leifander's spell rooted the suggested course of action firmly in his heart, then he hefted the dagger and added, with a grin, "Truth be told, I'm more a man to avoid fights than prompt them."
He turned to Larajin. "Thank you for all that you've done. Back on the caravan, when I said you were pretty, I wasn't lying. You're quite beautiful. If you really were an Uskevren, I'd renew my proposals." He winked. "But
business, unfortunately, must always come before pleasure, even for a Foxmantle."
Leifander tugged impatiently at Larajin's arm. "Come," he said. "Time to shift."
Leifander squatted and spread his arms, preparing to skinwalk. Larajin nodded, then sank to her knees on the ground, clutching the locket at her wrist. As she began the spell that would shift her into tressym form, however, she cast one last glance over her shoulder at Dray, then she closed her eyes, as if the sight of him was distracting her.
Leifander shook his head at her folly. Dray might be handsome but he had little else to recommend him, and yet he'd won Larajin over with nothing more than a few charming words. It was amazing, Leifander thought, what lengths someone would go to, given the promise of a little romance.
Dusk descended as they winged their way east. Ahead in the distance, Larajin could see a sprinkling of lights straddling a dark slash across the forest that could only be Essembra and Rauthauvyr's