Heirs of Prophecy - Lisa Smedman [115]
Leifander, as he drifted around the tent, noted the symbol of Tempus-a silver sword in flames on a blood-red field-on Guffs surcoat. He was glad for the languor his spell had caused. Had he tried to assume material form and attack Maalthiir in his tent, Guff would have killed him in a trice with the war god's powerful magic.
Instead Leifander floated, watching and waiting. He took care not to come too close to any of the men, in case they were sensitive to the unseen. Instead he hovered above them, circling on the roiling currents of hot air thrown off by the multitude of candles. Once, he drifted too close to one of the candelabras and found that open flame still had the power to burn him, even in this form. With a silent hiss of pain, he pulled his body away, leaving the candles guttering in his wake.
The slender officer-Nadire-had turned back to the makeshift table to pour himself more wine and happened to be looking in Leifander's direction at the time. He frowned at the sudden breeze, but he returned his attention to the wine soon enough, and Leifander relaxed once more.
When Guff was finished with his prayer, Maalthiir began discussing plans for the morning's march. None of it was of interest to Leifander, save for the fact that
Maalthiir would be returning to Hillsfar the next day, leaving General Guff to command the Red Plumes. The news gave Leifander cause for hope. With the bulk of his soldiers there, Maalthiir would take only a bodyguard back to Hillsfar with him. There might be a chance yet to-
What was that Maalthiir had just said, in answer to one of Guff's questions? Leifander's attention, like what remained of his body, had been drifting. If he had heard correctly, Guff had asked a question about the poisonous mist that was blighting the forest and how his men might be protected against it. Maalthiir had told him not to worry.
"It has served its purpose," Maalthiir added. Til have Drakkar dispel it."
Drakkar? The name caused Leifander to swirl in confusion. The evil wizard had given every impression that he was in the service of the mayor of Selgaunt, yet Maalthiir was speaking of him like an old and trusted friend. Was Drakkar one of the "allies" mentioned earlier?
Nadire, meanwhile, opened one of the crates and rummaged inside it. He drew out a long tube of rolled parchment, then interrupted the discussion of tactics with a faint cough.
"Excuse me, Lord Maalthiir, but has the terminus of the new road been fixed yet?"
Maalthiir gave him an annoyed look. "You know as well as I that it hasn't."
Nadire moved two of the candelabras closer to where Maalthiir sat, then opened the parchment-which turned out to be a map-and spread it at Maalthiir's feet. Leifander, his curiosity piqued, drifted closer and recognized it as a map of the great forest by the names of the Dales that were written around the forest's outskirts.
"Will it be here?" Nadire asked, pointing at a spot at the western edge of the great forest.
Leifander drifted closer. What was this road they were talking about? Were the humans of Hillsfar-supposed
I
allies of the elves-actually talking about hacking yet another open wound through the ancient forest? Anger swirled within him.
Maalthiir made no answer, only stared at Nadire with a strange expression on his face. Guff, having drained his goblet, squinted at the map.
"You know as well as I do, Nadire, that the best place for a port is-"
The barrel-chested officer started to jab a thick finger into the map, but Nadire's hand darted out fast as a striking snake, blocking him.
Nadire's attention wasn't on the officer, however, but on the candelabras. His gaze darted from one to another-and suddenly fixed on the candles directly behind Leifander. Too late, Leifander realized that their flickering-and