Heirs of Prophecy - Lisa Smedman [21]
Bending, Larajin dipped her fingers in the water, lost in thought. The tressym butted up against her, and, remembering that the creature was the one who had alerted Drakkar, Larajin flicked wet fingers at the winged cat. The tressym flattened her ears and gave an indignant hiss, then launched herself into the sky.
Larajin watched her go, shaking her head. She'd tried to slip away from Habrith's bakery without being followed, but somehow the tressym had found her. It seemed Larajin could no more leave the little creature behind than she could escape her own shadow. At least the tressym had the good sense not to pad along behind Larajin like a dog, as she'd made her way to the temple. Instead she'd kept her distance, flitting along from rooftop to rooftop, up where few noticed her.
While she waited for the Heartwarder and her clerics to finish their ritual-they'd be setting out as soon as the Song of Sunrise ended-Larajin stared out through the courtyard's gate at the street, which was just starting to fill with carriages and passersby. One of them stopped at the gate, and peered in through the wrought iron. For a moment Larajin thought it was one of the guard-that she'd been spotted-then a familiar voice shouted her name.
Realizing it was Tal, she hurried toward the gate, gesturing frantically for him to be quiet. At the same time, she silently cursed. She'd hoped that Tal would sleep until well after she was gone. He'd obviously awakened earlier than usual, found her note, and assumed that she wouldn't leave the city without paying her respects at the temple. Had Drakkar guessed the same?
Larajin opened the gate and all but yanked Tal inside the courtyard. She shut it hurriedly, then dragged him into the shadow of the wall, where they couldn't be seen from the street. They stopped beside a pile of bags and crates the clerics would take with them on their journey to Ordulin.
Tal looked as though he'd left the house hurriedly. His doublet was only half buttoned, his hair was uncombed, and a shadow of stubble covered his heavy jaw. He carried a small leather pouch in one hand and a cloth-wrapped object the size of a candlestick in the other. The latter he held in a peculiar fashion, arm extended to keep it at arm's length from himself.
"Larajin," he panted, a worried look in his eye. "I'm so glad I found you. Are you really leaving Selgaunt? These are dangerous times to be traveling."
Larajin nodded. "I have to, Tal. Drakkar-"
"I want to come with you…" Tal said in a husky voice, then, before Larajin could protest, he added, "but I can't. The Merchant Council is agitating for war against the elves. If it comes, I'm to serve in a company under Master Ferrick. Leaving now would be seen as desertion-as cowardice. I just wish…"
Larajin, horrified by the prospect of war engulfing the lands to the north-lands through which she was about to travel-could only stare at Tal.
Misinterpreting her look, he hastily added, "Don't worry, Larajin. The elves are only half the soldiers that we are. They're too simple to understand the tactics of battle. If it does come to war, we'll squash those savages in a tenday. Ill march home again without a scratch."
Larajin said nothing. In his usual blundering way, Tal had insulted her without realizing it, not understanding that Larajin had been born to a mother who was a "savage" and therefore "simple."
The leather pouch clinked as he thrust it into Larajin's hands. "There's twelve fivestars and nearly a hundred ravens in there-all I could scrape together at a
moment's notice. That should help you along."
It was an incredible sum. Tal, I can't-"
Tal waved her protest away. "Yes, you can."
Thanking him with a silent nod, Larajin found her bag and tucked the pouch inside it.
"I've brought something for you to protect yourself with," Tal continued. "Here."
He held out the cloth-swaddled bundle. Taking