Heirs of Prophecy - Lisa Smedman [33]
Behind the woman, from the direction of the road, came the sound of lilting voices. The elves had obviously completed their predation upon the caravan and now were breaking the eerie silence they had maintained throughout their attack. Larajin wondered if Dray had survived. She prayed that the elves had shown him mercy-and that they would extend that mercy to her. She decided to try a different approach.
Slowly, not wanting her movements to be misinterpreted, Larajin turned her dagger to show the elf its hilt.
If this elf spoke Sembian-flavored Common, perhaps she knew a little of Sembia's geography-and politics. A member of a noble household might be deemed one worth keeping alive, worth ransoming.
"I am a member of a noble Sembian house," Larajin began. "My…" She hesitated, then decided there was no harm in telling the truth, so far from home. "My father is Thamalon Uskevren. This is his dagger. It bears our family crest."
Recognition flickered in the elfs eyes. She knew the master's name!
Larajin took a deep breath, hoping the elf would listen, this time.
"Twenty-six years ago, Thamalon Uskevren journeyed north to the Tangled Trees. He met an elf woman-a wild elf of the forest-and… lay with her. A year later he returned, and found that she had given birth to his child. She died during the birthing, and so I was given to my father. I was raised in his house, in Sembia, but now I have returned. I am looking for…" She paused, unsure for a moment how to continue. "For my roots. My… family."
She waited, praying the elf would believe her.
The elfs eyes had grown wider as Larajin spoke. Suddenly, in one swift motion, she lowered her bow. Removing her arrow, she slid it into the quiver at her hip. She pressed both hands against her heart, palms to her chest, and bowed.
"I should have paid more heed to the goddess's sign. Perhaps then I would have recognized you," she said as she straightened, "but it is little wonder that I didn't. You and your brother are as different as day and night."
"My brother?"
Before Larajin had a chance to ask more, the elven woman motioned for silence. Behind her, a dozen elves came running hghtly through the wood. She turned quickly and signaled to them. They slowed their pace, at the same time lowering their weapons. The woman spoke
to them in their own rapid tongue, pointing several times at Larajin, and once getting her to lift her hand and show the elves the tressym feather she was holding. There were mutters, at first, but then more than one of the elves began nodding.
The woman turned back to Larajin. "You will come with us, to the Tangled Trees," she said. "We will leave at once."
Larajin nodded, and allowed a smile of relief to creep to her lips. Silently she thanked the goddesses-first Hanali Celanil, then Sune-for watching over her. Despite the terrible fact that men had just fought and died on Rauthauvyr's Road, Larajin had survived, and would soon be on her way to the Tangled Trees. The goddesses seemed to be watching over her, after all.
CHAPTER FOUR
Leifander circled over the lights below, which were brighter than the glow from a thousand campfires. Even at this height the city assaulted his senses. The stink of dead fish, tar, and sewage rose from the harbor. Even in the depths of night, grunting laborers loaded cargo into ships, and carriages rattled through the streets, axles squealing. Lanterns burned on side streets where no one walked, and smoke smelling of cooking grease wafted out of chimneys, clogging the already humid air.
Leifander cocked his head, staring disdainfully down at the city. Humans were a wasteful, destructive race. How he yearned for the fresh green of trees that had stood for centuries, the quiet stillness of a forest glade under moonlight. He would be glad when this mission was done.
He finally spotted the building Rylith had described. Stormweather Towers was a massive stone structure topped with towers and turrets; it rose like a rocky