Heirs of Prophecy - Lisa Smedman [37]
Thazienne stood with arms folded across her chest. "Father! How can you listen to this nonsense? He's an assassin-or at the very least, a spy. I caught him in my room, creeping around in the dark."
Thamalon gave a barely audible sigh. "Hardly the first time a young rogue was found there," he muttered. His eyes, however, remained locked on Leifander's. "I'm waiting," he reminded the elf.
Leifander cleared his throat a second time. He decided to say as the druids had bade him, ask Thamalon for whatever information he could provide about his father, then be quit of this place.
"I am told, Thamalon Uskevren, that you have a fondness for the Tangled Trees. That you traveled there some years ago."
Thamalon's eyes brightened with anticipation. "Go on."
"While there, you had union with a woman of my people. That union produced a child."
Out of the corner of his eye, Leifander noted that Thazienne's mouth had dropped open. He hadn't realized that she understood the language of the forest elves- and neither had her father, from the startled look that Thamalon shot her.
Leifander kept an eye on Thamalon, watching for confirmation that the story the druids had told him was true. It came, in the form of a slowly creeping flush that spread upward from the collar of Thamalon's doublet, not quite reaching his cheeks. Thamalon's expression, however, remained utterly unchanging, as if his features had been set in wax.
"Go on," he repeated, this time in a voice crackling with tension. "You've come with a message from Larajin, haven't you? Is that where she's run to-the Tangled Trees? Is she safe-is she well?"
Puzzled, Leifander faltered to a halt. He'd spoken the words that Rylith had made him memorize-a message designed to play upon Thamalon's sympathies for the elves by reminding this human that he'd sired a half-elf child. That child, according to Rylith, lived in Selgaunt, and was named Larajin. It seemed this Larajin had flown from the nest. If Leifander revealed the fact that he knew nothing of her whereabouts, would Thamalon dismiss him without answering the questions that burned inside Leifander?
Thazienne ran fingers through her hair, then broke the strained silence with a question. "Father? Is what this wild elf's saying true? Is Larajin really your daughter?"
Thamalon closed his eyes for a moment, as if gathering strength. "I'm afraid she is." He shot Thazienne a look. "And you are to tell no one-not even your mother- what you have just heard. Am I understood?"
Thazienne started to arch a mocking eyebrow, then thought better of it. "All too well, Father," she said,
struggling to keep a straight face. These… impetuosities… do happen."
Thamalon glowered at her.
Leifander cleared his throat to remind them that he was still there.
"Sir," he said, "having delivered my message, I wish to speak to you about another matter. The druids told me that you know my father. He is an elf, living here in Selgaunt. I was hoping you could give me news of him."
Thamalon at last tore his eyes away from his daughter. "What is his name?"
Leifander blushed. "I… don't know." He reached inside his vest, feeling for his mother's ring. "The druids told me you would know him by his ring. He gave it to my mother, just before he left the Tangled Trees."
Thamalon stiffened as he glanced at the ring. His face blanched still further, and his voice grew strained when he asked, "What was your mother's name?"
Trisdea. She was a priestess and warrior among her people. She died giving birth to-"
Trisdea was also the name of Larajin's mother," Thamalon interrupted. "But that can't be. They said…" A troubled look came into his eyes. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-five."
Thazienne snorted. The same age as Larajin? How convenient," she said, in a voice dripping with sarcasm. "Father, you can guess what's coming next. This elf is going to tell you some ridiculous story-that he's Larajin's twin, or something."
"No," Leifander protested. "My father was-"
Then hell try to claim his inheritance,"