Pool of Radiance_ Ruins of Myth Drannor - Carrie Bebris [26]
Kestrel squinted, trying to make out a shape in the darkness, but could not discern even the dimmest outline. She did, however, detect a faint rustling, as of something sliding across a floor, followed by the clinking of metal.
Corran strode past Kestrel to stand before the window. “Please forgive the rudeness of my companion,” he said, casting a scolding look toward Kestrel. “She’s a little… uncultured.”
Kestrel bristled, regretting that she had thought anything nice about the insufferable Lord D’Arcey a few minutes earlier.
The paladin then peered through the window himself. “We apologize for disturbing you-we seek only an exit from these dungeons to the Heights above.”
“‘Tis not a disturbance,” the sibilant voice said. “Indeed, I welcome the diversion of visitors. This can be a rather solitary place.”
The last hiss on the word “place” caused goosebumps to form on Kestrel’s arms. She glanced at the dusty bones strewn about the floor. Had these visitors also provided a diversion? She ambled away from the door to give the dried-out bodies a closer look. At first she’d assumed the skeletons and zombies had defeated them, but now she wondered otherwise. An exchange of glances with Ghleanna revealed that the mage held similar suspicions.
“I imagine one could grow bored in such isolation,” Corran said.
“Indeed, no,” the voice said. “Lonely perhaps, but not bored. I have a hobby-a passion really-for collecting things.”
“What kind of things?” Kestrel called out, looking at the unfortunate adventurers who had preceded them to this place. Lives? Souls?
“Oh, necklaces, amulets, torcs, chokers, neck rings, pendants, collars-just about anything that goes around one’s neck.”
Jarial’s head, which until now had been bowed over Ozama’s remains, snapped up. “Preybelish,” he whispered.
Kestrel quietly moved to his side. “You know him?”
“I believe we’ve found the dark naga Ozama and I sought all those years ago,” he said, his voice barely audible even to Kestrel. “The one said to possess the Wizard’s Torc.” His fingers stroked Ozama’s cloak. “She must have died trying to get it from him.”
“Yes, she did,” the voice-Preybelish-hissed.
Kestrel’s gaze darted to the door, then back to Jarial. “How could he possibly have heard you?”
Jarial drew his brows together. “I-”
“He doesn’t know,” Preybelish said. “But he does want to avenge his lady. Don’t you… Jarial? As much as the little bird beside you wants to settle a score with a certain holy knight.”
“What do you mean by that?” Corran asked.
Kestrel froze, not even releasing her breath. Could the naga read their thoughts? She dared not ponder the idea for fear of giving something away to the creature. Instead, she concentrated on the image of a topaz necklace she’d once seen in-and liberated from-a shop window in Waterdeep. It had fetched a handsome price, but she envisioned herself holding the piece of jewelry as if she still possessed it.
“Forget these temporary companions, little thief. You don’t believe in their cause anyway,” Preybelish said. “We could form a lucrative partnership. I’ll give you fair recompense for that necklace or any other any neckwear you wish to sell me.”
“What nec-” Durwyn began. Ghleanna hushed him.
“I might be persuaded to part with it,” Kestrel replied.
“Good, very good. I shall unseal the door for you. Come in-alone-and we will bargain.”
Kestrel looked to Jarial for guidance, all the while forcing her surface thoughts to remain on the necklace. The mage nodded, but gestured for her to stall. “All right,” she said to Preybelish. “But I prefer to see who I’m doing business with.”
As she spoke, Jarial slipped the snakeskin boots off Ozama’s skeleton and held them toward her. “Magic,” he mouthed. She shook her head in refusal. Her daggers were hidden in her own boots, and she trusted the blades more than any enchantment. After one more pleading look, the mage slipped the boots on his own feet.
“I’ll dispel the darkness once you’re inside,” Preybelish said. The heavy wooden door creaked open.
She glanced at the others. Corran’s hand