Pool of Radiance_ Ruins of Myth Drannor - Carrie Bebris [8]
“Kestrel!” The guard lowered his bow. “You’re late!”
“I-I am?” She glanced from one member of the trio to the next. The paladin still regarded her warily, but the mage appeared suddenly guilt-stricken. The guard actually looked as if he were greeting an old friend. Did she know him-all of them-from somewhere?
“Er… yes. I am late,” she stated boldly. “I apologize. Profusely. Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”
“We weren’t so much waiting as concerned,” the guard said. “I thought maybe you arrived before us and something happened.” He removed his helm, revealing coarse blond locks, a square jaw, and a neck thickly corded with muscles. “My name’s Durwyn. Like you, I volunteered to stand watch here.”
Volunteered? When in her life had she volunteered for anything? A sense of dread swept her. “Just… um, when did you volunteer for this duty, Durwyn?”
“Last night. Elminster told my commander that you and two others would be here today.”
Damn and double-damn Nat’s firewine! She’d actually gone to see Elminster and now couldn’t remember what transpired. What in the world had she gotten herself into?
The paladin cleared his throat to draw her attention from Durwyn. “Tell me if you would, Kestrel, what you were doing skulking about if you indeed came to stand guard with us?”
A fair question, but his tone chafed nonetheless. The inflections of his voice suggested noble birth. Holy warrior or not, if he thought she’d tolerate arrogant condescension very long, he was sorely mistaken.
She lifted her chin. “Spying on you, of course. You don’t expect me to put my trust in people I know nothing about, do you? I was trying to judge what sort of folk I’m to work with.”
“Honest ones. Which, I imagine, is more than we can expect from you.”
She bit back the retort she would have liked to let fly. Paladins of Tyr, if indeed that’s what this knight was, were known for their self-righteous sense of honor and justice. Rogues avoided them like the gallows. “You mind tossing me your name between all the insults?”
“Corran D’Arcey, Defender of Tyr the Even-Handed, and third son of Baron Ethelred D’Arcey of Sarshel.”
So, she’d guessed correctly. A paladin of Tyr and a blue-blood. She held his gaze without blinking, determined to show him that his titles did not intimidate her. “I’ll just call you Corran for short.”
“And I’ll just-”
“Aren’t we supposed to be guarding a pool here, Corran?” she asked.
The rebuke silenced him for a beat. “Yes, we are,” he said tightly. He sheathed his sword and strode back to stand nearer the water.
In the awkward quiet that ensued, Durwyn shrugged and followed him.
Kestrel was disappointed to be left standing with the sorceress and not the guard. Durwyn seemed kind but not particularly bright-the perfect source to pump for more information about what she’d gotten herself into. The spellcaster, on the other hand, made her nervous.
The mage, who had not yet spoken to Kestrel, drew back her cowl. By her gold-flecked blue eyes and slightly pointed ears, Kestrel guessed her to be of partial elven descent. Moon elf, judging from the bluish tinge to her ears and chin. “I am Ghleanna Stormlake,” she said. “Had I known your identity, I would not have thrown that spell.”
Kestrel could not tell whether Ghleanna’s words held contrition or criticism. Was she supposed to have strutted into the tower declaiming her name?
“Apology accepted,” she said, whether one had been offered or not. Then, deciding Ghleanna could prove informative, she added, “I should have arrived on time.”
The mage’s lips formed a half-smile. “Elminster told me you might have a… headache… when you awoke.”
Kestrel felt her face grow warm. She’d not only been drunk but also obvious about it. No doubt the wizard had taken advantage of her compromised state to coerce her into this volunteer duty. She thought of the conversation she’d overhead as she arrived in the cavern earlier. “Elminster seems to tell you a lot of things.”
“I am one of