Realms of Magic - Brian Thomsen King [137]
The barbarian reeled back, sneezing violently and repeatedly. Liriel took advantage of this development to cast a spell of holding, effectively freezing Vasha in mid-sneeze. That done, the drow stalked over to the ruined bed, plucked her book of rune lore out of the drifting feathers, and shook it before the swordwoman's contorted, immobile face.
"This is what led you here, you blazing idiot! This book describes rune magic, of a sort that no one has cast for hundreds of years. You're chasing the wrong damned wizard!"
Liriel took a long, deep breath to compose her wits and calm her temper. Then she snapped her fingers, and at once the room's dim candlelight was eclipsed by floating globes of white faerie fire. In the sudden bright light, her delicate, elven face shone like polished ebony. She tucked her abundant white hair behind the elegantly pointed ears that proclaimed her race, then propped her fists on her hips.
"Tell me," the drow purred with silky sarcasm, "do I really look like a runecaster from the Red Bear Clan?"
Vasha did not offer an opinion, but some of the blood-lust faded from her trapped eyes. Liriel took this as a good sign. Nevertheless, she pried the sword from the barbarian's hands and hurled it into a far corner before releasing the spell of holding. She had an offer for Vasha, and, in her experience, people tended to bargain much more reasonably when they were unarmed.
"I tell you, Liriel, daughter of Sosdrielle, daughter of Maleficent, the runecaster is near," insisted Vasha. The vile Toth, son of Alfgar, misbegotten upon Helda, the goddess of boars, whilst she was in human form – or so Alfgar claims – is in this very city." The barbarian's voice was slightly fuzzy now, and her ruddy face glowed with the combined warmth of the tavern's fires and too much dwarven brew. Still, she spoke with a conviction that rattled the globe on their table's oil lamp.
The drow leaned back in her chair and signaled for another round of drinks. A half-ore servant hastened over with two more foaming mugs. Vasha threw back her head and quaffed her ale without once coming up for air. She slammed the empty mug on the table and ripped out a resounding belch.
Liriel sighed. The swordwoman had a prodigious thirst and an apparently endless capacity for dwarven ale. Although Vasha's tongue loosened a bit with each mug, Liriel feared that the barbarian would drain the tavern's cellars before giving up anything useful.
"Believe me, magical travel can be tricky, and in your case something went wrong," the drow explained for the eleventh time. After two hours of this, Liriel was clinging to her patience by her fingernails. Fate had handed her a priceless opportunity to learn of the Rus firsthand, but she found herself less grateful than she probably should have been. "Listen, Vasha: I'll try to help you get home, but first you must tell me more about your people's magic."
The swordwoman scowled and reached for her companion's untouched mug. "I am Vasha, daughter of Hani-gard-"
Liriel slammed the table with both fists. "I know who you are, for the love of Lloth! Just get to the blasted point!" ' "Some warriors of the Rus know rune magic. My family is not among them," the swordwoman said bluntly. "We spit upon magic, and those who wield it rather than honest weapons. Even the sword I carry, passed down to me upon the glorious death of Hanigard, queen of the ice water raiders-"
"What. About. The sword?" Liriel prompted from between clenched teeth.
"It cleaves through magic, as you have seen. That is all the rune lore I know, or care to know."
The drow slumped. Things were not turning out quite as she'd expected. In exchange for knowledge of rune magic, she had offered to shepherd Vasha around Skull-port. Vasha admitted that a guide might be useful, but she was adamant about finding this Toth before passing on any magical secrets.
"Let's go over this one more time," Liriel said wearily. "Why do you insist that your runecaster is in Skullport? And why did you promise me rune lore, if you