Realms of Magic - Brian Thomsen King [142]
"This is indeed a strange place," she marveled.
Liriel nodded her approval. "Well, praise the Dark Lady. You're finally catching on." -.
* * * * *
But Vasha the Red's insight proved to be shallow and fleeting. The warrior woman continued to meet every obstacle with a ready sword and a snarl of contempt. By the time the hour for evenfeast rolled around, they were no closer to finding the elusive Toth than they'd been at the onset of their quest. On the other hand, Vasha had hacked a sentient jelly into quivering globs, dueled to the death an ill-mannered ettin, surgically dampened the ardor of several pirates on shore leave, and trimmed the wings from the shoulders of a small but aggressive wyvern, after which she'd advised the creature's dumbfounded wizard master to have the hide tanned and made into a decent pair of boots. In short, only through a mixture of dumb luck and brute strength did she and Liriel survive the day.
When she could bear no more, the drow steered her charge into the Burning Troll. It was a pricey tavern, but the food was good, the halfling servants were prompt, and the patrons could be reasonably sure of an entertaining brawl. As soon as they were seated, Liriel ordered roast fowl and bread, wine, and a bowl of cold water. She plucked the stone coin from Vasha's hand and threw it into the bowl. The hot fragment met the water with a hiss of protest, and then subsided. Liriel wished that the human could be as reasonable.
"Forget about the coin for now," the drow insisted. "You can't continue running around Skullport, following a piece of rock and killing whomever you please."
"Why not? I've done just so these many hours."
"And we have so much to show for it," Liriel returned with acid sarcasm.
The barbarian could not dispute this failing. "So?" she said gruffly.
"I know wizards," the drow asserted. "This Toth seems to be an especially slippery specimen. To catch him, we'll need planning, subtlety, treachery. I know of some people who for the right price…"
Her voice trailed off, for it was clear that the sword-woman was no longer listening. Vasha's dangerously narrowed eyes were fixed upon the bowl of water meant to cool the stone fragment. It was now at a full boil. Steam rose from the roiling surface, and the stone tumbled in the churning water.
"We need!" the barbarian roared in a scathing echo, sweeping her hand toward the tavern's entrance. "I need nothing but my sword. Behold Toth, son of Alfgar!"
Liriel beheld. An involuntary smile curved her lips as she did so, for standing just inside the door was Vasha's male counterpart: tall, muscular, flame-haired, and dressed with no more regard for modesty than the warrior. On him, the drow noted with approval, it looked good. But she wondered, fleetingly, where he carried his spell components.
The runecaster was not at all cowed by the spectacle of an enraged Vasha. He sauntered directly over to their table. With insolent ease, he conjured a third chair and straddled it.
"By what fell magic did you find me?" demanded the warrior. Her face and voice were as fierce as usual, but Liriel suspected that Vasha was both embarrassed and unnerved at being caught off guard. Liriel was none too happy about that, herself. She'd spent the day in Vasha's wake, too busy trying to stay alive to realize that the runecaster had been leading them on a merry chase. He apparently had a devious streak, something that the drow understood very well and should have recognized.
"Greetings, Red Vasha," Toth said amiably. "I heard you were in town and assumed you were looking for me, so I followed the trail of destruction to its source."
"If you are so eager for battle, then let it begin," snarled the swordwoman. "I challenge you to a contest of honest steel!"
Toth cast a wry look in Liriel's direction. "Notice she did not suggest a battle of wits. Our Vasha