Realms of Shadow - Lizz Baldwin [134]
"But you. What shall I do with you?"
* * * * *
Raki is a liquor not for the faint of heart or stomach. Its taste is foul, even to those used to it, and in some parts of Faerun it is used as rat poison. But it does have the virtue of getting one drunk extremely quickly.
Garmansder and Drashka staggered out of the shadow of the tent against which they had been sitting and came into the afternoon sunshine, casting long shadows across the desert. The air was still warm, but a chill wind was beginning to blow, portending the bleak night to come.
Drashka flung an arm around Garmansder's shoulders.
"So. Wha'sh a fine fellow like you doing working for a… a shpy? Coo'nt you tell something was wrong with him? I mean…" He stopped, turned, and vomited copiously before resuming his speech as if nothing had happened. "I mean wha's he doing wandering around in the middle of the desert? Din't you ever ask?"
Garmansder swayed slightly. "He was paying good gold. A mercenary never asks. Not if he wants to keep being a mershenary." He laughed inanely. "I mean, if it comes to that, what're you doing working for the Zhents out here in the middle o' nowhere?"
Drashka looked around carefully and put a finger against his lips. "Shhh. It's… a… secret!" He nodded impressively. "Wanna know what it is?"
Garmansder shook his head. "Nah. Better not tell, if it's a secret and everything."
"Right. Right. All right, I'll won' tell you." He grabbed Garmansder's arm. "I'll show you."
The two men made their way across the camp to where the scaffolding loomed over the excavation. Activity around the site had ceased, and as the evening grew darker, a few torches flickered around the site, making the gloom seem even blacker. Here and there, campfires glowed. The Bedine had been herded by their Zhentarim overseers back to some unseen camp, but in the distance the two men could hear the unearthly wails of their singing. The sound floated over the desert and hung like crystal in the dark air.
Drashka made his way unsteadily to the edge of the excavation. A flimsy rail ran between the wooden uprights that held the scaffolding in place, and a few torches on long poles thrust into the sand illuminated the scene. The lieutenant staggered, and Garmansder grabbed his arm.
"Careful. You wanna fall?"
Drashka considered the question for a moment then shook his head. "You fall in there, you'd have a long time to think before you bit the bottom. Lissen!"
He groped for a loose stone and dropped it into the pit. Both men held their breaths until at last, far away, magnified by the walls of the shaft, they heard the distant thunk! of stone on stone.
Garmansder nodded, impressed. "So wassit all "bout?" He leaned against an upright and took another draught of raki.
Drashka gestured toward the pit. "We're lookin' for magic. Magic stuff from Netheril. You know. Stuff they lost when the cities fell down and th' empire crashed."
"So?" The mercenary held out the bottle to his companion. "Everbody knows that stuff was lost a long time ago. Why d'you think you can find it now?"
" 'Cause we already found part of it." Drashka swigged from the bottle and snickered. "We already found stuff, and we're gonna bring up more stuff. Magical stuff."
Garmansder snorted. "I'll believe it when I see it."
"Maybe you'd like to see it." Drashka straightened up and hurled the raki bottle into the pit. It smashed against the far side, and the fragments fell into the gulf.
"Hey!" cried the mercenary. "There was more in there!"
"That's all right." The guard's voice was strong, without a trace of slurred, drunken speech. "You can go after it."
He lunged forward with the speed of a striking snake. One hand thrust against the mercenary's shoulder, shoving him back into the blackness beyond the upright. Garmansder shouted, as one hand darted up to clutch at a dangling rope. He swung out and over the pit, then back, landing farther around the rim, some ten feet from where he'd started. A sword was already glittering in his hand when he