Silver Shadows - Elaine Cunningham [116]
"I'm going to put this bundle on the raft and ride, alone, past that encampment. As a moon elf, I'm the most human-looking among us," Arilyn said, forestalling Hawkwing's ready protest. They'll think me a trapper, floating goods downriver to the nearest trading post."
She ran a hand lightly over the glossy pelt of a river otter. "I doubt they'll let me pass by without demanding a few of these beauties as tax. More than likely, they'll shoot me out of the water and take the whole pile.
"But no matter how bad it looks, stay out of sight," she cautioned the elves. "I'll hit the water as soon as I can and swim away. When the mercenaries take their plunder in to examine, they'll have a nasty surprise. Any one of those pelts, pulled away from other others, will trigger an explosion that should blow the top off that hillock."
"Explosion?" queried Hawkwing.
"A sudden blast, like lightning," Ferret explained tersely. "Like that human wizard threw at us in the forest. I didn't know you could cast such spells!" she demanded, turning accusingly on Arilyn.
"I don't," Arilyn retorted. "This isn't even magic- although it's much the same in many ways. I just happen to have an associate who enjoys finding new ways to blow things up."
"Like tossing a torch into rising swamp gas?" Foxfire asked.
"Exactly," she agreed, relieved to have an explanation of alchemy the others could understand. "After the explosion, well revive a few of the survivors. We piece together uniforms, boats, passwords-anything that will help Ferret and me get closer to the fortress."
The half-elf slipped off her chain mail, cloak, and boots and stashed them in the bushes near the stream. Not only would it be difficult to swim wearing such garments, but glittering armor and boots of elvenkind were not exactly the type of gear a poacher might wear!
Arilyn hesitated a moment before adding the rest of her disguise. She'd grown comfortable in her elven role, and she was none too eager to take on another. But she'd fought the men of Bunlap's fortress before. It was likely that few moon elven females passed by, and any one might leave an imprint on their memories-especially one who had handed them a rather embarrassing defeat.
So she took a tiny pot of dark unguent from her pack and spread the cream over her face. She smoothed her hair down over her ears and tied it back at the nape of her neck with a bit of leather thong. Her pack yielded a rough cap, tightly rolled, which she shook out and placed low over her eyes. She loosened her shirt and let it hang over her swordbelt, then rolled up her leggings to her knees. That finished, she placed one hand on her moonblade and brought to mind a gangly, sun-browned human lad. The trio of gasps from the elves told her the blade had done its task.
One of Arilyn's predecessors had endowed the sword with the ability to cast minor glamours over the wield-er. It was a slight effect, a small shifting of perception. Arilyn had learned to work with the moonblade's magic to create a number of personas. Part of the transformation was done with small changes of costume, and she had learned to mimic the stance and movements of each character type she portrayed: a human lad, a courtesan, a gold-elf priestess, and perhaps a half-dozen more. But to the wild elves, her transformation from moon elf warrior to adolescent Tethyrian poacher must have been as startling-and as foreign-as anything a human wizard might accomplish!
But there was no time to soothe their surprise or explain the sword's power. She ordered them to take cover in the bushes and to follow along out of sight. As soon as her companions were away, Arilyn tossed the furs onto the raft and waded into the stream. She knelt on the raft and began to guide it downriver with a long pole.
She was almost abreast of the hillock when the first arrow came at her. It went wide, but the visibility from the narrow strips of window carved into the barracks