Silver Shadows - Elaine Cunningham [46]
"High-sun and two," Korrigash gritted out, naming a time of day and a direction.
Reflexively, his friend snapped up his bow and loosed an arrow ahead and to his right. The swirling smoke parted to reveal a human fighter, an elf-bolt buried in his gut and a look of surprise on hie face. In his hand was a length of chain-still whirling-that he'd been preparing to launch at Foxfire. The impromptu weapon wrapped around the human's arm with a sickening thud and a crack of bone. When the human opened his mouth to scream, all that emerged was a sudden bright gush.
Foxfire turned away from the sight, for the death of his enemies gave him no pleasure. He touched the other elf's arm in silent thanks and pulled his dagger. Suddenly there was no more time for words. The battle closed around them with a hellish cacophony: a roaring of flames, the shrieks of rage and pain, and the deafening pounding of their own blood against their ears. The two elves spun and stood back to back to confront together a horror that both had long feared and neither understood:
A war against the humans.
The door of the Breaching Whale tavern slammed open, sending shudders through the many-paned windows that fronted the dock. An elf woman burst into the taproom as if she'd been thrust through the door by the winds of a freak summer storm. She was uncommonly tall for an elf, white-skinned and raven-haired-a startling coloring common to the moon people. Vivid blue eyes flamed like wizard fire as she stalked across the suddenly silent room,
Sandusk Truffledigger, the halfling barkeep, watched warily as the elf woman descended upon him with the force of a funnel cloud.
"Where is Carreigh Macumail?" she demanded, punctuating her question by slamming both hands upon the polished wooden counter.
The halfling was gratified to note that her voice, a melodic alto despite her anger, was definitely that of a half-elf-not as flat as a human's tones, but lacking the music and magic of an elven voice. Elves and human? both were trouble, but to Sandusk's way of thinking ai L elf-human hybrid was to be preferred over a pure-blooded version of either variety. Half-elves were treated well enough in Zazesspur, but they walked a thin rope and most of them knew it. The ever-increasing racial conflicts of Tethyr put half-elves in a tenuous position that prompted them to watch their manners and mind then-own affairs.
This one, however, seemed determined to be the exception. When the barkeep did not answer fast enough to suit her, the half-elf seized his tunic with both hands and pulled him up over the bar until they were eye-to-eye.
"I know and appreciate the Breached Whale's reputation for protecting its patrons, and I assure you I have no intention of harming Captain Macumail," she said softly. "You, however, are another matter entirely. Now talk."
"He's gone!" the barkeep squeaked. "He left!"
Arilyn gave him a sharp shake. "I know that. I also know that he routinely informs you of his next destination. Tell me, or I'll skewer you like a roasting rabbit!"
"But I'm a halfling," Suldusk protested in a piercing whine that carried to every corner of the tavern. He had long ago learned that those larger than he could easily be shamed, and like most halflings he doled out guilt with a lavish hand. "I'm but half your size!"
The half-elf smiled coldly. "So I'll use a short sword," Suldusk considered the grim practicality of this solution. "He's not gone far," he said in tones more modulated toward discretion. "Mist-Walker raised anchor just this morning. Captain Macumail said something about hooking up with some pirate-hunters. Might be that you could still catch him."
Arilyn stared at the halfling for a moment; then she gave a curt nod and lowered him to the floor. She turned and strode from the tavern. Without pause, she went to the edge of the dock and dove cleanly into the water.
One of the bemused patrons shook his head and snorted. "By the wounds