Song of the Saurials - Kate Novak [4]
The door swung open slowly. A female halfling stood in the doorway. Her hazel eyes sparkled, and she winked conspiratorially as she slid a copper wire into her russet hair. "Nice ditty," she quipped. "Has it got any lyrics?"
"Naturally," the prisoner replied, relaxing his angry face. "Would you like me to write them down for you, Mistress Ruskettle?" he asked.
"That'd be great," the small woman said, stepping into the cell. She pushed the door almost, but not quite, closed behind her. Her furry bare feet padded silently across the plush wool Calimshan carpeting. She slipped off her knapsack and her wet cloak and checked to be sure the back of her tunic and pants were dry before seating herself on a tapestry-covered footstool.
The Nameless Bard lay the chordal horn down on the table. "Come in. Mistress Ruskettle. Have a seat and make yourself at home," he said, though he knew sarcasm was wasted on half-lings in general and on Olive Ruskettle in particular.
"Thank you. Nameless," Olive replied. "Nice quarters you have here," she said as her eyes inspected the polished furniture, the velvet drapes, the brass-bound clothes chest, the silk bedspread, the gold candelabrum, the crystal wine decanter, and all the other luxuries Nameless's captors had provided for his cell. "You're looking well," she added, grinning at the fine silken shirt, fur-trimmed tunic, wool pants, and leather boots he wore.
Nameless grinned back as he seated himself cross-legged on the bed. He never could remain annoyed with Olive for long. She had, after all, rescued him from the dungeon of the cruel sorceress Cassana and also helped him free his singer, Alias, from Cassana. It wasn't just gratitude, however, that made him fond of the halfling thief; Olive's brash nerve amused him. It reminded him of himself.
"What have you been up to?" the bard asked. "It's been over a year since I've seen you last."
"Yes. Sorry about that. This summer's been rather chaotic, as you've probably heard. I was staying with friends in Immersea, who talked me out of traveling until the trouble died down. If I'd known you were wasting away in prison, I would have come sooner," the halfling said. From a silver bowl piled with fruit, she plucked a large, juicy plum and ate the delicacy in several dainty, but quick, bites.
"My imprisonment is a mere formality until the new trial is over," Nameless said. "That door wasn't even kept locked until that old bat Morala arrived and caused a stink."
"She's the priestess of Milil?" Olive asked. "The one who has it in for you?"
"You've met?" Nameless asked.
"I've seen her around."
"Have you seen Alias?"
"Actually, I came to see you the moment I hit town," Olive said. The halfling didn't care much for Alias. Olive realized, however, that Nameless thought of the singing swordswoman as a daughter, so in an effort to be polite, she asked the bard, "How is dear Alias?"
"I don't know," Nameless huffed. "She and Dragonbait arrived in Shadowdale a day after Morala, and Morala won't allow me any visitors. How did you get past the guard at the tower gate?"
"You know," the halfling said, pulling out a silver pin from her cloak pocket,
"it really is amazing how much respect the local constabulary has for this silly harp-and-moon symbol, even when it's pinned to the breast of a short person with no visible weapons."
Nameless grinned at the irony. He'd given the halfling thief his old Harper's pin. According to custom. Olive would need him to vouch for her until she was accepted by the other Harpers, but he was a disgraced Harper. Now she'd used the pin to break a rule made by Morala-a Master Harper. There was nothing like the chaos a halfling-or a woman-could cause, Nameless thought, and Olive is both.
"You realize," Nameless asked aloud, "you'll have some problems being accepted