Storm of the Dead - Lisa Smedman [7]
Something on the ground caught Q'arlynd's eye. A crystal, winking at him in the moonlight. It was about half the length of his little finger. Hexagonal in cross section, it tapered to a point at each end. Pale blue at one end, it darkened along its length to blue-green. The crystal had fallen into tall grass; but for the moonlight glinting on it, Q'arlynd never would have spotted it.
He waited until the other wizard had walked past the crystal, then cast a divination. The crystal shone with an aura that was almost blinding-a magical radiance that made even the staff's aura seem dim in comparison. Q'arlynd whistled softly as he realized what the crystal must be. A kiira. A lorestone. He wet his lips nervously. The gods only knew what ancient spells it might contain.
The lorestone had to be what the boy was looking for. It had probably been the cause of his mental affliction. A damp black smudge on the side of the crystal matched the one on the boy's forehead.
Q'arlynd levitated the crystal into his pouch and tied the pouch shut. He wasn't about to touch the crystal with his bare hands-not after what it had, in all likelihood, done to the boy.
His prize secure, Q'arlynd drew his dagger and halted the boy by grasping his shoulder. Then he touched the point of his dagger to Eldrinn's chest. One quick push to drive the dagger home, and the staff, the piwafwi, and all the other magical items would be his. Yet for some reason, Q'arlynd couldn't bring himself to do it. Perhaps because Eldrinn's eyes looked so trusting-they reminded Q'arlynd of the look his younger brother had given him, just before Q'arlynd betrayed him.
Q'arlynd lowered his dagger and sighed. Just a short time on the surface, and he was going soft. That's what keeping company with Eilistraee's priestesses did to a male. Made him soft.
But perhaps it was just as well, he told himself. Killing the boy could have brought unwelcome consequences. Though Eldrinn was young, and likely just a novice, someone from his College might come looking for him. If evidence was found of his murder… well, a master of divination would quickly uncover the drow who'd done the deed.
Q'arlynd sheathed his dagger and let the boy trudge in a circle again. As Eldrinn passed him on his circuit, Q'arlynd reached out and plucked the staff from his hands. The boy let it go without protest. Easy as that.
Resting the staff against his shoulder, Q'arlynd waited for Eldrinn to circle back again. He'd remove those magical items, one by one, then leave the boy for the creatures of the High Moor to finish off, he thought. But then he realized that idea, too, had its drawbacks. Monsters didn't carry off magical items; they left them scattered about next to the kill. Any master of divination worthy of the title would take one look at the ravaged body and immediately search for the missing items. Especially for something as powerful as the boy's staff.
Q'arlynd let his hand fall. No, there was only one thing to be done. Teleport Eldrinn back to Sshamath, his magical items unpilfered.
Except, of course, for the kiira. It was a safe bet that Eldrinn hadn't reported finding it to his superiors at the College of Divination. If he had, other wizards would have shown up to claim it. It was likely, therefore, that only Eldrinn knew about the kiira. If whatever afflicted him proved too powerful to dispel, the lorestone would be Q'arlynd's. He could return to the High Moor and "find" it at his leisure.
And if Eldrinn did recover, and guessed that Q'arlynd had pocketed the kiira, perhaps a deal could be struck. Q'arlynd could agree to hand the lorestone over in return for a share of whatever knowledge it held.
He smiled. After two months of fruitless searching, not one but two prizes had dropped into his lap. A kiira-and a mind-damaged wizard, ripe for rescue, whose return to Sshamath might just warrant a reward.
For the time being, he would tuck the kiira away in a place where it