Tangled webs - Elaine Cunningham [128]
A grin of wicked anticipation spread across Liriel's face as she pictured Sanja's astonishment and ire. The stolid Northwoman could throw an impressive tantrum. Liriel had observed a most entertaining example ofSanja's talents earlier, when she and Ulfhad crept into the cottage in the waning hours of night. Granted, the woman's rage was not as colorful and violent as those favored by drow priestesses, for the dark elves could punctuate their shrieking diatribes with the lashes of a snake-headed whip and bursts of magical fury. But the Northwoman did what she could with the resources she had-Liriel had to grant her that/
it was something to look forward to, anyway, in a day that had unquestionably gotten off to a bad start.
Rethnor was still abed in his room in Vestress's palace when the door to his room exploded inward. The portal shattered into a storm of sparkling crystal that showered his bed and clattered to the marble floor. One jagged shard pierced the arm he instinctively flung up to shield his face. The High Captain swore as he tore out the splinter and cast it aside. He leaped to his feet and lunged for the sword that he kept always ready beside his bed. Bringing it up in guard position, he faced down the intruder.
Shakti stood in the ruined doorway, clutching a smoking pitchfork in her hands as if it were a spear. Her dark face was livid as she advanced on the captain.
"Three days you have been in the Night Above," she shrieked, "and what have you accomplished? You have returned to Ascarle without Liriel Baenre. Show me how you will bring me my prey, or die now by my hands/"
in response, the captain lunged forward, blade leading. He stabbed between the pitchfork's tines and then spun his body sharply to one side. The speed and strength of his attack tore the weapon from the drow's grip. It fell to the floor with a sharp clatter.
"Die by your hands?" he taunted her.
"Or yours, if you prefer," the drow hissed from between clenched teeth. She thrust both hands out, thumbs entwined, and then slapped her palms sharply together.
A familiar tingle started in Rethnor's new hand and sent a shiver of dread into his very soul. Once again the treacherous limb abandoned him to the power of the dark elf's foul magic. He watched in helpless rage as his sword hand lifted his blade and placed the edge against his throat.
"How will you deliver Liriel Baenre?" demanded Shakti as she stalked in closer. "Tell me all you have done, and plan to do, or die now!"
Rethnor did not doubt the drow's sincerity of purpose, i and he spoke with all candor. "i have contacted my spy on ~ the island and know at last the drow wizard's weakness. ~ She has a human lover-the very warrior who took my hand," he admitted grudgingly. "By all reports, the elf i woman is very loyal to her friends. If this man is captured, she will certainly come after him."
The priestess looked doubtful. "She is drow. Why would she care for the welfare of a human male?"
"You have a better suggestion?" Rethnor asked this with less sarcasm that he might have employed-it seemed a prudent choice, considering the sword at his throat.
"Kill him," Shakti advised coldly. "if he is an interesting lover, the loss will anger her, and she will seek vengeance." Rethnor considered. This reasoning struck him as sound, given his own rather casual attitude toward his bedmates, and his experience with this particular dark elf:
"it will be as you say," the captain promised. "The time for the invasion nears, and tonight the berserkers of Hoigerstead will die. All of them," he added with grim