Tangled webs - Elaine Cunningham [33]
The drow's eyes narrowed as she studied the scene. She was frequently amazed at the odd weakness humans had for strong drink. There was not a drow alive who couldn't drink three dwarves under the table, and even drow who overindulged could shake off the effects almost at will. Humans didn't have that type of fortitude, and it seemed to her that those humans least able to handle potent drink had the strongest taste for it. Still, she didn't see how so many humans could drink themselves into oblivion in such short order. Even Fyodor, who could swallow that wretched Rashemaar firewine without ill effect, had succumbed to the night's revelry. He lay in deep slumber. A half-full drinking horn had been thrust point-down into the soft ground beside him.
Liriel crouched at Fyodor's side and took up the drinking horn. She sniffed at the mead, caught the faint scent of the herbs that had been added to it. Since a knowledge of poisons was an important part of any dark elf's education, Liriel recognized the scent of a harmless-but potentsleeping potion.
She was not at all surprised, therefore, when an owl-like hoot came from the "sleeping" Hrolf. At this signal the pirates scrambled to their feet like so many puppets pulled by a single string. The effect was both eerie and comic. Liriel could not help but think of zombies arising from a battlefield in response to a wizard's call.
The men stole down to the banks of a river. Wondering what Hrolfwas up to now, Liriel crept along after the Ruathen. She watched, puzzled, as several of the younger men stripped to the skin and waded into the water. They dove repeatedly, coming up to toss small, shining items to their comrades on the banks. From their talk, Liriel pieced together the story of what had happened earlier that night and what was happening as she watched.
The sacrilege of this act of thievery troubled her, for no Underdark drow would dare to defile an offering to Lloth. From what she had learned since leaVing Menzoberranzan, Liriel surmised that few deities were as vengeful as the Spider Queen. Still, it seemed a large risk to take for mere gold, and she decided to convince the pirates of their error.
Still invisible, Liriel walked among the men and watched as young Bjorn surfaced, a broad grin on his face. He waved a gold armband triumphantly overhead and then tossed it toward the shore. Liriel darted forward and caught the ornament, tucking it quickly beneath the folds of her piwafwi.
To the pirates, it appeared that the ornament had simply disappeared. They fell back from the invisible drow, bugeyed with astonishment and fear.
"Captain, you said there was no river spirit!" a whitefaced Olvir protested.
Bjorn was even more distressed. His thin hands fluttered like birds as he formed signs of warding, over and over. "May Tempus help us! We've angered their god!"
"We haven't thus far!" Hrolf returned, unperturbed. "Think, lads. We've been harvesting the gold every spring for ten years, regular as a crop of rye. No, any spirit that might've made this river a home is long gone!"
"What, then?" demanded ibn.
The captain winked at his first mate, then held out one hand, palm up, as he faced the apparently empty air. "Hand it over, lass. Youll get your share later, same as us all." Liriel smothered a grin. Hrolf's assurances to his men had put her mind at ease, and his quick-witted response to her prank pleased her. Still invisible, she tossed the bracelet to the captain. Its sudden reappearance dealt a second shock to the still-wary men. Then Bjorn figured out what was happening, and he began to chuckle. One by one, the Ruathen caught on. Not all of them, however, were amused by the joke.
"Damn female!" muttered ibn as he turned back to the river. "Should ha' known it was her at the first sign of trouble."
By the time the sun rose, the gold had been safely stowed aboard ship and the pirates had resumed their places among the sleeping revelers. When fmally the scene stirred to reluctant life, none of the Ffolk seemed to find anything