Tangled webs - Elaine Cunningham [92]
This, also, seemed to raise Liriel in the estimation of the Ruathen, for many nodded with pride and approval as Fyodor spoke of the drow's efforts to learn their ancient lore, and of the rune quest that had led them both to this place. The fire had burned down to glowing embers by the time Fyodor's tale came to a close. At a signal from Aumark, the people slipped quietly away from the gathering to their own cottages, many of them carrying sleeping children. Hrolrs cousin, whose stem expression seemed out of place on a face so like that of the jovial captain, rose and stalked from the clearing without so much as a word to the pirate. Dagmar expressed a wish to linger, but her father spoke a few sharp words in a language Liriel could not understand. The Ruathen girl's jaw set with displeasure, but she nonetheless rose and obediently followed her sire, leaving Hrolf alone with Liriel and Fyodor. For the first time since setting foot on Ruathym, the drow had a chance to speak her mind.
"Well, what's to come of all this?" she demanded.
Hrolf grimaced and shrugged. "You're here, lass, and so far no one's taken it upon themselves to run you back into the sea. That's more progress than you'll know! And the lad's words helped. But my kinsman Ulf-good-looking lad, but stubborn as a snail--didn't take to the idea of teaching rune magic to an elf woman."
This news was not unexpected, but it was nonetheless disheartening. Liriel's shoulders slumped, and she hissed a drow curse from between clenched teeth.
"Now, don't you be fretting," Hrolf admonished her. "Ulf will come around! He's a good lad and not one to be following the thinking of other men. Give him time to make up his mind about you."
"And until then?" she inquired bitterly.
"Let me see," the captain mused, stroking his beard in a parody of thoughtfulness. "You must've gone clean through those books of yours during the trip. Might it be that you're wanting more?" he asked slyly.
The drow's eyes lit up, and Hrolf grinned. "Then tomorrow 1l1 take you to the Green Room. We've a fine library, filled with books and scrolls from all over. Don't rightly know what's in it, myself; but you're welcome to root around."
"i had not heard Ruathym to be a place for scholars," Fyodor observed.
The pirate shrugged. "Didn't set out to be that, but you never know what treasures you might fmd when boarding a ship or raiding a keep. To most folk here, the Green Room is just another kind of treasure heap. Valuable as gems those books might be, but they're of no practical use to us simple sailors and fisherfolk."
"Can you wait until later in the day to explore this treasure?" Fyodor asked the drow. "We have been asked to go with some young folk to inthar come morning. I think we should go."
"Bad business, that," Hrolf cautioned. "Best to keep away from those ruins."
"Are my ears failing me, or did an old woman's words come from the lips of Hrolf the Unruly?" inquired a new and jovial voice behind them.
The three friends turned to face the newcomer. The man approaching them had thick braids of pale ash brown, and a bluff and cheerful face marked by keen gray eyes and a well-tended short beard. He was taller than Fyodor by a handspan and had the same stocky, thick-muscled frame. He was dressed in leathers and armed as if for battle. A broadsword was strapped to his back, and a well-loaded weapons belt encircled his waist and crossed in an X over his massive chest. A one-handed battle-axe hung on one hip, and a large iron hammer-tipped with a broad, flat disk ofmithril on one side and a wicked, spiked claw on the other-bounced on the opposite side.
"Wedigar!" roared Hrolf in welcome, extending both hands to clasp the man's wrist in a warriors greeting. "it's glad i am to see you again, lad. What brings you to the village?"
The man's bearded face turned sober. "You know that Thorfinn was killed," he began.