The Dragon's Doom - Ed Greenwood [20]
Craer had been conducting his own search of a handy body-that of a tall, well-dressed carter he'd seen hanging back from most of the fighting, doing more swaying and sweating than anything else. The man had the look of some wealth, so his purse might come in handy.
The procurer had drawn on one of the pairs of soft, tight leather gloves he always carried ready in belt-pouches. Those gloved hands had been gliding here and there up and down the corpse like busy spiders, but paused suddenly. "This one has scales," Craer reported grimly.
Embra exchanged unhappy glances with her father this time. By the set of Blackgult's jaw, he welcomed this news no more than she did.
"Magic, then," she said softly, "but what magic? Another evil Serpent sending, probably-but if not, whose dark reaching this time?"
Blackgult shrugged, and waved to Embra and her fellow sorceress to ride with him a little way on, to the crest of the rise.
Lacking shovels to do burials, Hawkril and Craer carried the corpses to the deepest part of the ditch, the procurer busily expropriating purses and serviceable-looking knives and daggers as they worked. Hawk propped the man he'd stunned into a sitting position against a tree, a little way along the trail from where they put the dead.
"We haven't seen any Snake-lovers recently," Craer said thoughtfully, taking the ankles of the corpse Hawkril was hefting.
"Oh?" the armaragor rumbled. "If they take off those robes and put on something that hides any scales, how would we know? They don't have to hiss and cackle, do they now?"
Craer grunted agreement as they let the body fall, and started back for another.
The merchant's wife set down her wine untasted. "What can be keeping him? Lessra, go you and fetch the master! Tell him the wine is poured, it grows late, and we've a long day ahead on the morrow."
Her maidservant hovered attentively, awaiting more instructions, until the goodwife lost her patience and snapped, "Go!"
Nathalessra went, passing out of the candlelit chamber like a hurrying shadow.
Her mistress sighed and gave the nearest candle a glare. Had Colbert got himself drunk again? How long did it take a man to dress in his finest? Why, he'd promised her this night of love on and off for two moons now! Always too busy, always another wagon to load or unload, until now there was just this last night before the ride to Sirlptar, and she'd put it to him bluntly-nay, begged him like a common trollop, almost in tears… truly in tears, after a frown had crossed his face. Why, 'twas as if Nathalessra screamed.
High, raw, and… cut off, abruptly. Wetly.
The goodwife frowned. "Lessra? Lessra! What've you found? What's he up to?"
There was no reply.
"Lessra?"
The candles flickered, but no answer came. With something approaching a growl the goodwife rose and made for the door. If Colbert had finally taken to pawing her own maidservant right under her nose, she'd Something came through the door before she reached it. Something low and long-snouted, with fur that glistened with blood. Its claws left bloody prints as it came, moving slowly and heavily.
Two yellow eyes gleamed hungrily at her over what was dangling from its many-fanged jaws: Nathalessra's staring, blood-dripping head.
It flopped loosely, still attached to one shoulder. The rest of the maid's body was nowhere to be seen; those fangs were long enough to pierce right through flesh.
The beast was still coming toward her menacingly, as large as the table behind her. As it came out into the full candlelight-long before she backed into the table and lost her footing and it loomed up over her-the goodwife screamed.
The beast was wearing the torn and shredded