The Dream Spheres - Elaine Cunningham [115]
One of the maids snatched up a coverlet and draped it around Isabeau's shoulders. "What happened, my lady? Are you hurt?"
Isabeau sent her audience a tremulous smile. "No, thanks to your quick response. A man came in through the balcony. I think he just meant to rob me, but the statues came awake, and they fought. It was terrible, terrible!"
The maid clicked her tongue soothingly. "Rest, lady. As you've seen, the master's magic will keep you safe."
"I cannot stay here after this!" Isabeau exclaimed in astonishment. "Saddle my horse at once."
"But dawn is hours away," one of the men protested. He wavered before Isabeau's steady gaze and conceded, "We could send a guard with you."
"I would be most grateful. Perhaps you could see to the arrangements, while I dress?" she hinted.
The servants retreated, leaving Isabeau alone and furious. She threw open the doors of the wardrobe and began to toss rich garments onto the bed as she considered what her next step should be. Without Oth as a protector, she was in a delicate position. That wretched half-elf had surprised a reaction from her that might tie her to the theft of the air caravan.
Much good had that done her! The treasure was lost. The goods had been moved to Skullport, but they had been stolen before Diloontier could claim them for her. Or so he said. Isabeau would not be at all surprised to learn that the perfume merchant had double-crossed her.
So now what? She had no treasure, very little money, and a pair of diligent hounds on her trail. Isabeau had witnessed how relentless Arilyn and her handsome companion could be in pursuit of one of their little crusades. She muttered curses as she dragged a small traveling chest out from under the bed and began to hurl her new, stolen wardrobe into it.
"You are quick to take what is not yours," observed a cold, male voice behind her.
Isabeau gasped and whirled, one hand at her throat. A tall, slender figure stood in the shadows, smiling with icy amusement.
Her heart leaped painfully, then picked up the rhythm at a shallow, frantic pace. A strange giddiness overtook her, and the floor tilted as if it were an enchanted carpet on the verge of taking flight. She seized the bed curtain for support.
"You!" she gasped on a short, sharp breath. "It was you who pursued me!"
"Clearly, this is more of a surprise to you that it should be," the intruder said.
"What are you going to do with me?" she said in a tremulous voice.
His laugh was equally resonant of music and scorn. "Please. The role of delicate maiden does not suit you. I am not going to kill you."
"Then what?"
"This is a warning, nothing more. Do not pursue the dream spheres. I will brook no more interference."
Isabeau seized what seemed a likely distraction. "You will suffer interference regardless of what I do. Two meddlers are already on the trail. You know them well. Arilyn the half-elf, and Lord Thann."
This news was received in silence. He lifted one hand, displaying a small glowing sphere. "If they cross me, they will die-but not before I learn what death they fear most."
She laughed scornfully, a bit of bravado that went a long way toward restoring her spirits. "So much for the vaunted concept of honor among peers."
With the speed of a striking snake, his open hand shot toward her. Isabeau turned with the blow so that it barely grazed her cheek. The intruder reined in his anger with visible effort.
"Do not press me," he said in a low voice quivering with rage. "Heed well my words. I do not wish to see you again, but I might yet have use for you. The tides in the southlands have turned, and you will be welcomed in your homeland. Find your way there as soon as possible."
There was a puff of acrid smoke, then a soft hissing sound as air rushed to fill the void left by the shadowy figure's disappearance. The sudden wind swirled