The Dream Spheres - Elaine Cunningham [71]
"I have had enough of this dwarf," Elaith said firmly. "Why should we fight to amuse him? Let's kill him quickly, then have done with this."
"Nay." Rhep spat bloody foam at the elf's boots. "I wouldn't join you in a lifeboat!" He drew back his sword for another stroke.
The elf ducked under a slashing backhanded blow. As he came up, his sword sliced a thin line from the man's shoulder to elbow.
"Good hit," Ebenezer congratulated. "Took you long enough."
The dwarf's taunting stung, though Elaith took it as more an insult to his wits than his fighting prowess. Determined to end the matter, Elaith landed a stinging smack to Rhep's cheek with the flat of his dagger.
"Listen," he snapped and then stepped back.
The sounds of a caravan readying for departure drifted to them, barely audible over Rhep's labored breathing.
"I do not intend to walk to Silverymoon," Elaith said. "If I kill you now, that's what I'd have to do. Leave this for another time, and let's get on with the matters at hand."
He sheathed his daggers and began to walk back to camp. Rhep let him pass, then lunged at the elf's back.
The attack was drearily predictable. Elaith's patience snapped. He sidestepped and seized the man's wrist as it thrust past. He turned, twisting the arm behind Rhep's back. The sword clattered to the ground, and the mercenary fell to his knees, his arm held unnaturally high. Elaith jerked up higher still. Rhep's arm parted from its shoulder with an audible pop. The man shouted once in pain and outrage, then sagged to the ground, senseless.
Elaith whirled toward the dwarf, but Ebenezer had disappeared.
For a moment Elaith considered pursuit, but he had little doubt of the plan laid against him. The dwarf would no doubt return to the caravan, bearing word that Bronwyn and Elaith-who had been seen sharing a secluded campfire-had decided to go off on their own. If Elaith showed up without her, he would be called upon to explain what had become of the woman. No one would believe he was innocent of foul play. Certainly not once they managed to round up their captain and saw the state he was in.
With a hiss of frustration, Elaith turned aside and melted off into the trees. Moving lightly among the forest shadows, he skirted the camp and headed toward the city below.
The sun was high above the Moonbridge when Elaith arrived in Silverymoon, alone and in a foul temper. He asked directions of a passing town crier, then wove through the streets to a shop bearing a sign depicting a multifaceted gem.
He strode into the antechamber and toward the locked door. The two guards flanking it eyed the grimly approaching elf warily. Elaith threw a pair of knives without breaking stride. Both men jerked upright, pinned through their throats to the door frame.
The elf batted aside the flailing hand of one of the dying men. He pivoted on his right foot and kicked out hard with his left. The door flew open with a sound like a thunderclap.
Mizzen himself was behind the counter, stroking his billy-goat beard with apparent satisfaction. He froze when the elf exploded into the shop, then let out a little bleat of alarm. With a quick, frantic burst of speed, he lunged for the bellpull behind him.
Elaith kept coming, another knife poised in his hand. He hurled it, pinning the cord to the wall. "For form's sake," he told the shrinking merchant. "The alarm would do you little good."
"The guard-" began Mizzen.
"My apologies," the elf said with a mocking little bow. "They are still standing at their post, if that is any consolation."
The merchant paled, then panicked. He reached under the counter, seized handfuls of crystals and gems, and began to pelt the elf with them.
Elaith batted aside a few of the missiles, then snatched a large hunk of jasper from the air and hurled it