The Floodgate - Elaine Cunningham [118]
His heart ached for the king, and for the strange, sad woman whom Zalathorm loved.
"Every Halruaan is entitled to magical examination," the wizard-king said coldly. "Surely the queen has the same rights as a fisherwoman!"
Before Procopio could protest, Matteo stepped forward. "The king is caught between two necessities. How can he defend both his queen and his country?
Let this matter rest until our borders are secure."
"Halruaan justice is swift," Procopio reminded him.
"If it is too swift, it may not be justice at all," Matteo retorted.
A murmur of agreement moved through the room. "I suggest a compromise," said a tall, flame-haired woman. "The queen must be imprisoned until the invasion is repelled and this other matter given proper attention."
Zalathorm nodded slowly. "That is fair. Take her to the palace towers and place around her spells of binding. That is all. Now go-all of you know what must be done. May Mystra grant us strength."
In a quiet voice, one that barely reached the ears of the jordain at his side, the king whispered, "May Keturah forgive me."
Matteo started at the familiar name. His gaze leaped to Zalathorm's face, and read confirmation in the king's sad brown eyes.
There was no time for questions. He bowed to his king, then turned away to follow Procopio's quick, staccato retreat.
*****
In the very heart of Akhlaur's Swamp, the undine lay panting on the edge of the deep pool, her black tresses hanging lank about her too-pale face. Gems lay in bright heaps beside her, treasures from the sunken tower.
These riches were hard won. Strange magic lurked in the waters of Akhlaur's swamp, power sufficient to raise Andris's slain comrades into zombie guardians.
The undine had apparently run into other guardians. Her arms were a map of angry red welts, and a thin tentacle, still twitching, tangled in her hair.
Andris picked it out carefully, self-consciously. His own fingers were nearly as translucent as this remnant of a jellyfish. "A man-of-war," he said. "The poison will kill a man. I don't know how much damage it will deal a creature of water and air."
"Enough," Nadage said sternly. "The undine must rest until tomorrow."
"One more try," Kiva insisted. She described to the undine the gem that must be retrieved, its possible location within the tower. "This will open the floodgate. I swear it! Find it, and the plunder of Akhlaur's tower will be complete."
The elves exchanged glances. "It is for the undine to say."
The exhausted sprite nodded and dived deep. Time passed, and the shadows of night began to creep over the swamp. Finally one of the elves gasped and pointed.
A limp form floated amid a swath of black lilies. Andris dived in and pulled the undine to shore. The elf shaman bent over the fey creature, then shook her head. "She lives, but not for long."
Kiva stooped and jerked the bag from the dying creature's belt. She tugged open the string and spilled the contents onto her open palm. A large, perfect emerald caught the last rays of the dying day. A smile of satisfaction crossed the elf's face, and her eyes went utterly cold.
Chanting a spell, she dropped to her knees. She placed a tiny vial on the undine's chest and then fisted both hands in the delicate white feathers that framed the creature's shoulders. With a quick, vicious tug she wrenched them free.
The undine's entire body buckled in a spasm of agony, and she was gone.
Nothing remained of her but the feathers in Kiva's hands and the glowing vial on the shore.
The elves stood in shocked horror. Kiva ignored them and tipped the vial to her lips. The glowing liquid disappeared, as wings sprouted from Kiva's shoulders. Andris had never seen such a spell, but it was not difficult to understand what Kiva had done. She had stolen the undine's life-force, and, at least for a time, the ability of the creature to live in the water.
Elven steel hissed free, and every blade pointed at Kiva's heart. She spat out a trigger word, and instantly the weapons flamed red with heat.