The Kingless Land - Ed Greenwood [101]
Hawkril made a face. If that was the man's purse, he didn't work for a generous master. He plucked it away from around the man's ears, laid it on the ground, and stripped away the thong to tie the man's thumbs and smallest fingers together, at full stretch over the forester's head.
All of these false foresters, it seemed, were wearing-under cloaks and tunics that had probably come from true foresters they'd slain-leather coats pierced with many rings that held odd plates of salvaged armor to them. Hawkril yanked his captive's tunic and armor coat down over the man's head. He looked at the dangling man for a moment, then nodded and emptied the purse out onto a rock.
"Hardly worth it," Craer commented, as he reappeared through the trees, wearing a satisfied look. "A few copper blestrans, one silverstar, and-hmm: a badge of Cardassa. Well, that saves us the time of questioning this fellow-this lot must be Baron Cardassa's attempt to seize the Stone… or part of it; I suspect a wizard or two lurking about somewhere."
Hawkril looked at his dangling captive again, and then at Embra and Sarasper. "And now?" he asked, gesturing at them, himself, and the procurer.
Craer shrugged. "Indraevyn must lie that way, if the war band we saw yonder was heading for it. The best thing we can do is get away from here-off that way-and fast, in case they come around the end of the lake and decide to just butcher us. From there, we can strike out thus, and hopefully circle around to come at the ruins from another way."
"All too good a way to get lost," Hawkril said slowly.
"Preferable to walking into an attack by armed folk expecting us?" Craer returned. "I think not."
"And if we miss the ruins entirely, and blunder around in this forest? It stretches for miles; 'endless,' they call it," Hawkril growled.
The procurer shrugged again. "If we go not overfar," he said in a low voice, "and keep quiet before dusk, the fires and sounds made by these others will at least tell us where they are-and some of them must be in or at the ruins by now. After we've gone a little way, we'll try to wake Embra. Now-when I signal by waving this sword, bring Embra and then Sarasper to me, as quietly as you can."
Craer took up the sword Hawkril had seized from his captive and moved off through the trees, heading away from the lake. When he and the armaragor could only just see each other through green gloom and tangled trunks, he made sweeping circles with the blade.
Hawkril obediently scooped up Embra, carried her to Craer, and returned for Sarasper. The bound captive still dangled unconscious, but the man's handful of coins had vanished from the rock where he'd dumped them out. The armaragor's mouth quirked onto a smile; Craer, no doubt.
The procurer had laid the sword on the ground pointing in the direction the war band they'd seen earlier had been heading, and was now at work trying to gently awaken Embra. Craer was whispering her name, touching the cold metal coins he'd acquired from the rock to her cheek, forehead, and the back of her hand, and stroking her wrists and chin gently but repeatedly. Frowning, Hawkril leaned near, watching-as, at last, the eyes of the sorceress flickered open. She was white to the lips, and looked dazed as she stared around, not seeming to recognize her companions.
"Can you walk?" Craer asked gently.
The Lady of Jewels frowned-a puzzled frown that suddenly deepened into irritation. "Of course I can walk, procurer," she snapped. "I'm weary, not addled or crippled!"
She brushed aside his hands, stood up-and promptly fell over.
"Is this some sort of high style practiced in the court of Silvertree?" Craer teased, as his swift arms caught the sorceress and kept her standing. "Some intricate courtesy above mere commoners?"
"Craer," Embra and Hawkril said in heartfelt unison, "closebelt thy tongue." Their eyes met in shared startlement at having inadvertently felt the same