The Kingless Land - Ed Greenwood [67]
"I," Sarasper said grandly, sketching a formal bow, "have every confidence in your abilities, my good fellow."
"Afraid of that," was the growled reply.
"Just don't begin by overturning the table," Embra murmured. As the armaragor rose, looking somewhat like a small mountain deciding to relocate, he gave her what was known in refined Aglirtan circles as "a pointed look."
The Lady of Jewels smiled up at him and stuck out her tongue.
The healer's words were put to the test as the night drew on and the Four disposed of the Silvertree spy, changed taverns once or thrice, dealt with some would-be thieves, and found themselves, as approaching dawn made the eastern sky a little less dark, on the docks facing more than a dozen swaggering-drunk Adelnan soldiers.
"What d'you bet your spying friend put them up to this?" Craer whispered to Embra, as snarling warriors reeled toward them, blades and torn-off table legs in their hands.
Just in front of his friends, Hawkril growled like a bear and reluctantly backed away, step by step, awaiting the inevitable rush.
"Just keep me awake and unhurt," Embra hissed back, "or our disguises may fade." And she snatched the last old wine bottle from Hawkril's sack, did something intricate and very swift with her fingers, and narrowed her eyes.
A moment later, the Adelnans were joining in an enthusiastic chorus of startled shouts as their leather breeches blazed up in even more enthusiastic unison. The smell of burning hair and the thunder of frantically dancing boots both grew strong before first one warrior, and then another, sought the obvious relief, plunging into the icy harbor waters with roars of pain.
"That spy is sure to have been watching," Sarasper said, as the four trotted away down the street in the general direction of "away." "We dare not tarry here longer."
"I want to buy some food before we head out into the countryside," Hawkril said quickly.
"And some wine!" Craer added.
Embra shook her head. "You heard all the talk of war, this night!"
Indeed, the taverns had been full of little else, afire with the news that all the baronies were arming. War was in the air-but where, and with whom?
"I don't want to have to fight off an encamped army-or have my hands chopped off, tongue torn out, and eyes seared to ashes as an enemy mage somewhere," Embra added sourly. "It might be safest to be outside Aglirta for a while."
"What? One or more of the Dwaerindim are here-they felt very close to me, in Silvertree House!" Sarasper protested. "You owe me, all of you! I must find the Stones, not flee from them!"
"Let us at least go to Sirlptar," Craer said, poking his head up between them. "No baron to induce us to join his little army, out of the fray but not out of reach of all Aglirta-and if Embra's kindly, thoughtful father's sent agents, even mages, on our trail, they'll never find us there."
The Priest of the Serpent smiled grimly at her gasp-and so did the snake that had bitten her. The glow from her breast lit them from below with eerie fire as the woman swayed. Fire that numbed and yet burned was surging through her, as many cowled figures shuffled into view behind the priest.
"Sssuch venom slays all who serve not the Ssserpent," he said. "Rise sssister, and join our swelling ranks, in the most sacred service in all Darsar."
She knew what to do and was already bending forward to kiss the scaly head of the serpent.
The priest's smile broadened. "Word is ssspreading," he gloated, and the snake answered with a contented hiss.
8
More Mischances All Around
"We'll never find it," Nynter of the Nine Daggers groaned despairingly, waving out the archway at the overgrown stone mounds all around. The night now hid them from view, but everyone knew they were there. Knew all too well, after a back-rending day spent stooped over tugging and cutting away vines and thorn-bushes. "We could still be sitting here when the winter snows come, scratching our way into empty house after empty smithy after empty pigsty, and