The Kingless Land - Ed Greenwood [94]
"I've just heard something more," another of the bards said then, in a deep, mellifluous voice. "Ghonkul at the House of Tomes over on Claremmon Street is a friend of mine. He tells me only three of their books even mention Indraevyn, only one of those was ever rented-and that, somehow, all three tomes have been stolen during these last two days!"
Craer tugged at Sarasper's arm, and they ducked around the group and went into the yard.
Several other listeners, moving at more idle paces, followed.
"Food?" Hawkril grunted, as he set the bar against the wall and held the door wide.
"Of course," Craer said excitedly, as he and Sarasper bustled into the room. "Warriors think of nothing else."
"That's because someone has to think of the practical," the burly armaragor growled, "while all of you oh-so-clever sorts are thinking all manner of useless witticisms and pranks and suchlike. I'm not blind, Craer-you're bursting with more of it right now."
"With news, Hawk," the procurer corrected, almost happily. "Listen: there's a mage from Elmerna down at the gates, telling everyone who stops-and three bards at least have-that the wizard Yezund declared that Candalath, the Stone of Life, is in the ruined city of Indraevyn! Yezund was murdered for saying so! Ther-"
Hawkril firmly closed and barred the door again, and so the three conscious members of the Four never saw the door across the landing abruptly swing open. Had they been standing watching, they'd have seen a pleasant-looking man in trail-leathers, who sported a short, neat beard, stride out onto the landing while a pair of very odd objects descended to the floor inside his room.
Those objects were floating, obviously magical silvery spheres, their surfaces shimmering rainbows of iridescence wherever they reflected back the dim stair lanterns. They were fading in both size and brightness as they sank floorward, but scenes sparkling in their depths were still clearly visible. One held a view of the inside of the Band of Four's room (complete with faint echoes of Craer's taletelling), and the innards of the other showed the bottom of the flight of stairs their owner was now standing at the head of. In the darkening scene in the sphere, several fighting-men were mounting the lowest steps, blades half drawn and held ready. The bearded man descended to the topmost step and stopped with his hands on both stair rails, blocking the way.
Moments later, he heard the expected thud of boots whose owners had opted for haste over stealth, and the stair was suddenly boiling with warriors.
The foremost saw the man in leathers, squinted menacingly up the stairs, and brandished two long and gleaming feet of sharp steel before snarling, "Get out of the way!"
The figure at the head of the stairs gave him a wintry smile and replied calmly, "No, I think not. Your better course would be to turn around and depart this house-for good."
The squinting man looked both astonished and delighted, and there were wolfish smiles on other faces down the stairs, too, as blades in plenty promptly sang out of scabbards. There was some shuffling among the leading warriors, so that three could stand abreast on the stairs and menace this lone, unarmed man who barred their way.
The man gave them a patient smile. Eyes narrowed as some of the warriors wondered if they faced a wizard-or a half-wit-but they extended their swords in glittering array and advanced a step up the stair… and then another. Swords drew back a little for the thrusts that would come with their next step, and some warriors in the second rank extended their blades over the shoulders of the foremost warriors, all of them bent on carving up the lone man who opposed them.
That lone man bent over to meet their advance, smiled broadly, and spat something into their midst-something that burst into a cloud of spreading greenish vapor. There were startled shouts, and then coughing, and steel rang against the steps and railings as warriors scrambled to move-and then reeled, or stumbled, and fell