The Lost Library of Cormanthy - Mel Odom [53]
The current ranger at the line drew back and let fly with a camp axe. The axe flipped end over end, then smacked into the target with a loud, meaty thunk. The handle quivered for a moment from the force.
A ragged cheer went up from a handful of the watchers, while others groaned. It had come closest to the small target.
Approaching one of the cheerers, thinking the man might be more inclined to answer favorably while winning, Cordyan said, "I'm looking for Baylee Arnvold."
"When you find him," the man said, "tell him Rasnip says 'well met,' and he owes me a drink." He turned back to the competition, clapping as the next contestant stepped to the line.
Cordyan looked up at the trees and curbed her anger. A host of birds and climbing things stared back at her from the branches, their eyes amber, orange, and red from the lantern light. Senior Civilar Closl should have known this would be a fruitless mission. However, after hearing how Golsway's body had been found, she supposed there was no choice. Baylee Arnvold was the only lead the Watch had. She sighed. "What does it take to step to the line and compete?" she asked.
Rasnip looked at her and cocked an eyebrow. "You've evidently got a
willing heart. Have you a keen eye and a strong arm to go with it?"
"There's only one way to find out."
The newest contestant made the throw with the axe, further away from the center than the last contestant had been. More cheering and groaning followed.
"Then it will cost you a silver piece," the ranger said.
Cordyan reached into her belt pouch and took out a silver coin. She flipped it at the ranger, who snatched it from the air with practiced ease.
Rasnip moved forward. "Hold up. We have a new contestant." He looked at Cordyan. "What is your name?"
"Cordyan," she answered, moving to the line.
"Cordyan of where?"
"Waterdeep."
"And you are a ranger?" Rasnip asked.
"No." Cordyan knew the group at the forgathering had already guessed that. However, they didn't know her true nature. "I'll have to borrow an axe."
Several rangers laughed at the request. "She doesn't have her own axe?"
"Going to throw with someone else's?"
"I'm willing to make a wager on this," a man cried. "Does anyone want to try to take my money?"
A young man with a feathered cap stepped from the crowd and handed Cordyan a weathered hatchet. "It might not look like much because I've put it to ill use over the years, but it's a trusty weapon."
Cordyan took the hatchet. She ran her fingers along the smooth handle. It didn't have a practiced finish, rather it was probably accomplished by rubbing a rough stone against it till the present finish was achieved. The head had a few nicks that a whetstone hadn't been able to remove.
Some of the rangers guffawed at the condition of the borrowed piece of equipment, believing it to place Cordyan in even more dire straits. The young ranger blushed, evidently embarrassed by his own offering.
"That hatchet didn't do young Turloc any favors," someone said. "He's already had his attempt at the prize."
Cordyan took her stand at the throwing line and concentrated on the target, marking it in her mind. "And what is the prize?"
"What is the purse so far?" Rasnip asked.
"There have been eighty-two misses so far," a woman called out "It's the ill lighting and the wine."
"That means there's eighty-two silvers to be won," Rasnip answered.
Cordyan let out a breath and shrugged, using the movement to disguise the act of removing two of the leaf-bladed throwing darts from her tunic. Around her, the rangers fell silent. With a smoothness born of long practice, she threw the hatchet.
The weapon flipped exactly three times. True to the young ranger's word, the hatchet was expertly weighted for throwing. On the final revolution, the axe blade came around hard and bisected the silver coin. Partially held by whatever was used to hold the coin in place, the halves dropped to either side.
In an eye blink, Cordyan threw the darts.