The Nether Scroll - Lynn Abbey [127]
She lowered the sword and laughed at him.
*****
Each of the next two sunrises Druhallen unrolled the Nether scroll and read another line. His second and third readings were not as insightful as the first had been, but they expanded his horizons and gave him peace-the only peace he got those days. Tiep had awakened shortly after Dru had cast his Candlekeep spell. The youth had sucked in his gut and told Rozt'a the truth before breakfast.
She'd swallowed her rage-a terrible thing to watch-and shut him out of her life. Rozt'a didn't rant or vent her frustrations on helpless trees and bushes, she simply treated Tiep as if he weren't there. If he spoke, she didn't hear. If he got in front of her, she turned the other way. Dru had tried talking to her.
We said we'd always understand, that we'd always be there to help him. He didn't believe us. He was right.
Damn straight he was right. He's gone over, Dru. First Weathercote, now this. Or have I
got it backward? First the Zhentarim, then Weathercote. He's out of my life.
Not until the four of us are together. We can't decide without Galimer.
Tiep or me, Druhallen. If he goes into Weathercote Wood, I don't.
Dru had tried to reason with her; at least he'd thought he was using reason. The Nether scroll hadn't given him any new insights into women, especially Rozt'a. When he'd refused to judge Tiep immediately and send him on his way to Yarthrain at the junction of the old and new branches of the Dawn Pass Trail, she'd turned her back on them both. Add one delirious goblin and he had all the reagents necessary to conjure disaster, which was exactly what he foresaw once the green trees of Weathercote Wood lined their horizon.
Rozt'a was adamant, Tiep was forlorn, and Sheemzher was useless as their guide through the treacherous forest. Dru solved one problem when he removed the amber pendant from the goblin's neck. The red jewel sparkled when he warmed it between his palms.
"We're here," he whispered. "Sheemzher's hurt. If you want him and your scroll, you're going to have to show us the way."
The amber went cold but, in the distance, red light winked in the trees.
"We're on our way," he said, kneeing Fowler off the trail and hoping Rozt'a and Tiep would follow quietly.
Dru had no luck in getting his companions behind him and bad luck when Fowler balked before they'd gone a hundred yards. With the fevered, twitching goblin still draped over his shoulders, Druhallen dismounted and walked back to Rozt'a.
"Get down," he told her. "We have to talk."
Rozt'a dismounted cavalry-style, swinging her leg over Ebony's neck and sliding to the ground without ever breaking Dru's stare. She began the discussion with, "I don't trust him."
"All the more reason, then, to keep him with us… until we can talk it through and put it behind us."
"There's nothing to talk about. He's gone over."
"Tiep's no more Zhentarim than you or I-but he will be, if we don't pull him out of this now."
Rozt'a gave Dru a mighty scowl. "Is this more of your 'truth through illusion' nonsense? Helm's eyes, Dru-you were the one who started worrying three winters ago, right when Tiep made his little mistake. You were right; I was blind. Cut is cut, right? I want him gone from my life… now… before Galimer comes back."
"Because Galimer will agree with me? You're angry with yourself because you didn't see that he was in trouble. That's the reason you want him gone."
If Rozt'a had had her sword drawn then, Dru would have been skewered on the spot, but he knew a little about timing even if he didn't know why it worked.
After a painful silence Rozt'a said, "He's doing personal favors for Darkhold. The Dark Lord owns his soul."
Dru shook his head. "No more than he owned Ansoain." He hoped that was a true statement.
Rozt'a blinked and swore and listened to Dru describe the piece of parchment he'd seen in Amarandaris's quarters. "You might have told us."
"I didn't want to upset Galimer. Tiep didn't want to upset us. We're all human."
"It's different. Very different, and Tiep's in too deep. There's no pulling him