Triumph of the Darksword - Margaret Weis [37]
“A simple no would have sufficed,” the arrow commented, sniffing. With one last wriggle, it wormed its way out of the quiver and in a blur of green and orange, Simkin—large as life—stood stiffly before Mosiah, arms at his sides, feet pressed together. “I’m stiff as the late Empress and I’ve lost all feeling in my toes,” he complained gloomily. “I say, do you like my ensemble? I call it Lincoln Green. There was this jolly group of bandits whose leader took to frolicking about the woods in silk hose and pointy hats with feathers. He was caught doing funny things to the deer. Complaints were made to the local sheriff and as a result—”
“What are you doing here?” Mosiah grumbled, looking about in the fog, trying to see or hear something. He thought he could detect confused sounds coming from his left, but he wasn’t certain, “You know Garald said he didn’t want to see so much as the hem of that orange silk scarf of yours on the battlefield.”
“Garald is a dear boy and I love him to distraction,” remarked Simkin, stretching luxuriously, “but you must admit that there are times when he’s a pompous ass—”
“Shhh!” whispered Mosiah, scandalized. “Keep your voice down!”
“I hate to tell you this, old bean,” said Simkin cheerfully, “but we’re undoubtedly miles from the Field right now. Don’t look so glum. Whole thing’s a complete bore anyway. Bunch of aging warlocks, casting spells at each other, when they can remember the words that is. Catalysts snoozing in the sun. Oh, sometimes you get a young hothead who livens things up a bit by tossing a centaur or two into the fray. Rather a fun thing to see the old fellows hiking up their robes and beating a swift retreat into the shrubbery. But I assure you, it’s dreadfully dull. No one’s getting killed or anything.”
“Well, no one’s supposed to!” Mosiah muttered, wondering uneasily if Simkin was right and he had wandered off the Field.
“I know. But I was rather hoping a centaur would get loose or a giant run amuck. But, no such luck. I found myself growing quite bored. To make matters worse, I was sharing the carriage of the Baron Von Licktenstein, who generally provides the most marvelous cold luncheons. He had a large hamper of food with him from which the most delectable smells were rising. But it was still an hour or so until noon, the Baron was a crashing bore, insisting on describing all the plays to me. I told him I was growing faint with hunger, but he missed my delicate hints that a snack would help me revive my flagging spirits. I finally decided to find you, dear boy. Had something important I wanted to tell you anyway.”
“Not nearly noon. What time is it now?” Mosiah asked, wishing Simkin hadn’t mentioned food.
“About one-ish or two-ish, I should say. By the way, deucedly clever of me, sneaking in amongst your arrows like that, wouldn’t you agree—”
Mosiah interrupted again. “What do you mean, you have something important to tell me?”
Simkin raised an eyebrow. “Yes, indeed,” he said with that strange, half-mocking yet wholly serious smile that never failed to send shivers through Mosiah. “I ran into an old acquaintance of yours in Merilon.”
“Mine?” Mosiah glared at Simkin suspiciously. “Who?”
“Your friend, the witch. Head of the Duuk-tsarith.”
“My god!” Mosiah paled, shuddering.
“Almin’s beard, dear boy!” Simkin said, watching him in amusement. “Don’t carry on so. You look quite guilty and you haven’t done anything—that I know of, at least.”
“You don’t know what it was like!” Mosiah swallowed. “I dream sometimes that I still see her face, leering down at me …” Mosiah stared at Simkin, suddenly realizing what he’d said. “What were you doing in Merilon last night?”
“I’ve been there the past week,” said Simkin with a yawn. Glancing with distaste at the stump on which Mosiah was sitting, he conjured up a couch with a wave of his hand and lay down on it, hands behind his head. “The parties there have been quite marvelous.”
“But Merilon is the enemy!”
“My dear boy, I have no enemies,” Simkin remarked. “But you’ve completely unlinked my chain of thought. It was important,