Windwalker - Elaine Cunningham [111]
Liriel took this in. "What do you see for me?"
"Let's have a look."
Zofia took a bag from her belt and spilled several small, rune-carved stones onto the table. "These were made from bones left by creatures no living eye has seen. The ancient power of the land is in them. Gather them up and strew them on the table."
Liriel did as she was bid. The old woman studied the result for long moments. At length she lifted her eyes to the waiting drow. "You will bind and break, heal and destroy. What you sought, you have found. What you love, you will lose-yet your heart will sing and not alone. You will make a place for those who walk between the starlight and the shadows."
The drow considered these cryptic words. "At least rain clouds eventually get to the point."
Zofia shrugged. "The wind will blow where it will. Keep the stones. Learn to listen to them, but do not seek to know your own future. That is courting ill fortune."
She rose to leave. Liriel stepped caught the witch's sleeve. "Do you know what I am?" she asked softly.
"Oh yes," Zofia said. "You are a black wolf."
The drow blew out a long breath that was part relief, part resignation. At least her deepest secret-or nearly so-was on the table.
"There are black wolves among every kind of creature," the witch went on, "who are different from their kin, outcasts either by choice or birth. Perhaps both. For whatever reason, they have no place among their kindred. They walk alone. I say black wolf because oftentimes a rogue wolf has a dark coat. Is such a beast shunned by its kind because of its hide, or does it hunt alone because of differences hidden beneath?"
This explanation struck Liriel as ambiguous as her "fortune." Did Zofia know that her guest was a dark elf or didn't she?
"I'll try not to keep the village awake with my howling," she grumbled.
The witch chuckled. "Sleep, then. Tomorrow you take the next step on your path."
She went her way. Liriel gathered up the bread and salt and stood in the open door. "This is for the domovoi" she said, feeling rather foolish. "You're welcome to come in." No further pleasantries came to mind, though she tried to think of some.
"Hang old shoes in the yard," called Zofia without looking back. "The domovoi like that."
"Kill me now," Liriel muttered. Resolving that the house spirit would have to make do with an evening snack, she put the gift under her stone and closed and latched her door. She fell facedown into the fur coverlet and was asleep almost at once.
Some time later, she became aware of a most peculiar feeling, a sensation so subtle that that it belonged neither to dreams or waking. Her feet were suddenly cooler, as if some highly skilled servant had managed to get her boots off without waking her.
Liriel cracked open one eye and instantly came fully awake.
A peculiar creature leaned over her. It looked human but for the silky fur covering its face and limbs. Most likely male, it appeared quite old and was clad only in a long-tailed red shirt. Long, gnarled fingers reached for the strings tying the witch mask to her belt.
Liriel exploded from the bed, her back to the wall and her daggers in her hand.
The creature stared at her in open-mouthed astonishment. "domovoi to the drow I have become?" it moaned. "A bad hut, this is! Better a dvorovoi it should have!"
Only then did Liriel notice the mask in the house spirit's hand and realized that she wore her true face. A glance at her black hands confirmed this.
Thinking fast, she responded firmly, "No Dvorovoi. I mean no harm to Rashemen and want nothing to do with bad spirits."
This apparently was the right approach. The furry being nodded approvingly. "Better in the yard they should stay. You can cook?"
"Not if my life depended on it."
The domovoi brightened. "Then no dishes I must wash, no pots scour! But there will be milk?"
"If you want it, I'll have someone deliver it."
"Rothe's milk, or goat?"
Liriel shrugged. "Whatever you want."
"Eggs?" the spirit inquired hopefully.
The drow extended