Windwalker - Elaine Cunningham [126]
They road in silence for over an hour before Sharlarra made another attempt at conversation. "So tell me, Anya, are there many elves in this village Dernovia?"
The witch sent her an incredulous look. "Few outlanders are allowed this far into Rashemen. You are permitted only because Zofia Othlor says you may come."
"I hope I'll have a chance to thank her."
"That is unlikely. You have asked to see the witch of Shad-owdale. You will see her, and you will go."
Friendly sort, mused Sharlarra. "There's been some talk of drow sightings hereabouts. Tavern talk," she said, in response to Anya's narrow-eyed glare. "Have you seen any drow around?"
"Perhaps."
The cold answer found the edge of Sharlarra's patience. They didn't speak again until the village walls came into sight.
"That is the outlander's hut," the witch said, pointing to a small hillock. "The woman who calls herself Liriel is there."
Sharlarra sent her a curious look. "How do you know that?"
"There is a tripod of sticks on the roof. The Domovoi-the house spirits-like such things. They only put them on the roof when people are within and take then off when they leave. If they are upset about the people leaving, they throw the sticks at them." There was a slight warning tone in Anya's voice.
"So visitors tend to leave in a hurry," the elf said.
"That would be wise."
Sharlarra swung off the horse and tapped on the door. A tall, silver-haired woman answered the door. Her eyes widened in recognition and astonishment. Sharlarra had her own moment of recognition. This, in living form, was the ghostly woman she had seen with Moonstone.
Which meant that the ghost she'd seen had truly been Sylune, witch of Shadowdale.
"Oh gods," Sharlarra moaned.
The woman seized the elf and dragged her into the hut. She slammed the door and pulled a black mask off her belt. Before Sharlarra could blink, the "woman" had changed form into a small, slender drow.
"What are you doing here?" Liriel demanded.
"To be perfectly honest, I came looking for trouble." The elf grinned. "Looks like I found it. Impersonating Sylune! You've got more brass than a cheap dagger. Tell me all that happened since you left the ship."
Liriel took out a bottle of wine. They shared it as they pieced together their stories. News of Xzorsh's death brought a sharp pang to Liriel. He was the first elf she had met, the first who taught her that not all faerie elves were to be feared, that some could perhaps be friends. This odd female, in Liriel's opinion, was another such oddity.
They talked until nightfall. Finally Sharlarra rose. "I'll be off. The stiff-necked witch who brought me here made it very clear that I was to leave as soon as we spoke."
The drow felt a pang of regret. "I would like to talk again sometime."
Sharlarra winked. "That's not likely to be a problem. I said I'd leave the village, not the area. Moonstone and I will camp out in the forest for a few days. I'll see you again, little doubt of that!"
"Moonstone?"
"My horse. Come see."
Liriel followed her to the hillock's courtyard and started in surprise at the sight of a ghostly horse. This set the elf off into gales of laughter. She swung into the saddle and urged the strange mount down the forest path.
The drow glanced up at the moon and wondered if she might be able to find Sharlarra's song in the moonmagic of Eilistraee. She thought briefly of the lurking spiders, but the lingering echoes of the freed elves' joy pushed aside such grim considerations. Liriel had made her choice: surely even the persistent Lolth must know that by now. So she went back into the cottage and sat at the table, leaving the door open to let it the moonlight.
She closed her eyes and listening for the song. After a time she found