Windwalker - Elaine Cunningham [28]
For a long moment Caladorn stared toward the faint, silvery border between sea and sky, his face carefully neutral-at least, neutral by human standards. Liriel watched with fascination as emotions chased each other across the man's face. Finally he turned back to them and gave her a curt bow. "Very well. I will do as you ask."
Liriel and Fyodor watched him stride away. The raven cleared its throat. "Your response, Princess?"
The drow's gaze snapped back to the avian messenger. "Tell Qiluй what was said here, and assure her that we will come to her with all possible speed."
Black wings rustled as the raven lifted off into the night. Perceiving that the show was over, the sailors drifted off to their duties or their rest.
Fyodor waited until they were alone before speaking his mind. "It seems to me that Lord Caladorn will do as you ask, and more beside."
The drow lifted one eyebrow. "You noticed that, did you? If he can send word to this man before we reach the harbor, he can alert others, as well. Well, let him. We could use a bit of excitement."
At that moment a scream, furious and female, rose from the rear of the ship. Liriel watched with amusement as Ibn grappled with the revived genasi, shouting colorful warnings at his men to stand aside as he carried the struggling, cursing creature over to the side of the ship. Closer at hand, two sailors stumbled by, dragging a bullywug carcass by the feet. Fyodor helped them heave the dead monster over the rail.
That accomplished, he sent a wry smile toward the drow. "I am most interested to know, little raven, what you would consider excitement."
Liriel drew near and told him, in a sultry whisper and with considerable detail. When she paused for breath, Fyodor shook his head in half-feigned astonishment.
"The midnight watch begins in four hours. Is there time for all that?"
She sent him a sidelong glance and strode toward the hold. "I don't know," she said casually. "So far, no one has survived the first hour."
The Rashemi chuckled, but his laughter faded after a moment passed and Liriel did not join in. "You were jesting, were you not?" he called after her.
No answer came from below decks. After a moment, Fyodor shrugged and started down the ladder. The night was young, the moon was bright, and there were many worse ways to die.
CHAPTER THREE
deep waters
In the waters far below Leaping Narwhal, Xzorsh swam eastward, intent upon ensuring that the drow's journey continued on a relatively sedate course. All around him, however, was evidence that his chosen task would not be an easy one.
Bullywug carcasses drifted lazily downward, and blood spiraled out into the dark water. The sharks would soon gather, harbingers of slower but even more fearsome scavengers.
Human sailors knew the surface of the sea and understood something of her moods and caprices. The depths were a mystery to them, a vast and unfathomable place described in song and story as the "silent halls of Umber-lee." The sea Xzorsh knew was far from silent. Bubbles murmured and popped on their path toward the stars. The subtle swish of current-tossed sea grass gave a precise report of tides, currents, depths. Fish clicked and squealed as they schooled through the dark waters. A low chorus of grumbling croaks, fading in the distance, marked the bullywugs' retreat. Whale-song from a distant pod rose and fell in a haunting, plaintive melody. Last, a discreet clicking pattern, almost inaudible above the complex murmur of the sea, warned Xzorsh of the ambush ahead.
He loosened the weapons on his belt: a fine knife, fire-forged by land-dwelling elves, and one of his precious throwing crabs. Seizing the element of surprise in his own webbed hands, he pulled his spear and dived toward a thick stand of sea grass.
Several sea elves erupted from their hiding place, scattering and then regrouping to surround Xzorsh. One of them, a large female