Windwalker - Elaine Cunningham [40]
The magic held! crowed the former yochlol. It held! Gromph's little bastard wizard-bitch actually did it!
Shakti's keen eyes made out the details of a familiar face, one she had never expected to see again. "How is this possible?" she whispered.
Wild joy shone in the tiny crimson eyes. No questions, traitor-priestess! The Handmaiden bade you to take Lolth's priestess back to Menzoberranzan. Why do you wait?
A shimmering oval of magic appeared before Shakti, quivering with power and impatience. Filled with foreboding, Shakti stepped into the portal.
The whirl of magical travel engulfed her. Shakti savored it as the most peaceful moment she was likely to know for a very long time. Although she was not sure what had just happened, of one thing she was very certain.
This was likely to be a most unusual homecoming.
The waves sparkled with the early morning sun, and tiny, blinding rainbows of light danced toward the merciless horizon. Liriel bore it as long as she could before retreating below decks to the cabin she and Fyodor shared.
The small chamber felt stuffy and hot without the sea breeze to cool it. For a moment Liriel was tempted to create a porthole to let the air in and cloak it with magical darkness to keep the light out. Practicality overruled comfort. Unseen enemies sought her, and hoarding her spells ensured she could offer the next foe an appropriate magical greeting.
Fyodor settled down on the cot and closed his eyes. His shipboard duties included late watch, and he always slept while Liriel studied her spells. By unspoken agreement, one of them stayed awake and alert at all times.
"Why do you trust this nobleman?" Fyodor asked suddenly.
The drow looked up from her spell book. "He can help us get to Qiluй."
"Perhaps he can. You seem very certain that he will."
"He did once before," Liriel reminded her friend.
"Yes." Fyodor opened one eye and sent her an equally lopsided smile. "Through the sewers of Waterdeep."
Her expression darkened at the memory. "There's probably another way in, a better way. Chances are, he didn't trust us enough to reveal it."
The Hashemi propped himself up on one elbow. "The path of your thoughts runs alongside mine, little raven. I have often wondered why Lord Thann offered aid to strangers. He had little reason to trust us."
"Especially considering that one of us is a drow," Liriel said, giving voice to his unspoken words.
As she spoke, the air in the cabin shifted and stirred, and a faint shimmering of light began to coalesce into human form. Liriel had her daggers out-then sheathed again-before her friend noted the magical intrusion.
A tall, fair-haired man appeared in the chamber, a young man probably within a year of so of Fyodor's twenty summers. He held out his long-fingered hands and flipped them palms-up in a gesture of peace.
"To the contrary, I think rather highly of drow," Danilo Thann announced in his lazy drawl. "Say what you will about the dark elves, they're seldom boring."
Liriel's eyes narrowed. She drew her dagger and leaped at the invader in one cat-quick movement. Seizing a handful of fair hair, she yanked the much-taller wizard down to eye level and pressed the point of her blade to his throat.
"They're seldom stupid, either," she snarled. "Who are you, and what have you done with Danilo of House Thann?"
For a long moment the wizard stared at her. "Just for future reference-assuming of course I have a future-how did you know?"
"Your hands," Liriel said curtly. "The man whose form you're wearing played a stringed instrument. There would be calluses on the tips of his fingers."
The wizard sighed. "The demons hide in the details, don't they?"
They might as well have been discussing a bottle of wine, for all the concern the pretender displayed. Liriel was not certain whether to be impressed or irritated. She turned to Fyodor, who stood with sword ready.
"I'm going to strip away the cloaking